by Shae Ford
Kyleigh knew what he felt. She knew it all too well. “Jealousy — it's a human emotion."
Silas raised his brows. “I see. And what is jealousy?"
Selfishness, the dragon in her said. Refusing to do what’s best for those you love. But for all the dragon’s wisdom, it was the human that spoke aloud:
“It's when you want something so badly, but it's always just out of reach. Then somebody else comes along, someone who knows nothing of your struggles. They don't understand the heartache you've had to endure. They simply walk up, and they take it — they take the thing you wanted so badly straight out of your grasp. And you can't even be angry because deep in your heart, you know they're better suited for it. That's what it feels like to be jealous.”
Silas’s glowing eyes had gone wide while she spoke. “Hmm … perhaps I was only hungry.”
Kyleigh said nothing. He could deny it all he wanted, but she’d felt the same thing. She’d felt it every time Gwen and Kael returned from a hunt, every time the Thane goaded him into a fight … every time she did something that made the red burn his face.
Jealousy was a strange feeling — fiery and cold all at once. Her dragon wisdom was a flimsy defense against it, a thin pane of glass stretched over a growling storm. But for now, it was enough.
It would have to be enough.
*******
Kyleigh didn’t go to dinner that night. She spent the long hours of the evening thrashing at her forge — letting the dragon stuff her bothersome human worries aside.
Night passed. Morning came and went. Her hammer fell in careful strokes. The tones that struck her ears were sharp at first, but rang sweetly at the ends. She found herself humming along with it — sometimes matching the pitch, sometimes just above or below. Her voice danced with the beating of the hammer in an unbroken song.
Then the music ended with a sharp hiss and a cloud of steam.
“Is that why Harbinger sings?”
Kyleigh’s heart leapt into her throat. She’d been trying so desperately to drown everything out that she hadn’t been listening for the door. Now Kael stood directly behind her.
Something strange had happened to him. It had all started with his gait: he used to walk with his shoulders slightly forward, like he meant to ward off every eye. But now they’d crept back so far that anybody who didn’t know him well might accidentally mistake him for someone who was all right with being looked at.
It wasn’t long after his shoulders straightened that bits of his rough-spun clothes had begun to disappear — only to be replaced by the furs of the creatures he hunted. Now even most of those were gone.
He stood before her now in nothing but boots and patchwork trousers. There was dirt on his limbs, scruff on his face, and little bramble scratches across his chest. He looked positively wild.
And it suited him.
Kyleigh tore her eyes away quickly. “How long have you been standing there?” She’d gone to pull the lid shut over her forge when she noticed Kael wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t squinting or coiling back. The heat didn’t seem to bother him at all.
“I’ve been trying something out,” he said when he saw her gaping. “You didn’t answer me. Does Harbinger sing because you do?”
“I … I suppose so. I forged him from my scales, inside my flame … perhaps he was already so much a part of me that my songs gave him a voice of his own. I’ve never really given it much thought.”
He studied the yellow fury of the flames, his eyes bright with interest. “Your forges are different from the others I’ve seen. In Blades and Bellows it says that a forge should be opened so that the flames can feed on the air.”
“Well, that book is about forging with regular flame. Dragonflame is different.”
“How so?”
Kyleigh knew she had to be careful. His question seemed innocent enough, but it might dip into deeper things — things better left unsaid. “Air feeds regular flame, but it’ll suffocate dragonflame.”
“Why?”
“I suppose it’s because our fires sit inside our bellies most of the time. A dragon’s breath is certainly hot, but it burns out quickly in the open air. That’s why I have to keep my forge covered.”
He stepped closer to the flame, his brows furrowed in concentration. She was certain there wasn’t a single bead of sweat on his face. “How long does it last?”
“Forever, if the air doesn’t get to it. I have to close it up every now and then to let the flames grow back — Kael!”
She grabbed him just before he could reach the fire. She tried to pull him back, but his arm slid only so far before it stopped. A new strength twined through his limbs like cords — pulled taut beneath his skin. She knew that to move him an inch would be like trying to pull a rope tied to the mountains.
“It’ll melt your flesh off the bone,” she said, glaring to mask her surprise.
He pulled her hand away. “No, it won’t. Trust me.”
She had to cross her arms very tightly as Kael reached for the flames. She realized she could no longer stop him. The days when she’d been able to pull him from danger were over. Now there would be no contending with his stubborn will.
He’s strong enough on his own, the dragon reminded her. You should be happy for him.
She was happy for him … though she was also a little sad. Watching how he’d grown was like weathering the change of seasons: half of her was excited for summer, but the other half would miss the spring.
Her toes curled as Kael’s hand went into the flames. She reached for him instinctively, expecting him to yelp in pain. But his smile stopped her short.
It was one of his rarest smiles: an involuntary mix of confidence and joy — a moment when his spiny shell peeled back to reveal his secrets. His fingers ran through the flames, making them dance across his palm. The thrill that wafted from him thickened the air like a pirate’s grog. It made her feel numb and powerful all at once.
