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'Believe me when I say it was not easy,' Fyia continued, 'but I knew, with unwavering certainty, I was doing what was right. I know I can give my people a better life, even without the dragons, but I also know I can find the dragons, and when I do, I can do so much more.'
'How do you know?' said Cal, shifting in his chair, hanging on her words.
She leaned back. 'Show me your egg, and I will tell you.' Question time was over.
Cal sat bolt upright in his bed, the memory of Fyia's scent in his lungs. When she'd risen from her chair to leave the hall, he'd stood also, the movement putting them closer together than was comfortable.
He hadn't used the Cruaxee-touch on purpose, but he'd smelled her scent of wild roses and cut grass, and it was like his bear had been curious … wanted to find out more about the woman he'd bonded her to.
Cal had inhaled deeply, the smell enhanced a thousand-fold by his bear's superior sense of smell. It had been all he could do to hold himself together … he'd had to leave, and now the smell invaded his dreams, robbing him of sleep for the third night in a row.
Images of Fyia kept flashing across his mind. The stubborn set of her jaw, the regal way she held herself, despite her middling stature, the sun shimmering off her dark hair, the light of curiosity in her azure eyes. He'd believed her when she said she wanted the best for her people, but Cal wanted the best for his people too, and he wasn’t convinced that meant allying with the foreign Queen.
Fyia wanted to tear the world down, and he didn't doubt she could do it, but was she capable of building it back up again? She seemed convinced the dragons would return, but … why? Cal had once dreamed of being the one to find the dragons, but when he'd won the battle for his kingdom, more important matters had possessed his every waking thought, chasing the childish notion from his mind.
He worried about how to feed his people when their lands were growing colder by the season. How to hold his people together in the face of such a threat … Eventually, they would have no choice but to migrate or starve. If they allied with Fyia, perhaps the Black Hoods could go to her lands, but her people would not like it … there would be bloodshed and hardship.
Cal threw back the furs covering his naked body, dressed quickly, then headed for the library. He had always buried himself in books when he couldn’t sleep, combing for inspiration, or answers, or any kind of diversion from whatever unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind.
Chapter Twelve
FYIA PATTED HER WOLVESas she returned to Anvarn, pulling on the boots she'd stashed in a hollow. She'd needed to run, to reconnect with the wild after three frustrating days of learning from the King. Or in fact, not learning, for it seemed he knew little more than she.
She wanted to avoid discovery, either by the Black Hoods, or by her own guards, who by now had probably realized she was missing. She watched, ensuring the place was devoid of life before sneaking back to the tavern.
She was about to make a dash for it across the town square, when her wolves alerted her to a movement in the shadows. She watched as the cloaked figure moved towards the library, then as they quickly climbed the steps and ducked inside.
Fyia moved without conscious thought. Whatever they were doing, they didn't want to be spotted, which meant whatever they were doing, it was certainly worth investigating.
She paused when she reached the building's threshold and listened for movement. She heard the dull thud of footsteps off to the right, near the wall.
Fyia snuck around the edge of the room, keeping to the shadows of the stacks until she came across a wrought-iron railing that disappeared into the floor. She hadn't seen it earlier, set back against the wall as it was, and she hadn't had time to explore.
She barely hesitated before descending the steep, circular steps, trying not to make a sound. Her wolves had to stay at the top, the stairs too steep, and their claws too loud, and they whined at her through the bond.Oh, hush, she thought, trying to concentrate, and they quieted down, straining their ears for any sound.
Fyia reached the bottom, glad to find it warm, for she hadn't bothered to take a cloak on her run. She waited for her eyes to adjust, then spotted a blueish light up ahead, although she had no idea what it could be.
She moved cautiously forward, careful where she placed each footstep. She noted the shelves of books stopped as she got closer to the light, which seemed to come from the floor.
'What are you doing here?' said a familiar voice from behind her. She jumped and spun around, Cal's face mostly hidden in shadow.
'I was out for a run. I saw someone come in here … I didn't know it was you …'
'Well, now you've satisfied your curiosity, you can leave,' he said, striding towards the light.
Fyia followed. 'I haven't actually,' she said. 'Oh …' Cal stopped by a small pool of water, the light a reflection of the moon, which shone through a hole in the ceiling. The pool was a raised structure made of stone, with copper pipes attached to two sides.
'There's a hot spring here,' said Fyia. It explained why the library was so warm.
'Yes,' said Cal. 'Are you done now?'
'Do you use it to heat other buildings?'
'No.'
'Why?'
'I came here for peace and quiet.'
