Dragonsbane (Book 3) (45 page)

“Would you permit me one final question?”

His gaze seemed to churn as he considered it. The little flecks of white set against the blue appeared to drift slowly in an arc around his pupil. “I trust you more than I trust Your Majesty. One more question.”

Argon thought carefully. He’d spent hours trekking through the courtyard at the King’s command, searching for others who might’ve been hiding amongst the ruins — wondering if perhaps he would come across the mother Devin had spoken of. But though he’d cast spells for light and life, there’d only been Devin. 

“What happened to the … others? What became of your family?”

He shrugged. “They died. My mother used to say all her children were like the wildflowers: beautiful while they bloomed, but lasting only a season. I’ve already lived half my life.”

That couldn’t be possible. Devin was only just a man — he hadn’t even quite gotten his beard. “Forgive me, but you must be mistaken. If your lives were truly so short, your people would’ve perished centuries ago.”

Devin smirked. “You didn’t know my mother.” All at once, the calm blue of his eyes coiled tightly. “That token Your Majesty took from me belonged to my father — it’s the only thing I have of him. I promised my mother I would keep it close. I want it back.”

It took Argon a moment to realize what he was talking about. “I can’t help you, child.”

“Why not? You can use magic.”

Argon sighed. “There are chains on my wrists as well — you just can’t see them.”

  No expression crossed his face. There was no anger, no frustration or fear. Devin simply walked away.

He went to the window and laid his hands upon the seal. He pressed his head against the glass and leaned heavily, as if he wished he could tumble out into the world beyond. The stark eyes beneath his brows roved to watch the courtyard.

Soldiers were gathered around a team of carts. They hauled supplies up by thick ropes and covered them in tarps. They were preparing for the King’s journey into the northern swamps, making certain that all their food and shelter would be protected from the damp air.

“It’s a short journey,” Argon said as he watched over Devin’s shoulder. “The King has made it many times.”

That was as comforting as he dared to be. It would’ve been unkind to say that the journey would be easy, or that Devin would return. He wished he could scry the boy’s future, but Fate’s presence sat too heavily upon the Kingdom, now. The waters of his bowl remained pitch black and still.

“Will I ever see you again?”

It wasn’t a question Argon had been expecting to hear, and he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer. “I don’t know, child. The future is a fickle thing …” He cleared his throat. “But I hope you will.”

“I hope that, too,” Devin said quietly. “You’ve been kind to me.”

After that, the days passed all too quickly. The young mages kept including Devin in their experiments, blissfully unaware that he would soon be taken from them. Argon listened to their chatter as often as he could. When the curtains caught flame, he didn’t scold them quite so harshly.

Perhaps it was cruel to keep them from the truth. But he thought it would’ve been far crueler to force them to live with the knowledge that Devin was going away … and that even if he returned, he would never be the same.

When the sun finally dawned upon that dreaded morning, the young mages were still asleep in their chambers. Argon woke to pounding upon the door and opened it reluctantly. A pair of soldiers pushed their way through and grabbed Devin by the arm.

“Not until I’ve said my goodbyes.” Argon spoke calmly, but the look on his face made the soldiers think twice. They released Devin and waited grumpily by the door.

“Farewell, child.”

He didn’t reply. But then again, he didn’t have to: the boy’s deep blue stare pierced Argon straight through the heart. He felt reluctance in every fleck of white, sadness buried in the rifts that burst from his pupils. There was a reflection of all the chains that wrapped around them both — that forced them into tasks they’d never wanted.

After a silent moment, Devin walked to the soldiers without fear. One of them grabbed him roughly. But instead of trying to pull away, he latched onto the soldier’s arm — like a child might’ve latched to his mother.

“Be kind to that boy,” Argon said when the soldier looked up in surprise.

He wasn’t sure if it was the warning in his voice or Devin’s stare that did the trick, but the soldiers were much more careful than usual as they led him away.

Argon watched the King’s caravan from the window. He frowned as Devin was hobbled and tossed inside one of the carts. When the caravan rolled from the courtyard, Argon’s hands curled rather unexpectedly into fists. He’d watched the King haul countless men to meet the same fate — and though he’d hurt for them, he knew in his heart it would do no good to be angry. Everything happened on a roll of Fate’s die, after all. In the end, she had a purpose for all living things.

