“Are you sure this time?” Ragan asked.
“Well, we have to go somewhere. Can't stay here,” Rose said with irritation. “You're the one who took the wrong fork in the road yesterday morning. Told you to go right and you insisted we keep going straight. You're as stubborn as your father.”
“That road was more overgrown than this one. Didn't look passable.” Ragan yawned and stretched his arms to his sides. “Tessen, quit hovering and go walk. My lovely mother and I need to argue some more.”
“It was fine, Ragan. Maybe even better than this road.” Rose huffed and jammed her hand into her hip. “It was because of that gods-damned turtle on the path, wasn't it?”
Serida still in my arms, I left the Dannises behind for the shadows of the trees. We walked along the edge of the bog until I no longer heard Ragan and Rose bickering, then sat down on the thick moss and watched the lights and vapors dance across the morass. I hadn't intended to walk far, just far enough to get some time to myself after too many days of being immobilized and incessantly attended to.
“I don't want to rule the world, do you?” I mumbled. Serida scrambled off my lap so she could peer over the low edge of the bank and into the murky, algae-coated water. “I don't want to come into power, or be instantly seen as different. I don't think Shan does, either.” I sighed and shook my fingers through the tangled coils of my hair. “Some mess he got us into by stealing you two. I wonder if your mother knows you're gone. I wonder if she knows you even exist at all.”
Serida's muscles tensed and her tail twitched. In a single, swift motion, she thrust her head into the water. She remained under for only a second before returning to the surface with a crayfish. It crunched between her tiny teeth as she snapped it in half, then in half again into pieces small enough to swallow.
“Oh, you've discovered fishing now? Good. Catch us some more and we can boil them for breakfast.”
Serida paused to narrow her eyes at me, then returned to her dinner.
“Fine, I get it. You don't like to share. Enjoy your crayfish. I can't wait for when I have to buy entire flocks of sheep just to keep you fed for a day. I don't want to buy sheep. They scare the everloving shit out of me.”
I shuddered as a swarm of winged insects the size of hummingbirds zipped between the floating swamp lights. They flew within a short distance of the peat bank, then returned to the shadows of the morass. Serida watched them with hungry interest, and hung her head in disappointment when they vanished.
I leaned forward to run my fingertips along the luminescent bulb at the end of her tail. It was nearly the size of a chicken egg and glowed the same color as the little swamp lights. I still wasn't sure what they were. Some sort of insect, perhaps, or maybe even will-o-the-wisps. None were close enough to shore for me to see them clearly.
Serida gulped the last of her crayfish, then licked her hands and looked at me expectantly.
“If you want more, catch more,” I said. “Those bugs looked tasty to you, didn't they? You know, I have some family members who'd probably agree with you on that. Yana loves to eat bugs, and Daelis doesn't seem to mind them, either. I wonder what they're doing right now. I hope they're okay. I've seen Shan eat crickets and grasshoppers, so you've got something in common with him besides Lumin. You know, I really do like you, but I wish you'd bonded with my brother instead of with me. Not your fault, but you've caused nothing but trouble, and anyway, I think you would have been better off with someone magic-skilled. Every other dragonbound person I've ever heard of was a magic-skilled elf or half-elf. Our pairing seems unfortunate, most of all for you.”
Serida approached me one small, hesitant step at a time. Her muscles coiled and she sprang at me. I didn't resist and allowed her weight to force me onto my back. The moss was soft and cool beneath me.
Her body relaxed as she sprawled over my chest in what felt like an attempt at an embrace. Her tongue flickered against my cheek before she rested her chin on my forehead. This was comfortable, so comfortable that my body threatened to carry me into sleep. I couldn't allow it. The veiled sunlight was fading and we needed to return to camp soon.
