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Einar grips my hand, and I don’t breathe for several long moments. Last time, I had wanted the dragon to kill me, but now, I want to live.
I need to live.
There is still so much I need to do, and this creature could mean an agonizing, fiery death.
But...it protected me. I steady my shaking limbs and force myself to face my savior head on.
Its scales shimmer and move, and I realize they aren’t actually invisible. Rather, they’re bending and refracting the light to camouflage the dragon when it doesn’t want to be seen.
Clearly, that isn’t the case now.
It tilts its head and studies us while we stand, still as the stone around us. Khijha’s purrs echo off the cavern walls, drawing the dragon’s attention to her.
She nuzzles the beast and rubs her body along its scales. The dragon sniffs her. My heart races. It could gobble her up in a single bite. But instead, the dragon closes its eyes and gently presses its nose against her head.
I take a step forward, and it whips its head toward me. Einar shoots a hand out to stop me, but I’ve already frozen, awaiting the judgment I know is coming.
Was it a fluke the first time?
But instead of studying me, it glances at Einar instead. There is a crackling in the air as it takes him in. He regards the dragon unflinchingly, and after a moment, the beast...dips its head. Almost as if it is acknowledging him.
My jaw drops, and Einar’s features reflect the same awe and shock coursing through my veins.
I swear, I can sense the moment it decides to let us live.
The tension floods out of the cave as its scales shift, and once again it is nothing but a mirage. Einar visibly sags in relief when the gust of wind from its wingspan whooshes through the cave, and the dragon disappears from view.
Chapter Fifty
Zaina
The ride home has none of the tension of this morning, now that we are both safe and in possession everything we need to cure Einar’s people.
He holds my hand each time the hestrinns need to slow, leaning forward to pepper it with kisses. On one of those occasions, he clears his throat, leaning closer to my ear to speak softly.
“For the first time in a long time, I feel like I would make my family proud instead of destroying the legacy they spent their lives building and upholding.”
I squeeze his hand. Delivering comfort doesn’t come naturally to me, but I can at least tell him something true. “You have worked tirelessly for your people, Einar. Everyone faces tragedy, but it’s how you go from there that defines you. I think they would have been proud every step of the way.”
“Maybe,” he says dubiously. “My father was a kind, steady man, but my mother had a temper. I’m sure there are times she would have wanted to give me a solid tongue-lashing.” There is laughter in his voice, so I smile also.
“At least I know where you get it from now.”
He gasps in mock offense, then I feel him tense behind me.
“Do you remember much about your parents?”
The smile dies from my lips. “No,” I say simply.
He doesn’t offer pity or a platitude. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, like he’s waiting for me to go on. To my immense surprise, I do.
“I only have vague impressions of them. The song I sang for Sigrid. My father’s hands on a chessboard. I don’t remember their names or the village where we lived, though.”
“That makes sense, you were so young when she took you.”
“Six is old enough that I should remember those things, but I think it was too much to think about. The memories have started to come back, maybe because I’m finally away fromher.”
He shakes his head, the motion jostling me. “She’s many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Why did she take a child that would be missed instead of an actual orphan?”
