Iris's Guardian (White Tigers of Brigantia Book 2)

by Lisa Daniels

  Such reckless mother’s arms.

  Kalgrin helped Anya into the inn, buying her some extra clothes, making sure she had things to start her life running. He couldn’t get her into his line of work just yet, so she worked under Seon’s tutelage, learning to clean with aplomb. Seon herself had an interesting energy about her, a calming influence, and a secret that twinkled behind her eyes. Once, Anya had caught Seon whispering, though she didn’t know what Seon whispered to.

  Other times, Seon seemed to spot something in the shadows and jump, before settling back. An overactive imagination. Perhaps from trauma? Not that trauma happened to be anything unusual. People saw things all the time in the plantations. People spoke of ghosts and the dead watching over them.

  Slowly but surely, Anya adapted to her new life. Days passed into weeks. She lived in the inn for the first few weeks until accumulating enough pay to move into a small hovel of her own, one street away from Kalgrin’s modest abode. It’d been the closest she could find to Kalgrin. A part of her didn’t want him gone. She yearned sometimes to just knock on his door and stumble through, letting him cook his terrible tomato soup or help her with that bath.

  Eventually, Kalgrin confirmed he’d secured the position for her, and she’d be speaking to them and dealing with them in the inn itself. No need to move from Tarn at all, except to go on trips for the more troubled humans.

  Trips with Kalgrin. Bringing him back into her life again.

  “It won’t be easy work,” Kalgrin said, fondly patting her on the shoulder when he had given her the news in the inn. They sat next to each other. She’d gone for her break to talk to him. “Most people are far more broken than you. They’ve long since forgotten what hope feels like. What love feels like.”

  Anya focused on Kalgrin’s hand which still lay on the table. Such a strong, smooth thing. A hand that could break boulders, but didn’t display a single blemish. It seemed to creep towards hers. Or did she creep to him, wanting to touch it? Wanting to remind herself of his warmth?

  He just had to be so handsome, didn’t he? All these dumb things she did – grabbing a house near him, almost shouting in triumph when his offer meant she stayed put or worked with him closely. Always thinking about knocking on his door and seeing if he was in.

  Gods. Pretty looks couldn’t do that to a person. Couldn’t make her heart so painful. Smiles, maybe. Kindness, certainly. That twinkle in his eyes, definitely.

  And that hand, moving across the table. Taking a deep breath, she casually let her fingers skim the top of his knuckles. Electricity crackled.

  She hesitated. “It’s not like we’re given opportunities to understand what real love feels like. It’s like being in a dark tunnel all the time. Except there’s no light. Just blackness.”

  Kalgrin’s gray eyes followed the movement of her fingers. Anya’s hair hung in little rivulets from her head, coiling from Seon’s attempt at doing her hair up earlier. Imagine if she was bolder. Just letting her fingers trail up his arm, up to his cheek, cupping it, leaning forward to kiss…

  No!

  She blinked to get rid of the thought and blushed slightly. No. She just liked him because he was nice. Because he looked nice. Because he hit all the right buttons in her and made her think the sun shone out of his soul–

  Because he… yeah. She needed to stop doing this. Waxing poetic about a dragon. A strong, mighty dragon with red wings that covered the sky…

  “It almost sounds like you want someone to show you,” Kalgrin said softly. Letting her fingers stay on him. He didn’t pull away. He also didn’t seem like he was breathing.

  “Maybe I do,” Anya said. “Or maybe I hope to show it to other people. Like the wretches you speak of. The ones who are broken.”

  Kalgrin inhaled deeply at last. His gray eyes had seemed dazed for a moment. “Yes. Well.” Now he let out a grin. “If you want to be shown, I might know a guy around here who can help.”

  Anya had watched him as he retreated back out the inn. Too long. Every step caught her eye. Even the way his rear packed itself in with his pace, that confident and fluid glide across the cobbles.

  And she’d be working with him more. Her lips curved upwards.

