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The healers bowed and shepherded us to the infirmary, where they tended to the panthers and me, examining our wounds, asking us questions. Satisfied with their assessment, the healers split up for different tasks—grinding up a gray paste that smelled like vinegar in a bowl, collecting bandages, pins, washbowls, and cloths, and rinsing our wounds. Then we were all smothered in the acrid paste, stitched up with black twine if our gashes were deep, and bandaged.
“Thanks,” Phantom said to his healer, admiring his skin, which was dotted with crosses and blobs of gray.
The pretty nurse blushed, bowed, and withdrew from the room.
A flash of jealousy pumped through me as Phantom watched her leave.
“In fire we thrive,” he said, reading the dragon’s motto aloud. “In water we cleanse. In earth we prosper. In metal we forge. In air we rise above.”
I felt stupid when I realized he’d been reading the ancient dragon text on the wall ahead of us. “You read dragon?” I’d only learned a little.
“My father taught me when I was eight,” he said. “He taught me all the ancient languages.”
Five dialects? For someone as young as I was, Phantom was full of surprises, his knowledge of all things historical never ceasing to amaze me.
“You’re astounding,” I said, brushing the blanket on my bed.
He lifted his arms, highlighting his sleek, toned muscles as he rested his head in his hands. “I know,” he said with a smile.
“Snow?” Shadow called out to me.
“Yes,” I said, glancing over at the other two panthers.
From the next bed, Flare twitched his chest muscles, enjoying taunting the healer who bathed him. The poor girl went bright red, trying not to stare at his well-proportioned torso. Even I had a hard time looking away. When he caught me ogling, he smiled that cocky grin and flexed again.
Phantom chuckled beside me, showing off his own muscles, enjoying the company of the older panther. I wasn’t sure I liked the influence of Flare rubbing off on Phantom. Especially when it sometimes turned into a bit of a boys’ club, and I felt left out of it because I didn’t have a cock.
“Snow.” Shadow repeated my name with more insistency.
“Hold on, Mr. Serious,” Flare told him. “Sweetheart’s enjoying the show.”
This was too much for the poor healer, who must have thought he referred to her, and she scurried from the room. Both Flare and Phantom cackled like teenage boys who had played a prank on someone. Lips twitching with a smile, I threw a pillow at Flare, making him laugh even harder.
Shadow’s bed creaked as he lifted himself from it, coming to sit with me. “Guys, this is serious.” His voice was low and intense. “Did any of you pick up a strange scent in the throne room?”
“You mean the king’s breath?” Flare covered his nose, continuing his comedic act. “What’s he been eating? Onions?”
Phantom encouraged Flare again by giving him a supportive laugh.
“Tell him that to his face,” I dared the shifter. “You won’t live much longer.”
Flare sniffed in the air, as if he weren’t frightened.
“You finished?” Shadow said with a sneer.
Oh, Shadow. Always so serious and stern. He needed to learn to lighten up a little. Otherwise, he’d end up an old grouch like Grimm.
Shadow shut Flare down before he could offer another smart reply.
“I picked up the scent of another hunter,” Shadow said.
An icy shiver wormed up my spine.Flipping hell.Not another hunter. How did they get in here? Guards were situated at every corner. Dragons weren’t known for their sense of smell, but their keen eyesight and ability to sense shifts in temperature made up for what they lacked.
Flare and Phantom exchanged a glance.
“What?” said Flare. “A hunter pissed in the dragon’s backyard?”
Shadow grit his teeth. “Must you talk like that?”
