“No. We think they got out the back door as soon as they realized things were going south. Probably when Taima showed up.”
Nora allowed herself a small smirk. “Maybe they’ll get caught by trogs.”
Ovrun’s hand came up to her cheek, and despite the dried blood there, he rested his warm palm on her skin. “When my mind came back, I saw all the blood on your face, and . . .” He shuddered. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m okay, Ovrun.” Nora sighed. “What do we do now?”
“What I want to do is drag you away from here and do whatever I can to make you forget any of this ever happened.”
Now, that was the best idea she’d ever heard.
Unfortunately, Ovrun kept talking. “But nobody here knows what happened. You’re the only one who can tell them. Then we’ve got to figure out how to get everyone to safety. The workers who escaped will probably go back to the city to get word to your father.”
My father. Nora sat up straighter, her head clearer than it had been since she’d regained consciousness. “Ovrun, my father was here. A feather lyster brought him. They’re on their way back to the city.”
Ovrun cursed. “We have less time than we thought.” He caressed her cheek. “When do you think you’ll be ready to talk to everyone?”
She stood. “It doesn’t matter if I’m ready. Go on, use that big voice of yours. Gather everyone in front of the bay where they kept Osmius.”
Ovrun ran off, and Nora walked toward Osmius and Taima, who were huddled together away from the survivors. As she walked, two people, seated apart from everyone else, caught her eye. One was in gray, but the other wore a dirty, blue coat. She smiled, relieved to see that Krey was safe. And that must be Zeisha. Nora adjusted her course so she could meet the girl they’d all fought for.
She stopped when Zeisha leaned toward Krey and kissed him. It wasn’t a quick kiss; neither of them looked like they had any intention of stopping. Okay, not the best time for an introduction. Nora knew she should keep moving, but she couldn’t help watching. There was unmistakable passion between them, enough to bring warmth to Nora’s cheeks.
This kiss, though—it was somehow special. Nora had experienced passion with Ovrun, and, to a lesser extent, with other boys. She stood, head cocked to one side, trying to figure out what was different about Krey and Zeisha’s kiss.
They truly know each other. The truth hit her like a soft stone, nearly taking her breath away. There was a confidence in the way those two touched each other, a selflessness. Krey and Zeisha, she was certain, weren’t just kissing because they wanted each other. They were kissing because they loved each other.
An ache filled Nora’s chest, catching her off guard. Was she really jealous of an annoying, small-town boy and a girl who’d lost months of her life in captivity?
Yes. I am. The couple kissing in the dirt had something Nora hadn’t witnessed in years. Not, she realized with another pang, since her mother died. Her parents had truly loved each other. She saw the same genuine devotion in Krey and Zeisha. The scene elicited a craving in Nora, one she’d never felt before.
She pulled her gaze away and resumed her walk toward the two dragons.
With Osmius and Taima on either side of her and Krey and Ovrun behind her, Princess Ulminora Abrios addressed the crowd.
She’d given plenty of speeches, usually before people who could only be called adoring fans. She remembered blowing cold snow over the laughing crowd in Tirra, the day she met Krey. The day that changed everything.
This speech felt nothing like that one. The trogs didn’t care who she was. She wasn’t their princess. Many of them greeted her with hostile glares. Yes, they had their territory back. However, ten trogs had died fighting a battle they could’ve stayed out of. Time would tell if they felt the sacrifice had been worth it.
The militia members, who’d lost two of their comrades, responded to Nora better than the trogs. When she introduced herself, most of the soldiers gaped at her. Some even looked impressed. Their expressions, however, quickly shifted again. Eyes narrowed and foreheads wrinkled as they waited to learn more about the months they’d lost.
Nora didn’t mince words. “Those of you in gray shirts were forced into mental slavery by my father.” She ignored the pain that accompanied that statement. “He used you to create a lyster militia.”
Few of the soldiers reacted with surprise. Word had started spreading as soon as everyone had come back to their right minds.