  Seemed like neither of them wanted each other to be gone.

  When she closed her eyes in her new home, three times as big as her little mud hut, she dreamed of pleasant things. She dreamed of a better future, and didn’t feel shame for it.

  There was no shame in wanting a better life.

  Chapter Six

  Her job of helping rescued humans proved as hard as expected. The people she got saddled with at the inn were damaged goods. The younger ones maybe possessed more hope, but older ones simply had set views, unable to understand that life could be different. They didn’t get that they no longer needed to worry about keeping their voices down, or expect punishment for every minor transgression. They flinched like awful, shattered animals who had been kicked one too many times.

  Honestly, it became exhausting. But at the same time, seeing the first spark of hope, no matter how rarely it came, made the whole process worthwhile.

  Travelling the lands on Kalgrin’s back was pretty fun, too.

  The first time she did it, she marvelled at the world from atop. Not being encased in his claws made her beam and want to throw up her arms in excitement, except if she did, she’d probably fall off and break everything in the fall.

  “Must be different for you now, eh? Instead of staring at everything through my claws.”

  “It helps I’m not covered in shit, either,” Anya said, grinning. Her hands curled around Kalgrin’s spikes. She rode at the bottom of his neck, finding it the best place to not accidentally fall off. He’d let her try a few positions before settling on this one. “How must you feel, Kalgrin? Seeing the world like this? What I wouldn’t give to fly like you.”

  Kalgrin let out a rumbling laugh. “You get used to it after a while. But you know, if you want to fly so much, you can just ask me. I might be able to find some spare time here and there to take you into the skies. Visit some nice places. The wyrms can’t touch us there, after all.” He then let out a theatrical sigh. “Apparently the drakes of old used to be able to breathe fire. If we still had that ability, I’m sure the wyrms wouldn’t have such a strong foothold on everything now. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time where I nearly lost my life trying to protect people on a supply run?”

  “Did you now?” Anya deliberately enthused her voice with as much interest as possible. She caught about every second word he said with the winds whipping past them.

  “Yes. I’ll have you know I was very heroic.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Anya said, now smiling, though obviously he couldn’t see it. Her mother had warned her about this. Boasting. Men liked to boast of their achievements, to impress women. Because they didn’t know any other ways to impress.

  It probably wasn’t anything like that, but the description did give Anya some amusement.

  “There were about fifty humans on the food wagons, escorting them to one of the barren northern towns. It’s hard to grow crops up there, so they rely on the nearby farming villages, the ones run by drakes for sustenance. We were almost there, before two hundred wyrms set upon us from the hills.”

  “Two hundred?”

  “Yes. Two hundred. And there were just twenty drakes, expected to protect the humans from those bastards. Twenty! Can you imagine the odds?”

  Anya let out a complimentary mm hmm, and Kalgrin continued talking about his heroic efforts to save the food caravans. How they helped pick up the humans from almost three hundred wyrms – the number kept increasing for some reason – and protected most of the caravan from being destroyed thanks to the sheer ferocity of how Kalgrin fought.

  When he’d finished his astonishing tale of ardor, Anya waited a moment. He held his head up high, wanting her to see how heroic he was.

  And then she asked, “So what really happened?”


  At first, Kalgrin blustered. Then, with a little more teasing, he admitting it was just twenty wyrm guards, and they’d already been forewarned of the attack. They did have ballistas like he mentioned, but none came close to hitting the drakes.

  “It just sounds boring if I describe it as a routine rout, you know.”

  “I’m sure,” Anya said. “How many times have you told that story to others?”

  “Probably a few dozen times,” he said, sounding rather sheepish. “But it was scary. We don’t usually get attacks so far north.”

  Anya shook her head, smiling because he’d so clearly been trying to make her admire him. Not that he needed to do that, because she admired him already.

