Page 12 of A Matter of Dragons

Her smile widened. I stepped closer, closing the space between us, and offered her my arm. She took it; her hand rested on mine, warm and reassuringly solid. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who hesitated.

“That sounds lovely,” she said.

“So, what do you prefer,” I asked as I steered her toward the Elven District, “the elves, the dwarves, or the dragons?”

“Dragons,” she answered immediately. “Tell me everything.”

My heart fluttered against my ribcage, and for a moment I felt as though I’d swallowed the sun. Oh, yes. I’d take her to the elven inn beside the Spirit Wood, order their frost wine, and then tell this woman everything about dragons.

There is no clear indication that Cairncliff has transitioned from the ramshackle human dwellings to the smaller, more elegant Elven District that lines the Spirit Wood. It’s a subtle transition, easy to overlook. The softening of hard edges on the buildings. The door frames that grow larger and thinner. The buildings are spaced further apart, with more trees between them. And the gardens become wilder, more overgrown with flowers and thorns and small, hidden creatures.

Rayne's hand on my arm tightened as we rounded a corner and the dark bulk of the Spirit Wood loomed before us. Golden light and intricate elven music poured through a circular open door in the building ahead of us. I slowed my pace; of course, this poor woman had never seen anything like this. She was probably entirely overwhelmed.

“That’s Cairncliff’s Spirit Wood,” I said, pointing to the trees beyond the row of buildings in front of us. “It runs through the entire town, like a river. But there’s nothing in there that could harm you.”

“Oh,” she replied, sounding almost entirely unconvinced. “And is this where the... the elves live? I haven’t seen... many of them.”

“This is the Elven District,” I answered. “But very few elves actually live here. Mostly they pass through Cairncliff, complete their business, and go back to their cities.”

“Then what are all these?” she whispered, waving an arm at the buildings around us.

“That’s a baker,” I said, pointing to the left. “A human baker, but she specializes in elven food.” I swung my finger to the next building. “That’s Flynt, the arrow maker. Very fine stuff, almost an art form. Not entirely utilitarian.” Turning, I pointed to the long, lumped row of rounded roofs where a few candles flickered in the circular windows. “And that’s where most of the elves stay if they’re here for longer than a few weeks.”

“And this,” I finished, sweeping my hand toward the circular open door, “is where I thought I would buy you a drink.”

My smile faded when I turned back to Rayne. She was watching the neighborhood through narrowed eyes with one hand on her hip, almost as though she were feeling for the pommel of a sword. I’d hoped a woman from Valgros would be impressed by the Elven District, and maybe even a little grateful to have the chance to see such a thing. Instead, Rayne looked like she was assessing threats.

Well, what was I expecting? King Donovan had to justify his barbaric behavior somehow. She’d probably been taught that elves eat their young, or kidnap and enslave beautiful women. Maybe it was too much to even bring her here. Maybe I should suggest we go back and have a glass of red wine at the Duck and Goose.

“It’s so quiet,” she finally said.

“Well, it’s not the most exciting part of town,” I admitted. “If you want more nightlife, the wharves are the place to go.”

The loud, rough, foul-smelling wharves were my father’s favorite part of town. I hadn’t been there in over a decade. I’d hoped to keep it that way, but perhaps that would have been a better choice for entertaining this lady.

“What’s it like in there?” she whispered, tilting her head toward the open door where a woman had just begun to sing in accompaniment to the music. Her voice rose and fell like tiny silver bells echoing through the darkness. The words sounded like ancient Elvish, something about the war between the seasons and a love lost underground.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Elven interior design is simplistic. Organic. Natural. There are a lot of windows that stay open year-round. Lots of candles.”

Rayne was frowning at the open door in a way that made me think I hadn’t answered her question.

“There will be elves,” I said, trying to guess what someone from Valgros would be worried about. “There’ll be humans too. Maybe even a few dwarves. People don’t come to this part of town to get crazy, though. It’s a pretty quiet place.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and I wondered what part of what I’d just said had answered her unspoken question.

“I’ve never been inside an elven... place,” she said.

“Well, you’ve been missing out,” I answered.

She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Trust me,” I said, leading her toward the open door.

CHAPTER SIX

Rayne

Oh, I could kiss Eadberh for throwing me out of the inn!