“What happened here today?” someone in gray shouted.
Nora told them about the battle. She explained how she, Krey, and Ovrun had joined with the trogs, trying to disable militia members and get to The Overseer.
She gestured to the dragons on either side of her. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at Taima. Yellow blood still seeped from the majestic beast’s injuries. “We allied ourselves with two noble creatures.” As she described the dragons’ roles in the battle, she never mentioned their names. Osmius and Taima sent her a gentle, unison thank you.
A trog’s loud voice rang out through the still street. “A woman touch my head. Then I wake, standing in the street. What happen in between?”
Nora’s right hand fluttered up to her cheek, and when she felt the dried blood there, she gritted her teeth against a flood of remembered agony. She dropped her hand and, trying to keep her voice clear and calm, told everyone about the arrival of The Overseer and the king. The only detail she excluded was Faylie’s name. She couldn’t say it without weeping. When she finished describing how her spike of ice had killed The Overseer, the crowd was silent.
At last, a voice rang out. “How did the king and this Overseer control our minds?”
Nora briefly closed her eyes. Whatever she told them, it wouldn’t be enough. They’d want answers to the same questions that were tormenting her.
She met the gaze of the young woman who’d asked the question. “We don’t know how his magic works. But I vow to you that we will learn the truth and stop the king.” Murmurs swelled in the crowd, and Nora sensed their dissatisfaction with her response. Well, she wasn’t satisfied with it either. In time, she’d find answers.
A former militia member raised her hand. She looked terribly young. Then again, everyone in the militia was young. “Can we go home now?” she asked.
Nora squeezed her eyes shut, and the tragedy of the entire situation rushed at her like a runaway wagon. Her father had stolen so much from these people. They just wanted to return to their lives and families. How could she tell them that if they went home, the king would certainly recapture them?
Krey must’ve sensed her difficulty, because he stepped forward and spoke to the crowd in a hoarse voice. “Right now, the king is on his way back to Cellerin City. He doesn’t know that we won, but he does know that we’ve joined with trogs and dragons to fight him. He will send people to secure this warehouse. When he sees that his militia has been freed, he’ll look for all of you. All of us. I’m sorry, but we can’t go home.”
Nora looked up at him, seeing the grief in his tight jaw and wet eyes. She knew he missed his family as much as everyone else did.
As Krey’s words sank in, the crowd grew unsettled. Shouts erupted: “Where are we going to go?” “What do you mean, we can’t go home?” Trogs joined in the verbal fray, and one loud voice rose above the others: “You must leave our city!”
Nora raised her hands to quiet the crowd, but no one was watching her. The shouting grew so loud, she feared a fight would break out. Just as she turned to Ovrun to suggest he speak up, Osmius spoke to her. We will calm them.
Both dragons lifted their mouths toward the sky, and great jets of orange flame emerged. There were gasps and screams, and then everyone went silent.
“We will not fight each other again!” Nora said, not trying to keep the anger from her voice. “That would just make the king’s job easier! Those of you who were in the militia, I want you to gather over there.” She pointed.
“Figure out which three of you were captive the longest, and send those people here to meet with us. Trogs, send up two or three people who can represent you. Healers and anyone waiting for healing, go over there.” She pointed again. “We’ll figure out what comes next, and we’ll do it quickly, because we don’t have time to do it any other way!”
Miracle of miracles, everyone started moving. Two healers—one trog, one soldier, gathered with about a dozen injured people. Taima walked that way too.
Where are you going? Nora asked the dragon.
They are using my blood to heal.
That brought a sad smile to Nora’s mouth. Thank you. She turned to Krey and pointed at his throat, which was still covered in bruises. “You’d better get that healed before we start our talks.”
Krey nodded and jogged toward the healers. Before long, the trog and militia leaders approached Nora. She greeted them politely, but she didn’t dare hope they’d get through this next part without arguing.