  “Kalgrin. I’m sure you’ve done some spectacular, amazing things in your life. Things I could only dream of.” That soured her a bit, because the words stung of truth. She’d never done anything past the plantations except dream. Other places felt like clouds hanging over her head. Unseen, unknown, except for that city they once visited. Wherever it was. She cleared her throat, banishing the mood. “And I’d love to hear about all your exploits. I could do with some more color in my life.” She discreetly checked over his red scales. Yes, this definitely added extra color in her life.

  She grinned, rubbing his scales, knowing his tough hide wouldn’t feel it. What a wondrous creature Kalgrin was. Soaring through the skies like this. Covering grounds that might take humans days in a matter of hours. Seeing the entire world from above, nothing stopping his flight.

  “Oh, well, I guess I can tell you about that time where I nearly got cursed by a strange old witch in the forest.”

  “There are no witches. There is no magic.”

  “Isn’t there? Oh, you’ll be surprised at what kind of things we have in this world,” Kalgrin said, the smile in his voice. “And you know, there used to be magic. Lots of it. Practically as common as breathing.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Well, how do you think we can turn from humans into dragons and keep our clothes, thereby disobeying logical laws of conversion? It’s because we’re magical. We don’t have any other powers, obviously. Except the fire breathing thing some centuries back…”

  He continued talking about the magic, and Anya simply shook her head, enjoying the sound of his voice and the wind in her hair.

  Their first proper flight ended with her meeting a small, frightened group of slaves who had been released from a slave cage. They were on their way to being sold to a distant mining company, until Kalgrin’s group intercepted them. They were too nervous to talk to the drakes, though, which left Anya negotiating with them. Trying to push through that sullen despair to let them know life would change for the better.

  That they deserved it.

  After that, she returned home, not exactly triumphant, but better off than before. Knowing her arguments did punch through to these people. Because she shared their experiences. And she held within her a burning passion. Sometimes, she saw Kalgrin interact with that Leoch person, though she didn’t like him. Not at all. Just some brash drake who helped humans, but at the same time liked to remind them that he didn’t have to, but he assisted them anyway.

  It rubbed her the wrong way, somehow. Kalgrin seemed to like him, however. And she liked Kalgrin. So she kept her mouth shut.

  The biggest boost to her independence came from living in her small house. She stocked it up with supplies, making it something that felt like a home. And she had one person to thank for all this. Kalgrin.

  That smug, boastful, garrulous drake had done everything possible to give her a better life. Rescuing her and the rest of the family. Securing her a job helping others. Securing her independent living in a little house with objects of her own that she had bought. Because money jangled in her pouch. Money she never formerly held.

  Coins did have that lovely musical clink when a lot of them were squashed together in a bag.

  Her heart also liked to do that stupid lurching thing when she looked over his way. When he transformed from his drake form to that astonishing human with those storm-gray eyes. When he smiled. When he laughed at something she said. When they both made up an excuse to hug one another on meeting and departing.

  Everything she kept expecting him to do, he didn’t. When she thought Kalgrin would just absorb her into his life without any chance for protest from her, it didn’t happen. When she thought she might be forced to stay on with him, she got the option to work and live in her own place instead.

  She did see wyrms visit Tarn every now and then. Thankfully, they ignored the humans who lived here and didn’t try anything funny with them, respecting the drakes enough not to encroach on their space.

  She suspected things wouldn’t be like that forever. Not when you had someone as cruel and destructive as the wyrms. Those bastards never stayed away for long. They broke people, crushing them so often and so hatefully, that emotions stopped existing. They became something you longed for. Crying and pain was better than the feeling of being dead.

  Then there was Kalgrin. Her vague ideas of independence virtually disappeared around him. She liked the idea of striking out on her own, of being here without someone’s foot in her face as she tried to sleep. She also liked the idea of being close to Kalgrin, to the point where she practically stalked the poor guy. She found herself anticipating his visits. Talking to him about anything. What the drakes were doing, how her family was doing, if he’d like to help deliver a letter to them or let her ride him to visit.

