Storm’s teeth, she hadn’t meant toinviteanything. Letting him touch her had been a mistake.
When she reached the gate, Syla paused, afraid she would find Vorik trailing right behind her, close enough to embrace her again, to pull her back against him.
No, he wasn’t there. She told herself that was a relief, then looked around for him. His dragon remained, now lounging in the grass by the road, but where had Vorik gone?
A softahled her gaze to him.
“Is this apear?” Vorik’s soft words held wonder, as if he could hardly believe it, and he plucked one from a low-hanging branch and bit into it. He slumped against the tree trunk and groaned with delight. “Itisa pear.”
Syla stared over the fence at him, reminded of the berries he’d picked. There was something incongruous about such a fearsome warrior having a sweet tooth. Afruittooth.
She’d watchedhim kill someone and defeat several others with such physical prowess that it was breathtaking, if not terrifying. But he looked positively harmless leaning in the orchard, noshing the pear.
“Something I must not allow myself to think,” she murmured, walking up the flagstone path to the porch. “He may be the most dangerous person I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t worry,” Vorik called to her around a bite of pear. “I’ll watch the sky for you.” He raised the fruit in a salute.
She waved vaguely, not certain if he’d heard her words and was responding to them, or was simply letting her know he would keep an eye out while he raided the fruit trees. Either way, it wasn’t as reassuring as he’d possibly meant it to be.
She started up the wooden steps but halted. The front door stood open. Yes, it was as she feared. Something was amiss. Leaving the gate open seemed a simple enough mistake but the front door?
Worry sank into her gut. What if dragon riders had been here earlier? What if they’d known about Aunt Tibby and her moon-marked magic, and they’d come here to kill her? Just as Syla’s mother and siblings had already been killed?
She lifted her hand toward the door, but the fear of walking in and finding another body on the floor—her aunt’s body—froze her in place. And what if some greater threat lingered? Should she call Vorik to walk in with her?
No. As she’d just been thinking, she couldn’t depend on him. She needed to continue forward on her own.
By the road, Agrevlari grunted and rose to all fours. His nostrils flexed as his head went up.
Are there sheep in this area? Delicious sheep with meat soft and juicy from a life of ease, never having had to flee predators?
Syla tightened her jaw at the thought of Vorik’s dragon—ofanydragons—taking advantage of the shield being down to raid pastures around the island. But that had been their whole plan, hadn’t it? To destroy the shielders and devour that which her people maintained. Vorik’s eating of the pear took on a more sinister connotation for her, reminding her that he and his people had attacked so that they could plunder.
If Vorik answered the dragon, she didn’t hear the response in her mind. After a few more sniffs of the air, the creature sprang into the air and flew in the direction where she knew pastures lay. She wanted to object but didn’t. If workers were in hiding, they would be more likely to come out if the dragon was gone.
Syla called a soft, “Hello?” and pushed the door farther open.
A creak came from the back of the house, and the hair stood up on the back of her neck.
“Aunt Tibby?” She kept her calls soft, doubting her relative was the one skulking around. “Is that you?”
Syla took a couple of steps inside, the front room dim thanks to shutters covering the windows, and she eyed the floor betweenthe sofas and chairs, still worried about bodies. And also the feeling that she was being watched. The farmhouse had been used by numerous generations over the years, and the hodgepodge of furnishings filling the living area offered numerous hiding spots.
Another creak came from the kitchen just visible through a doorway at the back of the room. It sounded like someone’s weight shifting on a wooden floorboard.
A soft thump from the porch behind made her jump and spin around. Vorik stood on the steps, pears and apples gathered in his tunic as he fished in his hip pocket with one hand. He’d sheathed his sword behind his shoulder and looked more like a shopper visiting the produce market than a fearsome dragon rider.
“How much do these items cost?” Vorik retrieved silver coins from his pocket and laid a couple on the porch railing. “I gather these trees are tended and that the delicious fruits don’t grow wild.”
“I…” Syla didn’t know what to say.
His people had attacked the capital and left bodies everywhere, and he thought someone would be worried about being paid for produce? This farm didn’t even sell at the market; its food was used to feed the royal family and castle soldiers and staff.
Vorik cocked his head, studying her in a look of earnest inquiry.
“I pay a copper a pear at the market.” Syla spread a helpless arm and pointed toward the kitchen, tempted to ask him to check it out, but if a worker spotted him before her, the person might attack.
Vorik nodded and added another silver coin to the railing. “And how much for a… I believe Agrevlari is singling out a sheep.”
