Page 43 of A Matter of Dragons

Eadberh screamed again, and this time it was higher and sharper, as though his exhalation had been hammered into the shape of a blade. His next breath was jagged, almost a sob. I drove my shoulder into Carlton’s chest, pushing him back. Eadberh’s face was contorted in agony. Niglan’s flaming torch cast wild shadows over Eadberh’s agony, turning his features into a carved wooden mask. A funeral mask.

I pushed forward. Eadberh had half-collapsed on the forest floor; one leg folded beneath him, while the other lay propped against... something metallic. The air was thick with blood and a pulsing, spattering sound.

My stomach rolled. Something bitter rose in my throat. The wet splattering sound was blood, I realized with a hot rush of disgust. Blood spurting from Eadberh’s leg. From the sword currently impaling Eadberh’s thigh.

The ground shifted beneath me and my head felt light. I’d seen battlefield injuries before, but for some reason, my mind was numb and stupid right now. It refused to accept this was Eadberh, this was my friend Eadberh, this was Eadberh’s lifeblood pulsing onto the pine needles and coating the blade of a sword from King Donovan’s Royal Armory.

“Move out!” Niglan called from somewhere above me.

I turned toward his voice. My eyes met Niglan’s. Then, his movements slow and deliberate, Captain Niglan Olovan of His Majesty’s Royal Army turned his hand and dropped his torch. It fell to the pine duff at his feet. He stepped back.

For a moment, nothing happened. The torch burned in its nest of dry pine needles. Eadberh’s breath came in short, pleading sobs; I was dimly aware of movement around me, of the dozen soldiers pulling back, following Niglan out of the pine grove. Then, almost lazily, as though it had all the time in the world, the torch’s fire began to grow. I stared with horrified fascination as handfuls of pine needles began to blaze like tiny suns.

Eadberh screamed again, an agonized wail that ended in a low, horrific gurgle. I tore my eyes off the swelling fire at my feet and saw Eadberh slouch forward, falling almost beautifully to the forest floor. Behind him, a man I recognized as Bain grimaced at the blade he’d just pulled from my friend’s leg as though Eadberh’s blood had somehow sullied his fine weapon.

Rage exploded in my chest. I leaped forward, my blade outstretched. A flicker of motion caught my eye as I moved against the man holding the bloody sword, the sword that had just come out of my best friend’s thigh. Too late, I recognized the shadow of Carlton’s armored hand.

Then Carlton’s fist met my skull, and the world went black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Doshir

My mind spun like a waterwheel as my wings beat the sky. Why would two young, strong, well-trained, wealthy humans from Valgros come to Cairncliff? And why, for the love of the Mothers, would they search out Mad Scarlett? My wings stretched and screamed in protest, unused to this much sudden, strenuous exercise, and my chest roared with barely-contained fire. Rayne had asked about dragons last night but, Mothers help me, I’d thought she was flirting with me.

No, I told myself, as a bitter taste swelled behind my jagged teeth, I hadn’t thought at all. My mind had completely stopped at the swell of Rayne's chest, the curl of her full lips. I hadn’t thought to wonder why a human woman with obvious martial training would leave the most secretive kingdom in the realm and end up in my shop.

I growled into the rush of night air. Not just my shop. She’d ended up in my arms, all sweet curves and frost wine lips, and all I’d thought was how fortune had finally smiled upon me again.

Mothers. I was such a fool. Generations ago, I’d bedded dozens of women in Cairncliff, and a few gentlemen too. They’d practically thrown themselves at me, humans and elves and even a few dwarves, as soon as I’d left the Iron Mountains behind and moved in with my father. I’d just assumed I was witty and charming, irresistible to humans in a way I’d never been to my fellow dragons. Until my father finally told me what a badge of honor it was in Cairncliff’s social circles to fuck a dragon. I suspected my father had started that particular badge of honor himself; he’d certainly seemed proud of it.