“New-city folk do not belong with trogs.”
It took quite a bit of effort for Krey not to roll his eyes at the gray-haired, male trog who’d said the same thing at least four times now. He was the oldest person in the fight today, Krey chided himself. He’s infuriating, but he deserves respect.
“They don’t have anywhere else to go,” Krey said firmly. “If they leave the city, the king will capture and kill them. You may not care about that, but you should care about this: the king may also come after you because you fought with us. Every member of that militia trained for months to fight with magic. Don’t you think it would help to have some people like that on your side?”
The female trog who’d originally met with Krey, Nora, and Ovrun spoke up. “When we agree to join your fight, you tell us we will be free from the king. Now you tell us the king will attack?”
“None of us were thinking that far ahead.” Maybe he was being too honest, but Krey couldn’t take it back now. “I bet you thought ahead, though. You considered the risks, and you decided it was worth it to defend your city.”
The woman folded her arms, but she didn’t argue the point.
Krey shifted his attention to the two women and one man who represented the militia. Each one of them looked to be around his age. They hadn’t contributed much to this meeting. They were probably still in shock.
The female trog spoke again. “We will let them stay.”
Krey’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“One condition,” the woman said. Her mouth curved in a small smile. “Well . . . five conditions.”
“Five?” Nora asked.
The woman pointed at Nora. “One.” Her wrinkled finger shifted to Ovrun. “Two.” She pointed at Krey, Osmius, and Taima. “Three. Four. Five.”
“What do you want from us?” Nora asked.
“You will stay. You will fight with us.”
Krey caught Nora’s gaze, then Ovrun’s, receiving tiny nods from each of them. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to go.
“I’ll ask the dragons,” Nora said. She looked between Osmius and Taima. Seconds passed, then a minute, then two. At last, she said, “The city is no place for dragons. They’ll find a lair in the mountain range southeast of Deroga. It’s close enough for me to communicate with them. When we need their help, they will come.”
Krey nodded. “Do we have a deal?”
The female trog slapped her hand hard on the table. “Your hand on mine,” she said to Krey. “The trog way.”
He placed his hand on hers.
The woman turned to the former soldiers. “One of you.”
A woman with sad eyes and short, black hair added her hand to the pile.
“Welcome to the Star Clan of Deroga,” the female trog said.
39
During hungry times, my parents organized community music nights. We had no food, just instruments, singing, and dancing. The physical activity made us even hungrier, I suppose. But everything’s bearable when you’re dancing.
-The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios
“Trogs know how to party.” Nora looked up at Ovrun and found him grinning and bopping up and down to the music. He looked ridiculous. She kind of loved it.
They were on the ground floor of a tall building, in what had once been a lobby. The trogs had turned it into a community space, with tables and benches along the edges. The center of the room was open and currently occupied by dancers. It was just past dusk, and countless candles lit up the space.
Three trogs stood along one edge of the dance floor, playing a fast-paced tune. Two of them strummed stringed instruments Nora had never seen before, and the other beat a set of four hand drums.
Nora hadn’t known what to expect when the trogs had agreed to let thirty-five outsiders move in, but they’d caught her off guard when they’d suggested a celebration.
The white-haired, female trog, who’d finally introduced herself as Eira, had explained, “The coming time will be difficult. We must start strong.”
“We don’t expect a party,” Ovrun had said. “You lost ten people today. We know you’re mourning.”
Eira had lifted her chin. “When trogs die, we dance. It honors them. They are with us still.”
Nora couldn’t argue with that. Eira had then explained that soon, they’d all get assignments: cleaning, cooking, hunting for shimshims, and more. Nora had stifled a groan when she’d realized shimshim meat would still make up a major part of her diet.
Plenty of trogs were dancing. About a dozen former militia members had joined in, while others sat on the sidelines, alone or in small groups. Some of them ate simple food the trogs had put out on community tables. Others stood, eyes glazed, struggling to adjust to their new reality. Nora waved at Zeisha’s friend Isla, who was chatting with another former soldier.