“I love you, too,” I whispered. I stroked the ridge between Serida's wings and she licked my brow. “I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but I'm scared. What if we meet someone who wants to hurt you? I'll fight for you, but I'm not as strong as I was before I fought that Foxfae. What if something happens before I'm restored? You'll be able to fight for yourself eventually, but for now you're still just a baby and you're small enough to pick up and steal away. I don't know how to reconcile this resentment that I'm bound to you with not wanting to lose you. This is one big gods-damned mess and I don't know how to begin cleaning it up.”
Serida arched her neck and pressed her forehead against mine. Her warmth was soothing, and familiar despite the short time we'd known each other. I was going to miss this sort of affection when she grew too big to sit on my chest. Eventually our positions would need to be reversed and I'd be the one lying across her. That was when I'd be able to ride upon her back. I wasn't sure if solar dragon wings were any good for flying, or if they were more vestigial and only good for gliding, but either way we'd be able to soar. For the first time, I felt a touch of excitement about my future with Serida. We could learn to fly together, and that was worth fighting for.
Frogs croaked, calling out a warning of nightfall. I breathed in the lilac scent of Serida's scales, the stagnant malodor of the bog, the gamy aroma of roasting duck. I needed to go back to the others. The safety and comfort of the moment was only a wonderful illusion.
I stroked Serida's neck and kissed her under her chin. “We need to go back now. They'll start to worry if we're gone any longer. More long days ahead, but we'll get to where we need to be. Hopefully someone in Anthora can help us understand each other a little better. I need to keep reminding myself to be patient. That's a difficult thing for me sometimes. We'll figure this out. I know we will.”
Chapter 29
Follow the snails.
The whisper came to me at the teetering cusp between asleep and awake. It caressed me gently, tickling the hairs on the backs of my hands and licking the dew from my throat. There was no pitch, no true voice, just a subtle and repeated whisper.
Follow the snails.
“What snails?” Shan startled upright, his eyes half-open and his chin bobbing.
“You hear it, too?” I eased myself to sitting and rubbed the grit from my eyes.
“Follow the snails. Follow the snails. Follow the gods-damned slimesarding snails. Is that what you're hearing? Insipid little whisper about snails, jamming itself under my skin like splinters.” Shan sneered at a stone near his hip. He picked it up and lobbed it into the trees. It ricocheted off the trunk of a dying black birch and landed with a heavy plop in the moss. Above us, a squirrel chittered before launching itself to the branches of a different tree.
“Yeah, I heard it,” I said, stretching. “I don't hear it now, but I heard it as I was waking. Who was it?”
We surveyed the campsite. It was barely dawn and everyone was still asleep except for Nador, who prodded the smoldering coals of last watch's fire and stared at us with an eyebrow raised and even more confusion than usual in her dark eyes.
“Morning, boys,” she said. Her nose twitched. Her attempt to relieve the itch left a wide soot smudge on her skin.
“What snails, Nador?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Was that you whispering about snails a minute ago?”
Nador tilted her chin and scratched at her scalp, leaving another trail of soot. “No.”
I yawned and reached for Serida, who was entangled with her brother between Shan and me. The slight color variation was the only thing indicating which segment belonged to which dragon. Neither dragon stirred at my touch.
I carefully twisted to stretch my spine and gazed into a clump of ferns. A mid-sized black and green spider gazed back at me from the center of its dew-sp
eckled web. I hoped it wasn't venomous. “Well, we saw enough snails yesterday before we left the Morass that it's not really a stretch for us both to dream about snails.”
I turned away from the spider to find Shan staring at me, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.
“Not a dream,” he said, his jaw tense. “Whispers in the moss, whispers in the wood. I've heard others, but not this loud.” His chin dropped toward his chest and he watched the steady rise and fall of the coiled dragons. “They whisper to us, you know. Little thoughts as they strengthen their links with us. Perhaps it was them.”
“If it was, I'm sure they're whispering strictly with their stomachs. They seemed to enjoy yesterday's snail breakfast well enough. Satisfying crunch for them, disgusting noise for us.”
Nearby, Ragan drew a strident breath before propping himself on his elbow. “What day is it?”
