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I’m surprised by how gentle he is as he rubs the salve over my lower legs and feet, taking great care to apply it thoroughly. The burning pain begins to ebb as it seeps into my skin, and I notice scar tissue already starting to form along the edges. “What is that exactly? It’s healing my skin faster than anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“It iskavoroot. It works quickly. You should be completely healed either tomorrow or the next day. We use it to treat burns on fledglings.”
As shocked as I am about how soon I’ll be healed, I’m even more so by what he said about their young. It is common knowledge that all Dragons are immune to the effects of fire. “I thought Dragons could not burn.”
“Until their mature scales come in, fledglings are vulnerable to fire,” he explains, carefully redressing my wounds. When he is done, he arches a brow. “And unfortunately, their ability to breathe flame develops before their scales harden.”
The topic of children makes me curious about his life. I wonder if he has any family. “Do you have any… fledglings?” I ask, making sure to use the same word he did.
“No.”
“A wife?”
Something flashes behind his eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for me to know what it was. “I have not yet taken a mate.”
I glance down at my wrapped lower legs and feet, pondering my own future. My freckles were already considered unattractive by two of the suitors my uncle tried to match me with, but now I have so many scars. Although I know vanity is foolish, it hurt anyway.
And while it is common for warriors to bear scars, many of which they wear proudly, mine were not received in battle. A tear escapes my lashes, but I quickly brush it away.
Aurdyn frowns. “Does it still pain you?”
It does, but not in the way that he imagines. The memory of my uncle’s cold indifference when I begged for my life is a wound so deep, I wonder if it will ever stop hurting. “No,” I lie. “It is fine.”
When he shifts, I note the slight wince he makes as he flexes his wings. “You are hurt.”
“I will heal.”
The last thing I remember is him pulling me free of the flames and then waking up here. “What happened? Where are you injured?”
“My leg was hit with a poisoned black arrow when we escaped. It impaired my ability to fly, and when we landed, I injured my left wing.” His hands curl into fists at his side. “My wound is already closed, and my wing will heal, but it will take at least a week before I can fly. We cannot afford to wait that long.”
“Why?”
“The female who stood with your king, she was a Mage. She will be hunting us.”
Emotions tighten my chest as I think of Luria, remembering the shimmer of magic on her skin. Bitter acid rises in my throat, but I swallow it back down. I trusted her. We both did, and she betrayed us. And now, she wants me dead.
Aurdyn looks to the window and the snowstorm outside, his brow furrowed deeply. “This storm has not let up since we arrived. It is unusual for this time of year. I suspect it is her doing. She is trying to delay us from reaching my kingdom. Which is why we must leave here as soon as your wounds have healed.”
“That could take days.”
“As I explained,” he says, a hint of irritation shifting into his tone. “The salve works quickly.”
“You’ve used it on humans before?” I challenge.
“No,” he grumbles. “But you saw with your own eyes that you are already beginning to heal.”
I glance down at my legs, and sigh heavily. “But until they do, we’re trapped.” His gaze snaps to mine, and I huff out a laugh. “What a fine pair we are. A human who cannot walk, and a Dragon who cannot fly.”
“Indeed,” he rumbles, but I note the hint of a smile that tugs at his lips.
“These were left behind by the previous occupants.” He gestures to a pile of folded leather clothes and a pair of fur-lined boots by the fire. “Change into them while I am gone.”
It will be nice to change into something relatively fresh. I glance down at my tattered dress, the fabric singed along the hemline and black from the smoke.
He stands, and then starts for the door. “Where are you going?”
“To check the perimeter.”