Ovrun extended his hand. “Want to dance?”
Her mouth widened into a broad smile. “Sure.”
Nora’s usual dance moves didn’t work for the trog music, so she moved however it felt right. Ovrun did the same. Despite the fact that they were in Deroga, dancing with trogs they’d feared would kill them a day earlier, the party felt fabulously normal. All day, Nora had fought off flashbacks of getting her face carved up and killing Faylie. The music helped banish such thoughts.
She scanned the crowd, looking for Krey and Zeisha. Eventually, she spotted them sitting alone at a table, faces close together as they talked. Again, that strange surge of envy slid into Nora’s mind. She turned her attention back to Ovrun.
“They’re disgustingly cute,” he said, nodding toward the reunited couple.
Nora laughed. “That they are.” She, Ovrun, Krey, and Zeisha had spent most of the day together. Nora had immediately liked Zeisha, who exuded sweetness. “I can see why he loves her. On the other hand . . .” She trailed off.
“Yeah, I don’t know what she sees in him either,” Ovrun said.
That had already become a running joke between the four of them. Once again, Nora laughed at it. But when her gaze found Ovrun, he wasn’t laughing. He was watching her, his lips parted and his eyes dark with desire. Nora swore her heart was melting into her ribs, even as it beat furiously.
The musicians transitioned into a slow, sweet tune. Ovrun took both Nora’s hands and twined his fingers in hers. Then he twirled her so her back was to his chest, his arms crossed over hers. They swayed together, and despite their slow movements, Nora’s breaths came faster. Ovrun spun her to face him again.
She let go of him and reached up, resting her hands on his shoulders. He brought his hands to her waist. Her gaze roamed across his broad shoulders and his muscular arms.
“Hey, eyes up here,” Ovrun murmured.
She looked up and found him watching her, smirking. “You’ve got great eyes,” Nora said, “but the rest of you—it’s very distracting.”
Ovrun let out a low, growly laugh that rearranged Nora’s insides.
“Ovrun,” she ventured, “I’m sure you
realize this by now, but . . . it doesn’t matter what my dad thinks of you.”
He closed his eyes briefly and released a short sigh. “I know. But you’re still in line to be queen.”
“I don’t think I want to be.”
“You might not be able to avoid it.” He shook his head. “And that’s not my world. I don’t even want it to be.”
Nora swallowed. “What do you want?”
He looked off to one side, then met her gaze again. “A simple life. A wife and a few kids. Work that I enjoy. A house and maybe a little bit of land.”
“I gotta say”—Nora pressed closer to Ovrun—“that future sounds pretty perfect.”
His eyes narrowed. “Somehow I doubt you’ll end up living a simple life.”
“I might! Everything’s up in the air now. Are we really basing our decisions on something that might never happen?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice low. “What decisions are you talking about?”
She let her gaze meander down to his lips, then back to his eyes, her mouth quirking in a hopeful smile. “You promised to give me something when we made it out of the battle alive.”
He licked his lips, and she could see him trying not to smile. “It’s probably a bad idea.”
“Maybe,” she whispered.
He pulled her off the dance floor, sat on the edge of a table, and pulled her close. Then he stole her breath with a kiss that burned away every worry about her future. If a crowd hadn’t surrounded them, she didn’t think even Ovrun, with all his logic and honor, would’ve stopped.
But they were surrounded, and Ovrun did stop, pulling his lips off hers and pressing his forehead against hers. “Like I said,” he murmured between rapid breaths, “probably a bad idea.”
“Best bad idea I’ve ever had.”
It must’ve been past midnight when Eira approached the table where Nora, Ovrun, Krey, Zeisha, and Isla were all sitting. For at least an hour, they’d been talking quietly and snacking on some sort of delicious, dried vegetable. Eira sat, and the table quieted.
The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1) Page 35