A few seconds later, Kael took his hand away. He reached up and shut the trough of flame, plunging the forge into darkness. As Kyleigh’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw his hands flex at his sides. It was a subtle movement — she wondered if he even realized that he’d done it. But she knew immediately what it meant:
“You were whispering. How in blazes did you figure out how to stick your hand into dragonflame?”
His eyes darted away as he shrugged. “It wasn’t that difficult.”
She didn’t press it. She’d learned never to come at Kael from the front: he would raise his guard and fend her off with an eye-rolling amount of stubbornness. She would have to circle him carefully and wait for the opportunity to present itself.
“Are you ready to talk?”
He raised his brows. “About what?”
“Aren’t there questions you’d like to ask me?”
“None that I can think of.”
His mouth stayed serious, but there was a strange lilt to his words — one that seemed familiar … yet out of place. He turned his shoulder to her; his face was suspiciously innocent as he trailed his gaze about the room. It was so unusual that it took her a moment to realize what was happening:
Kael was playing with her.
“I once knew a boy who would’ve died rather than walk around without his shirt,” Kyleigh said as she watched him pace.
“Well, he’s got far more important things to worry about, now.”
“Really? You aren’t you worried someone’s going to tattle on you for being a whisperer?”
“No. Who would they possibly tell?” Kael paced to the end of the room and turned. His hands stayed noticeably inside his pockets as he paced back — leaving his chest exposed.
The last time she’d seen him like this, there’d been bones sticking out of him. But now those bones were covered over in a layer of flesh. New lines had appeared along his skin, lines that carved shadows into the pale — lines, she was quite certain, that weren’t bones at all.
It was rathe
r … unexpected.
With no small amount of effort, Kyleigh forced her eyes back to his face. “So there isn’t a single question bouncing around inside that red head of yours?”
“I supposed there isn’t.”
“Why do I find that difficult to believe?”
“Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough,” he said.
She had to try very hard indeed to keep from shoving him as he turned.
“Do you spend all your time here?”
He was back to being serious once more. She was slightly relieved. “Yes. Well, except for dinner.”
“You weren’t at dinner yesterday.”
“I was … busy. I’ll be there tonight,” she said when he looked at her.
His brows furrowed and his lips clamped together tightly as he glared about the forge. “Where do you sleep?”
“In that corner over there. I promise it’s more comfortable than it looks.”
A dangerous patch of red sprouted across his face as he glared at the floor planks. “That couldn’t possibly be comfortable.”
“It isn’t bad. I’ve certainly had worse.”
“You have?”
She smirked. “I know you’re going to find it completely shocking, but this isn’t my first time in prison.”
“I’ll bet it isn’t,” he grumbled. Then he straightened. “Well, I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Kael, wait.”
He stopped in the doorway, brows raised.
She took a deep breath. “Are you certain you’re all right? There’s nothing you want to ask about … your past? I’d be happy to answer anything.”
“I know you would. It’s just …” His fist pounded into the doorframe — calm, but firm. “I’m not ready yet.”
That was all he was going to say about it. The way Kael handled his emotions always reminded her a bit of how caterpillars handled the spring: he would bury them away, letting them wriggle and grow until they finally burst free.
The problem was that by the time Kael wanted to talk about anything, it’d become a six-legged creature with bulging eyes and a frightful set of wings.
*******
Kael came late to the Hall that night. Dinner was already halfway over by the time he finally turned up, and Kyleigh intended to ask him where he’d been. But no sooner had he shoved through the doors than the wildmen sprang their trap: half a dozen warriors armed with swords bounded over their tables and surrounded him.
After seeing how handily he’d dealt with Griffith, most humans would’ve left him alone. But the wildmen weren’t like most humans. They would never let a monster sleep in the brush — they’d much rather poke it awake.
“You don’t belong here, mutt. Leave now, or we’ll kill you,” one of the warriors said. It might’ve been a convincing threat, had he not been grinning.
Kael sighed heavily. “Can I have a moment to think about it?”
It was a strange answer, given the fact that he was unarmed, shirtless, and facing the prospect of having to fight his way through a half-dozen swords. Not surprisingly, it seemed to confuse the warriors.
In the second it took them to adjust, Kael did something strange. His hands passed over his limbs, down his chest, across his neck and over his head. His fingers dragged as if he was trying to scrape something off his skin.
“What is it? Why is there such an odd, unsettling silence?” Baird hissed.
“Kael’s about to clobber them,” Griffith said. The battle hadn’t even started yet, and the blue marble was already rolling between his fingers.
Finally, Kael made a motion that looked as if he was washing his hands. Then he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not leaving. I suppose you’re going to have to kill me.”
The warriors attacked in a swarm.
Kael darted to the edge of their circle, swinging his limbs out beside him as he went. Two of the warriors were knocked onto their backs. Their mouths parted in surprised Os as they struck the ground.