But the revelation had crushed me. My roaring love life in Cairncliff had never been about my charm or my dashing good looks. It was never about me, Doshir the disappointment, with his stupid little shop and boring old stories. All I’d ever been for my partners was a means to an end, a way to impress their friends with their exploits. Just like Wendolyn with her shimmering emerald scales, who’d only partnered with me in the hopes that my idiotic hatching prophecy would somehow make her a queen.

My fire burned in my chest until my ribcage ached and my eyes stung. Mothers help me, I was an idiot. Rayne had been after information, just like Vil. She’d even used the same methods. And I’d been stupid enough to fall right into her trap with my big, open mouth, blabbing everything I knew about Mad Scarlett’s cave in the Knife’s Edge mountains, about hatching prophecies and shapeshifting. Stars help me, I’d even told her about my own hatching prophecy, one of the many horrid aspects of this horrid form. A shiver ran the length of my scales, from snout to tail, and my claws shuddered. And here I was again, rushing off toward the woman who’d manipulated me with her curves and smiles like the realm’s biggest idiot.

I shook my head slightly, twisting in midair. This wasn’t about Rayne. This was about Mad Scarlett. It was about the problem my mother had asked me to solve weeks ago, the problem I’d been steadfastly ignoring, and what an insane dragon might do to two bumbling humans from Valgros. This was about—

Smoke. I turned my head toward the scent. In this form, the various and sundry smells of Cairncliff were almost overwhelming, but this whiff of smoke hadn’t come from the city. This was burning pine needles, a forest fire smoke, just like the blazes Mad Scarlett had lit last night.

There. Now I could see it, a winking pinprick of light from the pines just below Scarlett’s cave. The predator eyes of my dragon form caught motion in the scrub-filled gully above the fire, although I was still too far away to make out the figures.

And there was blood. My nostrils flared. To smell blood at this distance, through the screen of smoke, meant serious injury. Maybe even death. Something in my gut tightened, and I pushed my wings harder, ignoring the scream of muscles that were far more used to leisurely glides along the coast than frantic climbs through the gusting, uncertain air swirling around the mountains.

I pulled closer to the place where the fire was spreading, slowly licking up pine trunks. Last night I’d told myself Mad Scarlett wasn’t crazy enough to set fires at her own doorstep but was that true? The dragon I’d seen curled on the forest floor last night hadn’t exactly been a picture of mental stability.

Another whiff of blood floated past my nostrils, carried on a downdraft. I snarled; it smelled human. Rayne's bright eyes flashed through my mind, followed by the curve of her chest, and the tight, high gasp she’d made last night when my hand had found the spot between her legs where—

Mothers. Enough. I pressed my jaw together and tucked my wings in tight, aiming for the flames. I began to shift as soon as my wings brushed the tops of the pines and, by the time my feet touched the ground, I was in my human form again. Naked, unfortunately, but that couldn’t be helped.

I narrowed my eyes at the fire. It looked like it had spread from a dropped torch to lick at the base of a half dozen trees. There were two figures sprawled out across the pine duff on the far side of the flames, one of them reeking so strongly of blood that it was almost overpowering, even as a human. I could only imagine how many wolves that scent would draw to the forest. The second figure, the smaller figure, groaned.

My heart tugged at my chest as though it wanted to pull me forward. I couldn’t have recognized her by her groan; that was stupid, improbable bullshit. But still, I knew even before I’d sprinted across the clearing that I’d find Rayne.

She groaned again. I sank to my knees before her, horribly aware of my own nakedness. Mothers damn it, I could have at least taken off my jacket before flying out here. I could have brought something to wear.

I reached down and pressed the back of my fingers against Rayne's cheek. Her skin was cool; an enormous red welt rose on the left side of her face, stretching from her split lip to her bruised temple. For a heartbeat, rage clouded my vision. If her companion had done this to her, I’d rip him apart with my claws. I’d eat his very heart.

Her eyes fluttered.