I hate meeting the Dróttning’s guards on horseback. If I were on Tindera, they’d show me the proper respect.
“Fools,” I spit at them. “You’re wasting my time. I’m on the Dróttning’s business, searching for the prisoner and the traitor who helped her escape. I found this horse north of here”—beckoning with a dismissive wave of my hand—“and have been leading the old nag around for hours, hoping she might give me a clue about her master.”
“How do we know you’re not in league with them?” The larger guard is holding his ground, even as the other one tugs on his reins to pull his horse away from me.
He’s brave. I’ll give him that. Better men than him have withered under my gaze. But the last thing I need right now is a guard trying to make a name for himself. Tossing my hood back, I sneer at him. “Do you know who I am?” I demand, my words brittle.
He watches me for a moment before his eyes widen. “You ride Tindera.”
“I do.” I let the words sit between us.
“Where is your mount?” he asks after a few seconds of silence.
Fucker. Now I wish I could kill the inquisitive bastard. I let my anger twist my features and snarl out the next words. “If you truly are the Dróttning’s guards, you know those who ride horses do not challenge dragon riders. Ever.”
The big guy doesn’t like my attitude, but I don’t give a fuck. He’s a peon. He doesn’t get to question me. I don’t really want to kill them, but I will if that’s what it takes to protect Sifa and Astarot.
“Apologies, dragon rider,” the smaller guard offers. “Shall we aid you in your search? We were just about to follow the footsteps in that direction.” He lifts his hand and points his finger almost directly toward the cave holding Sifa and Astarot. Fuck.
“Is everyone in this Nest as simple as you two?” I bark at them, letting my frustration show. “Those footsteps are mine. I already looked there.” Now it’s my turn to point. “Go north,” I tell them. “Scour the forest between here and the Nest.”
The large guard isn’t ready to give up yet, though. I watch his chest puff up as he prepares himself to challenge me. “We must search that area before we leave. The footsteps lead there.”
“Of course they fucking do,” I explode, “because I made them when I searched that area.” Nudging Sigurd, I stalk forward, straightening my back so he’ll be forced to look up. “My dragon recovers from an injury. But she’ll be well soon. Shall I tell her you angered me?”
That does the trick. The guard swallows as his head spins to look in the direction I pointed. He nods then turns back to me. “We will head north as you wish,” he concedes. “Good luck in your searches.”
“For the Dróttning,” I intone, inclining my head slightly. They’d expect the standard salutation if I were on the Dróttning’s business.
“For the Dróttning,” they respond.
I watch them for a few minutes before resigning myself to following. I want to go back to Sifa and Astarot. Convince them I didn’t betray their trust. Make sure Sifa knows she could be a troll and I’d still want her in my bed. But that would be even worse than leading the guards here the first time. I need to confirm they’re truly gone before I even consider following Sifa into the trees.
The forest is too quiet around me, even the animals holding back their chatter. Sigurd and Hilde play their part, their hooves barely disturbing the ground beneath us as we sneak after the guards. Only my thoughts, dark and angry, disturb my reverie.
Twice, I let myself get close to the guards, their bitter chatter breaking through the silence around me. The large guard is offended, more frustrated than he should be. I wonder if he came from a powerful family but was passed over as a hatchling candidate. He acts like someone who has wielded authority in his life. Being forced to ride horses when you crave the bond with a dragon has turned many a human bitter and cruel.
After two hours of trailing them, I’m comfortable they won’t turn around. They’re still complaining about me but say nothing to suggest they’ll disobey my command that they travel north. So I let them go, turning the horses to retrace our steps. And find Sifa.
I can’t leave while this accusation hangs between us. I need her to understand. To believe me. And then I’ll disappear from her life, let her find safety with her dragon.
I let my thoughts run free for the first few hours, imagining a life with my little rabbit. Another world, where elves roam freely and we don’t have to run away from our mating bond. Where dragons choose their riders and their mates.
Where the Dróttning doesn’t exist.
I almost can see it. The land we’d claim to give Tindera and Astarot all the fields and streams and mountains they could want. And goats. Lots of goats for Tindera. She’s always loved a fat goat.
Toffer’s probably with us. Sifa’s attachment to the troll grates on me, but I won’t stand between them. We’ll bring along the cat and any other strays Sifa may find. Because that’s who she is, and I wouldn’t change any part of her.
We’re on our dragons returning from some trip or another and Sifa turns to smile at me as she catches sight of our home, the sun filtering through the trees to cast it in dancing shadows. Our children emerge as the dragons touch down, running toward us while Toffer watches from the door. They take after their mother, lucky bastards, nearly as beautiful as her.
My little rabbit takes them in her arms and then looks back at me, her eyes bright with love.
My savage is soothed, content for the first time in my long life.
But it’s just a dream. I shake my head, breaking out of the fantasy I’ve wallowed in for too long.
I’m going to Sifa because I can’t let her believe I would betray her. I need her to know I’m committed to her safety. Even though we can’t be together. Because that hasn’t changed. I would never ask Tindera to make the sacrifice it would require. Especially now that she’s found Astarot. I won’t exchange my suffering for hers.
