Page 52 of A Matter of Dragons

“Is— is my, um, brother here?” I whispered.

Ailen nodded. She walked over to me, then tilted her head at a door in the back of her shop. “His stars were watching him,” she said, her tone low and serious. “He made it through the night. He’s awake now, if you’d like to see him, but I can’t let you stay long.”

I nodded. My mouth felt dry. “Is he going to be, uh, okay?” I asked in a strangled, awkward mumble.

Ailen tilted her head and looked at me. I was suddenly reminded of her disapproval when I’d admitted that I didn’t know my birthday.

“Too early to say,” she finally said. “He made it through the night, and that’s something. The wound doesn’t appear to be infected, so that’s in his favor. But—”

She shrugged as her voice drifted off. My stomach rippled unpleasantly, churning what was left of the biscuits I’d choked down this morning in a vain attempt to soak up the wine still sloshing through my system.

“And his leg?” I whispered. “If he makes it, I mean. Will his leg recover?”

Ailen snorted something that sounded almost like a laugh. Then she pushed the far door open and went through. I hesitated, rocking forward on the balls of my feet. As long as I’d known Eadberh, he’d been the ideal soldier. Strong, agile, ferocious in a fight, and loyal to the crown. But without his leg? Kings, would he end up on the streets, just another crippled beggar? Ailen’s head appeared in the doorway.

“You want to see him or not?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.

I followed. The door led to a narrow hallway. Eadberh was in a room at the end with two windows overlooking a small herb garden. The ocean breeze puffed the cheerful yellow curtains beside his bed. It looked almost like a home, I realized disjointedly. It did not look at all like a room where people died.

But Eadberh looked like he was dying. I’d always thought of him as tall and impossibly strong, yet in this bed he looked much smaller, as though he’d been reduced somehow. His left leg stuck out from under a cheerful flower-patterned comforter. It had been wrapped in thick bandages from his thigh to his ankle. His face seemed sunken, and his skin was almost as pale as the pillow beneath his head. His lips twisted when I entered the room; it took me a minute to realize he was trying to smile.

“Rayne,” he whispered. “You made it.”

I forced my mouth to curve into a shape that I desperately hoped looked cheerful. “So did you,” I said. “How about that?”

He sighed, then blinked. It seemed to take a long time for his eyes to open again. I glanced from Eadberh to Ailen. The little healer woman didn’t seem concerned, so I tried not to panic.

“So,” I started, “I, uh, I’ve got Peya and Whiskey. And I’ve got our room back at the Master and Mistress.”

I bit my lip, then cast a sideways glance at Ailen. There was more to say, of course, but I couldn’t exactly talk about our mission in front of a civilian.

“Good,” Eadberh finally said. His voice sounded like the rustle of stacks of parchment.

“So, when you’re ready to go home,” I began.

Eadberh made a little wheezing squeak that was unmistakably a laugh. “Oh, Rayne,” he whispered. “I’m not going back to Valgros.”

“What?” My body went hot, then cold. “But, you’re not going to die!”

Eadberh shook his head against the pale pillowcase. Somewhere outside the open window, a seagull cried.

“No,” Eadberh said. “Not dying. I’m staying here.”

“But—” I glanced back at Ailen, silently begging her to leave.

Ailen made a strange little harrumphing sound in the back of her throat. Then, as though she could read my mind, she gave a curt nod and backed out of the room.

“I’ll give you a minute,” she said, looking me right in the eyes. I got the distinct feeling she meant to give me exactly one minute of privacy with Eadberh.

The door closed, and I practically threw myself across the room. I grabbed Eadberh’s hand, which was reassuringly warm and solid.

“But, the mission,” I said, sounding breathless. “We did it, Eadberh. The dragon is— She’s gone. The Town Council meets this afternoon. I’m going to go to their meeting, I’ll tell them the dragon’s gone, tell them it’s all thanks to King Donovan, and then we’ve done it. We’ve gotten rid of the dragon, we’ve spread the glory of Valgros. We can go home.”

Eadberh laughed again. It was a gentle sound, almost a whisper and, for some reason, I was reminded of the beat of wings against the night sky. Wings that had brought me food and clothing and a very nice sword that I’d decided I’d just go ahead and keep.

“Rayne.” Eadberh turned to meet my eyes. He was smiling again, an exhausted sort of grin, and he looked strangely content. “This was a suicide mission. We weren’t supposed to come back.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came. My lips felt like they’d gone numb. The gull cried again, shrill and insistent, its voice filling the little room.