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I watch as the Dwarf and his wife give the children another two strips of meat each, but do not take any extra for themselves. In fact they’ve hardly eaten anything at all this morning. As I study them closer I realize how thin they are, even their offspring.
An uncomfortable knot forms in my chest. They must not have enough food to last the season. This winter has been particularly brutal compared to the one prior.
I push back from the table and make my way to the door.
“Where are you going?” Freyja’s voice calls out behind me.
“To hunt,” I call over my shoulder as I step outside into the snowstorm.
Seven hells, this human will be the end of me.I cannot believe I feel bad for Dwarves, but I certainly know whose fault it is that I’m suddenly going soft.
CHAPTER13
FREYJA
As soon as Aurdyn leaves, Moira looks to me, worry etched in her features. “Are you certain you are under no duress, my dear?”
I lean forward and rest my hand over hers. “I appreciate your concern, but it is unwarranted. Aurdyn is not a bad man.”
“He’s not a man,” Orin says grimly. “He’s a Dragon. Their sort are not known for their kindness.”
One of the children looks at me, hope shining in her expression. “Then… the Dragon will not eat us?”
“Of course not, little one.” I lean in a bit and give her a warm smile. “He’s just a bit grumpy because he misses his home.”
“Why does he not simply fly back to the Ice Mountains then?” she asks.
“Why, indeed,” Orin muses. He exchanges a glance with his wife and something unspoken passes between them before he turns back to me. “You’re the one they’re searching for, aren’t you?”
Ice freezes my veins.
“The Order of Mages are hunting you for the crime of practicing witchcraft,” Moira presses. “Are they not?”
Panic twists deep inside me, but I force it back down. “Yes.” I straighten in my seat as I meet their eyes evenly. “I thought Dwarves and Otherworldly beings did not consider witchcraft a crime.”
“It is not a crime among our kin,” Moira says. “But that isn’t the danger you face outside of your uncle’s kingdom.”
“It’s the bounty on your head that’s the problem,” Orin interjects. “It’s high enough that those who are desperate might be tempted to turn you in.”
I dart a glance at their children. It’s easy to see from their appearance and the way they are eating now that they’re near starving in this house. “Some might say you and your family are in dire straits due to this cold season,” I ask the question without asking.
“Seven hells,” Orin curses, rocking back in his chair. “If we were going to turn you in, we certainly wouldn’t be alerting you to it.”
“We’re simply trying to warn you,” Moira adds. “You seem like a nice human, and we didn’t want you to leave here unaware, you see? There will be some who are searching for you, and if you can avoid them, all the better. They’re looking for a human with red hair, traveling with a Dragon.”
Growing up in the royal court, I learned long ago not to trust easily. And yet, I find myself wanting to believe these two.
“Is it the storm that keeps him from simply flying you to his mountains?” Moira asks. “Because I thought Dragons could fly in most any type of weather.”
While I doubt they mean us any harm, I find myself unsure whether to divulge about Aurdyn’s injured wing. Before I can think up an answer, the door bursts open, slamming against the wall.
Aurdyn steps through the doorway, carrying a large, already skinned kill of some sort. His hair is covered in flakes of snow that shake off the silken silver-white strands as he kicks the door shut behind him.
His footsteps thunder across the wooden floor as he moves past us and into the small pantry near the back of the kitchen area, setting his kill on the carving block in the back. He turns to Orin. “There is more outside by your barn.”
Orin nods and then stands from his chair. He looks at his wife. “I’d best go out and see that it’s stored properly, before it attracts any predators.”
As soon as he leaves, Aurdyn turns to me. “The storm is moving off. We should be able to leave in an hour or so.”