  She made excuses to go over to his house for his cooking, just so she could see him smile and laugh in her presence, and admire her openly with his deep gray eyes, which brimmed with wisdom. She liked the way his light brown hair tumbled carelessly about his face, like a living mop. She even liked sometimes the awkward pauses between them in conversation as he stared, before trying to fill the empty space with words, to make her at ease, or to ask how her job was going.

  It’s going fine. More than fine. It’s going like a dream. And I can’t shake him out of my head.

  On one of her days off, Anya visited Seon at the inn, enjoying the friendship they’d developed. Drakes and humans filled up the place. Some of them turned keen eyes upon her.

  “You know,” Seon pointed out, as one gray-eyed drake kept glancing over to Anya’s table, nursing his tankard, “you’re really taking your time on your love life.”

  Naturally, Anya decided to turn crimson and splutter a bit. “I’m not delaying anything! I’m just happy being by myself. Doing things. By myself.”

  “Uh huh. Is that why you specifically chose a house one street away from Kalgrin’s place, despite having better, cheaper offers? You had the pick of the town with your wages, and you choose one of those run-down, thatch-roof buildings that no respectable person would be seen in.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anya said, the blush now transitioning to her voice. How did a voice even do that? She might as well be wearing her heart like a badge.

  “I think you do. And you keep getting excited whenever you end up working directly with him. You keep wearing that stupid lovesick grin on your face. And you make these moony eyes that clearly tell me you’d like him to mean something more to you.”

  Drat. Seon didn’t miss a beat, did she? Nosing around in Anya’s feelings like they weren’t hidden at all. Her brain really tried to jump around the subject. She liked him. She even dreamed about him and thought admiring thoughts. She lived near him, and yet, somehow, her brain malfunctioned. It didn’t step any further ahead and link all of the incidences together into one tangible fact.

  She wanted him. Not just as a friend, but someone to keep in her life. Someone to share her bed with. She’d never even had sex before, but she knew she wanted it with him.

  A drake. Someone she shouldn’t love.

  I shouldn’t like him. It’s all wrong, surely? All wrong and twisted.

  “You’re right. I do like him.”


  “I knew it,” Seon said, thumping her hand on Anya’s shoulder. “It’s one thing to know it, another to hear it… sorry.” The blasted woman grinned like she’d done something clever. “So why not just… say this to him?”

  Anya gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know if he likes me that way.” Even though her mother said Kalgrin did. Even though Kalgrin treated her with reverence. “And if he did, I might have left it too late.”

  “Anya. You need to stop making excuses for yourself. Just stop. You know as well as I do that you want him. And you also know that until you ask, you won’t know.”

  Yes. And that thought sent a shiver of fear inside Anya. “What if… what if,” she mumbled, “he rejects me? And I look like a fool for thinking… for thinking that I had a chance with him?”

  “Then he rejects you and you look like a fool. But you still have a nice job. And you’re not going back to that plantation of yours. You need to take risks, Anya. You won’t get anywhere in life if you don’t take risks.” Seon glanced over to the window, her eyes going distant for a moment.

  You won’t get anywhere in life if you don’t take risks. Anya sensed the truth in those words. It applied to her former life only too well. No one took risks. And nothing happened. She took a risk instead. A huge one. And it made something happen. Unfortunately, it would have led to her demise. Until Kalgrin saved her.

  If she admitted to Kalgrin she liked him, what principles might she break with herself? The principle of not doing what her mother expected with the drake? The principle of learning to strike out on her own?

  A small, manic voice in the back of her mind said excuses, excuses. It’s just like Seon said. You’re making excuses and stalling.

  But why? Why did she stall?

  “You’re afraid,” Seon said, eyes gentle. “It’s something new to you, isn’t it? Liking someone in this manner. Wanting them, but fearing rejection. Considering going for that half-life instead, where you’ll always harbor those feelings of longing, but you won’t ever admit them because you don’t want to compromise what you have now.”