“That one wrestled a boar by his tusks yesterday,” Griffith said, pointing to a downed man. “Pinned him and put him to sleep with his fist. Now look at him — knocked on his rump like a piglet! Ha!”
Kael sprinted for one of the tables. He vaulted over the heads of some craftsmen — who quickly scattered out of the warriors’ charging path. Kael stood on the table’s top and waited calmly as the warriors formed their ranks. Then he attacked.
The first warrior took a plate to the top of his head and stumbled back in surprise. The rest threw up their arms, trying to shield themselves against his blows. Kael defended his ground with dishes and cups, platters and plates. They shattered across the warriors’ skin, sending blinding pieces into the air. One warrior climbed the far end of the table and tried to attack him from behind.
Instead, he took a hambone to the face.
“What a walloping that was!” Griffith’s painted fists slammed into the tabletop and he howled. His arms trembled as if it took everything he had to keep from charging into the fray.
Other wildmen joined his cries, their voices rising in a peculiar song. The warriors fed on the thrill of battle. The craftsmen fed on the excitement in their cries, and the pounding rhythm of their fists traveled back to their warriors — carrying their frenzy to new heights.
Setheran had always said that to be a whisperer was to be understood. The differences in their talents gave each other everything they needed. They were like a flame that didn’t bow to the wind, a fire that fed itself. Kyleigh had never seen anything like it — not among beast or men. Together, the whisperers made the perfect creature. And in the very center of it all was Kael.
The warriors quickly grew frenzied by the craftsmen’s song. They lost themselves in a wild attack. One grabbed the table and heaved it onto its side — launching Kael over their heads. He landed on one foot and swung the other out behind him, catching a warrior under the chin. Kael had already added a new victim to his count before the last had finished crumpling to the ground.
He stepped in a careful pattern: turning to escape the warriors’ traps, darting out of the path of swords and dodging their grasps. It was a mesmerizing dance — one that made Kyleigh’s heart thrum in time with his steps. She watched, breathless, as Kael battered every hole in the warriors’ defense.
If an arm was raised too high, his fist collided with their ribs. If a foot was off balance, he knocked it out from under them. He swiped his arm against the flat of a warrior’s blade, popped it free, and caught it by the hilt. Then he flung it from his hand.
It wound up stuck in the wall above Gwen’s head — buried firmly between the ears of her prized bear.
“Kill him!” she screamed.
Only one warrior remained. His sword swooped down and Kael’s hand shot up to meet it. Kyleigh held her breath as they hurtled towards one another. They were going to collide — and no matter how clever he was, Kael’s flesh was no match for steel. She didn’t even have a chance to gasp as the blade struck him … struck, and promptly shattered into pieces.
What in blazes …?
She watched through a fog as Kael knocked the final warrior unconscious with a quick punch. He said something to Gwen that made the wildmen cheer; she replied with something far less savory. But it all felt like foam in Kyleigh’s ears.
She’d figured out what he’d done — how he’d shattered the sword and how he’d been able to stick his hand inside her flames. She’d figured it out … but she still couldn’t believe it.
As the wildmen filed out of the Hall, Kael stayed to wake the warriors and make certain their wounds were healed. They chattered excitedly as he woke them. They hounded him with questions. He gave answers that made them frown and walk away, disappointed.
Finally, his steps halted beside her.
“What have you done?”
His eyes went wide at her question. “I haven’t told anybody — I swear I haven’t. It’s your secret to tell.”
It was far more than a secret. “You�
��ve done the impossible,” she said quietly. “You’ve managed to find someway to conjure dragonscale armor out of nothing.”
His glare burned her. “You don’t trust me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have given you those gauntlets in the first place.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
She was worried about the future. She was worried that something she’d done would change the course of history — that the scribes would be able to trace a red line across a bloody final chapter to her name and say: Here’s where the darkness began.
“Nothing,” she said after a moment. “I suppose I’m just asking you to be careful.”
They left the Hall in an uneasy silence. He didn’t speak, and she couldn’t think of anything to say. So she listened to his breathing and the steady beat of his heart.
“Goodnight,” he said as they reached the forge.
He walked up the slope, never breaking pace. Kyleigh watched after him for a moment before she opened the door … and she took a startled step back.
There were strange smells inside the forge: the scent of pine mixed with the musk of animal. Kyleigh’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and the strange, shadowy mass in the corner of the room took shape.
It was a bed.
The bed’s frame was carved from pine and dressed in animal skins. A soaring dragon had been carved into the headboard; the legs had curled claws at their ends, each wrapped around an orb. An assortment of furs stuffed with what smelled like the down of geese padded its center. Folded on top of the fur covers was a pair of deerskin trousers.
Kyleigh stood there, staring at the bed and the trousers for nearly a full minute. Kael had never given her a gift before. She tried to remind herself that human gifts had many hundreds of meanings.
But as she studied the careful lines of his work, saw how each stitch sat so tightly, how it all seemed to come together in one stunning picture, almost alive in its beauty — she began to realize that some gifts had meanings that rang true across all sorts of hearts.