Page 51 of A Matter of Dragons

I grinned. Peya’s bitchy personality never failed to raise my spirits. I raised my hand to scratch the little mare behind her ears, and something tucked into the shadows bordering the meadow caught my eye. Something shiny.

I walked closer, desperately hoping it was one of Olovan’s saddlebags while also knowing better. His Majesty’s Royal Army wouldn’t leave their equipment out in plain sight. No, Olovan’s gear would be camouflaged somewhere clever, maybe even near wherever Eadberh had hidden our supplies. I hadn’t bothered to ask him where he’d stashed our spare clothes and weapons; I’d been so certain he would come back down the mountain with me. If either of us lived to come back down the mountain at all, that was.

No, it was no saddlebag and no box of Royal Army supplies. It was a plain leather bag leaning rather obviously against the pale trunk of an aspen tree. And besides the bag there was a sword. It was a small weapon, almost delicate, with a flashy silver hilt that had caught my eye from all the way across the meadow.

No. Not subtle at all. I frowned at the little bag and the sword, so obviously out of place. There was something decidedly feminine about the sword’s silver hilt, something that made me almost positive it hadn’t come from Olovan’s band of idiots. But if Olovan hadn’t left it here—

I remembered the sound of wingbeats above the trees, the way I’d frozen in the shadows until they’d stopped. The way I’d wondered if he had been looking for me.

I bit my lip so hard it hurt. Doshir. Damn Doshir. He’d come back last night, he’d flown up the mountain, stopped, and then returned to Cairncliff. I’d wondered if he’d been hunting me or off on some inscrutable draconic errand of his own.

But this? A sword and a bag? My eyes stung and my vision blurred. I brought my palms to my face, pressed hard against the sudden, inexplicable rush of hot tears, and then forced myself to breathe slowly until the feeling had passed.

I lowered my hands and tried to think. Why would a dragon leave a sword for me? It might be a trap, of course, but— I walked around the tree once, then twice, examining the little sword and bag from every angle. The bag was simple but exquisitely made, with fine stitching and what looked like dozens of latched compartments. Some part of my mind insisted on noting that it looked like a damned useful thing to have. And it did not appear to be a trap. At all. I shivered and rubbed my hands together. The sky had gone from pitch to dusky gray, but the warmth of the sun was still a long way off.

Fuck it, I decided. I stepped forward, grabbed the sword, and flung open the bag.

Inside was a small parcel wrapped in cheesecloth and, beneath that, neatly folded dark fabric. I unwrapped the cheesecloth first and found an apple, a piece of hard cheese, two small seed rolls, and, good kings above, was that chocolate?

It was. It was a bar of chocolate. It might have been poisoned, and I did not care one bit. I ate the entire bar, almost groaning in appreciation, and then I ate the sweet red apple, the sharp cheese, and both seed rolls. By the time I’d finished, the sky was streaked with pink and I almost felt human again.

I set the cheesecloth aside, reached into the bag, and pulled out the fabric. They were clothes, a simple, soft, well-made tunic, brown, and a pair of trousers so dark green they were almost black.

They had to be Doshir’s clothes. I raised the shirt to my face and inhaled. Yes, the soft fabric held a trace of his rich, wild scent. Memories rushed back, his smile, his kiss, his fingers on the inside of my thigh, the way I’d been so achingly desperate for him, for all of him.

“Kings,” I cursed, clenching my jaw.

I threw the damn shirt on the ground. Why would he do this? Why give me his shirt? Was this some sort of subtle torture?

Or, another part of my mind suggested, did he bring me clothes because I’m naked?

I growled and came to my feet. The clothes Doshir had given me sat in a wrinkled pile on the wet grass. Blessed kings, he’d even given me clothes that I liked. Subtle, functional, and comfortable, just the thing to wear when you’re traveling through the woods.

Why hadn’t he given me something of his wife’s, damn it? Why not a stupid dress with a narrow waistline and a tight bust? If he’d gone to the trouble of cursing me, or whatever he’d done to make me fireproof so that he could pretend I was a dragon, then why not dress me up as well?

But why, that nagging part of my mind insisted. Why would he have cursed me? I bit my lip and looked down at my mangled, scarred hand. Clearly, I hadn’t been fireproof as a baby. Here was the evidence, etched in twisted lines on my skin, scarlet and snowy white scars from the fire that had killed my family.

Still, something cold traced its way up the back of my neck. I couldn’t remember that fire. I couldn’t remember anything about my family or my life before the Royal Army. I’d spent my childhood in the barracks; there had never been a time when I hadn’t been training to serve His Highness. I remembered staring into cook fires in the mess hall as a child, trying to remember the fire that had scarred my arm and left me in an orphanage. I’d even reached for candles, put my fingers in the flames, trying to reawaken something, anything, any shards of memory or sensation that would unlock the mystery of my parents. But I couldn’t remember being burned, not even once in all those childhood experiments.

I ran my fingers lightly across the scarlet folds of my scarred wrist, and my former trainer Alva’s voice rose from some deep recess of my mind. Don’t dwell on it, he’d said, in his typical, brusque fashion. That was his answer to all the questions I’d asked about my scars, my origins, how I’d ended up in the orphanage I could scarcely remember and then in the barracks. Don’t dwell on the past.

Peya’s big, blocky head butted into my arm, knocking me out of my ruminations. I scratched her behind her ears and glared at the pile of clothes. Fine, I’d wear stupid Doshir’s stupid gift, but only because I was naked and cold and uncomfortable and I literally had no other option.

But as soon as I got back to Cairncliff, I was going to burn them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Rayne

I squinted at the sign above the door. The enormous crutch swung in the morning breeze. Kings, my head throbbed, and the bright morning sunshine felt like it was burning right through my eyeballs to scorch the back of my skull. I’d dragged myself into Cairncliff late yesterday afternoon, sore, filthy, and utterly exhausted, and re-booked our room at the Master and Mistress. Then I’d ordered a hot bath and two bottles of wine and promptly drunk myself stupid while the bathwater went cold around me.

A pack of children ran across the street, shrieking and laughing, and I winced at the noise. My mouth felt like something had tried to claw its way out of my gut, given up halfway, and died back there. Kings. I didn’t usually drink that much, but fuck it, I’d earned those two bottles.

And I was paying for it now. I sighed, spat on the cobblestones, and tried to pull myself together. I’d wanted to come here last night, but I figured it would be better to be sober. And some part of me didn’t want to come here at all. Some part of me wanted to take Peya and the bag of gold and run as far from Cairncliff as my bitchy mare’s stubby little legs could take me. Because I didn’t know what I was going to find inside these doors. Would Eadberh walk again? Would he wake up again? Was he even here?

I swallowed hard as the sour reminder of last night’s red wine rose in the back of my throat. Being brave isn’t about not being scared, my old trainer Alva used to say. It’s about doing what needs to be done no matter how you feel.

Breathing deep, I took two steps forward and pushed open the door. Ailen the healer’s shop was blessedly dark, and it smelled like honey and herbs. I remembered the row of crystals in the windows, the bundles of flowers against the back wall, and the small woman with her wild shock of pale hair who turned to look at me. Her expression shifted to something solemn the moment our eyes met, and my heart fell into my twisting guts.