Page 25 of Dream Reaper

Ava’s attention wavered back to Ponytail Girl.

“Yes, even Halla,” Brynja ground out. “Her family only had one daughter, and their village was struggling to meet their quota this year…so they demanded a daughter from every family.”

Halla shifted and took a step backward, her mouth pinching.

“She’s too young,” Ava protested. “The terms insist the peaceweavers be of marriageable age.”

Her gaze skittered to Brynja, who couldn’t be much older than Halla.

“That age limit gets blurry in action,” Brynja said bitterly. “We have four girls below the age limit and half a dozen others that are questionably close. But no one complained. Not one elf in Gelaira complained when they showed up. They just divvied them up among their suitors and called it a good day.”

Ava swallowed the lump in her throat. It wasn’t her fault. She had nothing to do with the treaty or the peaceweavers who came to Gelaira to satisfy the terms. And yet…

“I’m sorry.”

Brynja’s face darkened, mottling an unpleasant shade.

“You’re sorry. Good news, girls,” she called over her shoulder to the others. “She’s sorry. If you are so sorry, where were you when Halla was handed off to an elf ten years her senior? And Saldis? And Runi?”

“I’m s-sorry. I’m not— I didn’t— I’m just a healer.”

Jerrid angled himself forward, pressing closer to her side. “She said she was sorry. And she has nothing to do with this anyway, which means you’re guilting her out of an apology she doesn’t even owe you.”

Something inside her twinged as he came to her defense. Against his own people. Was his mission to return her to Eroth so important to him that he would pit himself against his own?

“She’s one of them,” Halla cried out. “She didn’t do anything to stop this, so she’s just as guilty as the ones who signed the treaty.”

Jerrid jerked toward the sound of the girl’s voice, the skin whitening around his compressed lips. “No. No, she isn’t. Nobody asked her what the terms of the treaty should be any more than they asked you. The people at the top decided that. Ava—this girl right here—had nothing to do with that.”

His hand shifted to press against the small of her back, and a shiver went down her spine. Why was he standing up for her? He had to despise her people and the terms of the treaty as much as the rest of them did.

The silence stretched uncomfortably long.

“Well, this has been fun,” Finnr said, clapping his hands and startling everyone, including Ava. “But I think someone said something about an injured dragon. Shouldn’t we be seeing to that?”

“If there even is an injured dragon,” Brynja muttered. “I don’t want anyone going out there and risking their lives at the word of this elf.”

“You’re not doing it at her word,” Jerrid said quietly. “You’re doing it at mine. Look at me.”

Brynja rolled her eyes in his direction. “What? Am I a toddler or something?”

“No. I mean, look at me. Really look at me, lass.” Jerrid stepped away from Ava and slowly spread his arms to the sides.

Brynja narrowed her eyes as he turned in a slow circle. Ava wondered what he was trying to accomplish by showing off his muscular form. One glance showed that he fit his uniform perfectly.

Every woman here could see that.

The brown and crimson leathers hugged his muscles in all the right places…

Oh.

Heat infused her cheeks. The uniform. This was about the uniform. His dragon rider uniform.

“He’s a dragon rider,” she said out loud, verbalizing her understanding of the situation for anyone who may not have yet caught on. “He’s a dragon rider. Of course he has a dragon.”

“Aye. I’m with the Hyrrím. And I have a dragon, and she’s out there, alone in the woods, and she’s hurt. We need those medical supplies.”

“And we need to protect our village,” Brynja fired back. “Fine. You and I can take some supplies and go find out if this dragon really does exist, but the elf stays here⁠—”