Soap. Mouth rinse. An herbal lotion.
“Nice try,” Lucien murmurs. He hefts the lotion jar in his palm. It would make a decent weapon. Good heft to it. He could throw one at a drasgard’s face, keeping one in hand to bludgeon his opponent with.
The strategy is obvious. Rough him up, then provide some small comforts. The technique could use some work. In Kazia’s place, Lucien would have made sure his prisoner knew he was sending the luxuries. A slight error in judgment.
Or is it an error?
Lucien frowns down at the lotion. Kazia’s focus at lunch hints at a far more calculating mind than his chaotic reputation describes.
But Lucien also remembers Kazia fidgeting. The occasional subtle retreat before Lucien’s verbal prodding.
Lucien unscrews the jar, the movement tugging at his cracked hands. Rubbing in the lotion hurts until the medicated cream soaks into his dry skin.
The collar appears perfect. So is the earring sealing his magic. There’s only one weak link in Lucien’s imprisonment—the young man who controls it.
A voice jumps into his head so suddenly, he drops the jar.
This isn’t how I intended that to go.
It’s the same voice Lucien heard the day he was captured. The young dragon who called Pranim an old wyrm. Heart racing, Lucien crouches to scrape up the spilled ointment.
“How did you intend it to go?” Lucien asks, keeping his voice down. He can’t mind-speak with a dragon he isn’t bonded to, but speaking out loud should focus his thoughts better.
Whether or not the dragon will hear him is up to her own ability. Dragon talents vary, just like humans and fellcats.
I wanted to ask Pranim what life was like across the border. Are there mountains to slide down and rivers to splash in? Are there new forests I’ve never seen?
The wistfulness beneath her thoughts calls an answering emotion from Lucien. He sits on the floor.
Then I wanted to talk to you,the dragon says.Because you feel new. I’ve spoken to Pranim before. I feel like I’m supposed to talk to you.
Lucien leans against the wall, torn between excitement and disappointed. That fated feeling. That newness. Lucien has never heard a dragon’s voice from so far away before. Every dragonbond is different, but that has to be what this is.
And the bond is doomed to fade if Lucien remains trapped.
“What’s your name?” Lucien asks.
She continues, unable to hear him.This war is stupid, just like the last one. I don’t want to live across the border like Pranim and Sarka. I just want to visit, then return to my nest.
Lucien tilts his head back. “It’s not that simple.”
Talking to you is stupid too. You must be bad at mind-speech—I can’t hear you at all.Her next thought is smug.I am very good at mind-speech.
Like Lucien expected. Doomed to fade away. It’s a shame. He would have liked to hear more about her travels.
You can hear me, though. The other humans in the mountain can’t hear me. I will return soon. Or after-soon.
Only then does her voice slip from Lucien’s mind, leaving him alone again.
His entire adult life, Lucien has wanted a dragonbond. As an abstraction at first. Strategy. Draskoran dragons were a threat, so Lucien wanted dragons for Silaise. Bonding to a dragon makes riding easier, so Lucien wanted that too.
Fucking figures that a dream come true would drag Lucien across the border and land him in chains. He doesn’t even know her name.
Not that it matters whether Lucien feels the tentative new bond. The bond may not even take—according to Rakos, the initial pull is more a possibility than anything else. They have to communicate, working together, to strengthen it.
Impossible for now, because Lucien’s dragon is out there, and Lucien is trapped in here.
?