“Not a gods-damned clue,” Nador said, smirking. “Don't even know what month it is anymore. Don't know, don't care, irrelevant.”
Ragan blinked twice. His eyes darted from side to side as he scrutinized the trees with suspicion set in his brow. “I think it was tomorrow last week. Shit's turning inside out.”
“Go back to sleep, Ragan.”
“Okay.” Ragan closed his eyes and returned his head to his makeshift pillow.
Nador giggled, her hand to her lips. “Whatever he was dreaming about, I hope it was half as good as the dream I had before Rose woke me for watch. I was back at that mixed-sex brothel in Fogspire and–”
“All right, I get the idea,” I said. I had no interest in listening to yet another tale from Nador's erotic dreams.
“Oh, do tell more,” Shan said, winking at me. “Don't let him discourage you.”
“You two can exchange stories later, when we're back on the road. What you like to do is your own business and I'm not going to shame you for it, but I'm also not interested in talking about it.”
“You're no fun. Prude.”
“Tart.”
Nador rubbed her twitching eyelid. More soot. “We'll talk later, Shan. Your little brother doesn't know what he's missing.”
“He knows, he just doesn't care. He asked me once why I had a bruise on my collarbone and I told him I liked being bitten. He just sighed—you know that irritating 'whatever' sigh he does—and walked away.” Shan clicked his tongue against his teeth and lowered his eyes toward the moss. “Too bad I can't take that poppy concoction every night. I wake up feeling almost like a person when I drink it. I think. I can't quite remember what that actually felt like anymore.”
“Poppy dreams of snails.” I stood and arched my back. I was still achy and had to be careful about putting pressure on my scars, but I was overall starting to feel decent. Weak, but decent. “You never stopped being a person. I'm going to boil some water for tea. We've still got elderflower and nettle, and if you want sweet we can tap a birch. Want some?”
“I do. Lots of sweet for me,” Nador said. She stood and tossed her prodding stick into the fire. “I'll go collect us a little birch sap. I'd forgotten we could do that. Been so long since I had anything sweet that I can't resist the thought.”
“Don't go far or follow any snails,” Shan said.
“Heh. I won't.”
∆∆∆
Ragan didn't listen when Shan and I told him not to follow the snails. He told us the nonsense voices in our heads were nothing to be afraid of, and besides, the snails were traveling the same road in the same direction as we were. He didn't want to leave the road unless we ran into Fae, so he followed the snails and so did we.
They were sparse at first—tiny, immature creatures with translucent yellow and black shells. The only reason I noticed them at all was because the vibrancy of their coloring contrasted with the browns and greens of the forest road. The first ones were only the size of a spring pea, but as the hours passed, the snails became larger and more frequent. Cherry-sized, walnut-sized . . . by midday they were the size of an apple and we passed at least one every five to ten yards.
“Weird, weird, weird,” I said to Shan as we passed a cluster of three snails.
Shan looked down with concern. “Yeah. Remember that time I accidentally stepped on a snail and crushed it? Made me cry. I'll never forget that sound. This is bringing back memories of that. I keep fearing that snails are being crushed underhoof.”
“I think they're fine. They're all on the left side of the road, haven't seen any toward the center.” I looked ahead on the road. Marita chatted with Ragan not far in front of us. Nador, Iefyr, and Rose were somewhere behind. I occasionally heard Nador laugh, but they were far enough back that I couldn't see them through the shadows of the trees. As the scattered light danced across the shell of yet another snail, realization overtook me. “Do they look backward to you?”
“Who's backward?” Shan asked.
“The snails. I'm certain their shells usually spiral the other direction. These ones all spiral widdershins.”
“I have no idea. Wouldn't surprise me. Everything's a little different in the Faelands. Either trying to kill us or just plain weird. Hell, even these trees are weird. Leagues and leagues of nothing but pines and birches jumbled up in an overgrown tangle. I've been watching for other tree types but all I see are pines and birches, birches and pines, ferns, moss, mushrooms, and the reeds that grow along the creek that comes and goes along the edge of the road.”
“There's more plants than that, just not more trees,” I said. I looked to either side of the road to confirm Shan's assertion about the trees. What he said was true—nothing in sight except weeping pines and black birches. “The Jade Realm's redwood forests aren't much more diverse than this. Madrones and redwoods, maybe one or two other types of trees, low-light growth underneath. The trees here themselves are odd, but the forest is ordinary enough.”
Shan shuddered and fastened his jacket up to his neck. He turned to check behind him, where Lumin was contently sleeping in his produce box. Serida was doing the same behind me. “I'm sorry I got you into this disaster. I wasn't thinking clearly when I gave you the egg. I shouldn't have forced this upon you. I knew it would alter your entire life and I did it anyway. I wronged you and I'm so sorry.”
I brushed a stray pine needle off my shoulder and shrugged. “I know. It's in the past, can't change it now.”
“You have every right to be mad at me.”
“I'm not mad at you. I understand why you did it and I forgive you. You wanted to share something profound with me, and now you do. The dragons are part of us now and maybe they were always meant to be.”
“Didn't think you believed in fate.” Shan lingered slightly behind me and as far away from the snails as his horse could comfortably walk.
“I . . . I don't know what I believe in.” I ducked to avoid a low birch branch. “Whispers told us about snails, and now there are snails. You stole dragon eggs from an underground labyrinth, but maybe it wasn't a compulsive theft. Maybe you had a feeling they were meant for us. Now they're part of us and always will be. They're our children in a way. Just like how Mom can't regret us, we can't regret them. So, I accept your apology and I want you to stop regretting making me bind with Serida.”
“Regret is an anchor dragging me to the ocean floor.” Shan's voice was a throaty whisper. I suspected he was crying, but I didn't want to embarrass him by turning around to look.
“Cut the chain, Shan. What's done is done. Move on.”
“I'm trying.” Shan coughed several times. Liquid sloshed as he retrieved his waterskin and drank from it. “But, then I keep remembering that this is all my fault. I want to fix it but I can't figure out how.”
“Some broken things can't be fixed. Sweep up the pieces, drop them in the bin, and move on to something new.”
“I don't think I can be fixed. Maybe I should be tossed in the bin.”
I slowed Saragon so I could ride next to Shan instead of in front of him. Tears trickled down his scarred cheeks. He raised his hood and t
urned his face away from me. I leaned to the side to touch his knee. He jerked away and nearly ran Evinlore off the road.
“I'm not going to toss you away.” I hoped my voice conveyed more reassurance than worry. “You're scarred, not broken. Be patient and you'll see just how strong those scars have made you. Don't give up on yourself. I certainly won't. Neither will Marita. She loves you, you know, and she wants to spend her life with you. I know you love her, too. We don't give up on the people we love. I love you, Ragan loves you–”
“Scars make skin weaker, not stronger, and Ragan can go fall into the burning void,” Shan growled. He tugged on the reins and urged his horse to canter away from me. He slowed before he reached Ragan and Marita, then returned to hanging his head to watch the snails. Unease bowed his shoulders like a leaden cloak.
“He doesn't want to listen even though he knows you're speaking to him out of love.” Rose was behind me. I moved Saragon to the right side of the road so she could catch up and ride her horse, Abracca, alongside mine.
“He's stubborn. I am, too. Sylleth trait, but he missed out on the innate resilience and had to fabricate his own.” I tugged at my collar and let my eyes follow a particularly wide slime trail that led to a snail with a shell the size of my head. Larger and larger and larger—where were they all going, and why? They moved so slowly that perhaps they spent their entire lives traveling this forest road, starting out tiny and growing into elderly behemoths before they reached their destination. Did they even know what their destination was, or were they driven purely by instinct and the collective scent trail left by the snails in line ahead of them?
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