But as the caravan’s tail disappeared through the gates, he began to feel something he’d not felt in a long while. It was an emotion he preferred to cover over with peace — the knowing that all would be as Fate intended.

Now that peace had vanished, replaced by a doubt that burned dark and fierce. Argon was not content to simply allow the die to fall. For the first time in a long while, he hoped that Fate knew what she was doing.

Chapter 42

Remarkable Friends

Kyleigh … Kyleigh
!

The ice broke. A spray of bubbles clouded her vision as something plunged beneath the flow. They hissed and dissipated into the blue, revealing the spread fingers of an outstretched hand.

Kyleigh flew towards the hand, ripped along by the river’s fury. If she could grasp it, she’d be saved. She tried to will herself to move, will her arm to stretch and her hand to reach. But the cold was far too great. She couldn’t feel her muscles well enough to urge them on.

And while she struggled, the hand whipped by.

It was the only dream she seemed able to have — this one flash of color in an eternal darkness, this one chance to pull her soul from sleep. Each time she missed, Kyleigh was plunged into the black once more. There was no sight or sound, nothing to grab onto. She hung listless in the depths for countless hours, waiting for the dream to come again.

An age passed before she heard the waters roaring against her ears. Pressure filled her nose and pulled hard against her lips. Her eyes flashed open to a world wrought in shades of greens and blues.

Twin shadows passed above her, the gallop of footsteps across the ice. She heard the muffled sound of her name as the shadows thundered overhead, and she … she turned to follow them.

This was new. Instead of waiting for the river to twist her around, she’d twisted on her own. Now she watched as the shadows stopped ahead of her. She knew that hand would be plunging into the water at any moment — and this time, she would be ready.

Her fingers cracked open, bursting through the frosted shell that’d settled over her skin. Her mind felt sharper: she was no longer a listless thing passed between the worlds of light and darkness, but a prisoner mindful of her cage.

She would escape. She would pull her soul from the depths.

With the force of this thought came a little warmth. Heat pressed against her palms and circled, spreading out to her fingertips. She moved her hand. Her arm followed after. She heard the ice shatter and saw the spray of foam. Her lips parted and a stream of bubbles
whoosh
ed out as she swung herself forward.

In the split second before she reached the hand, the world went dark once more … but she’d made it. She must have. Even in the dark, she could feel the hands in hers. They were numb at first: things she thought didn’t belong to her. When the fingers brushed against her palm, she knew it for certain.

Feeling came back to her slowly. A song drifted across Kyleigh’s ears — muddled by the distance, growing clearer as she listened. Strange words carried by a familiar voice. They sunk beneath the dream and teased her with their dancing notes. She followed the voice to the edge of darkness, chasing until a seal broke over her lungs.

They expanded, breathing in an air with taste and scent. Her first breath surprised her. The second carried with it a wakefulness that spread quickly to her limbs.

Kyleigh’s body was trembling, shivering with cold. There were warm patches on either side of her. They’d begun to thaw her at the edges. Her lungs took in an air that smoldered with heat. It spread warmth through her blood and melted the frost that’d formed inside her chest.

Flames grew in her middle until they touched the warm patches on either side. Fingers pressed against her palms in slow, circling movements. The smallness of their touch matched the strange words in the song. Kyleigh thought she might’ve fallen into another dream. Just to be sure, she closed around the hands twined in hers, brought them closer …

The song stopped with a gasp.

Kyleigh groaned as the warm patch in front of her pulled away suddenly. Cooler air rushed in, startling her eyes awake.

Dark strands of hair fell loose from her silver clasp, but couldn’t quite shadow the sparks in her eyes. Nadine wrapped her arms about Kyleigh’s neck and plunged her head forward until her ears were filled with the wild thudding of a tiny heart.

“She is awake!” Nadine cried.

“Thank Fate. I was about to die from the heat.” The warm patch behind Kyleigh rolled away. A hand came up and patted her lightly on the shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Me too, Elena,” Kyleigh said. Her voice was hoarse — half from sleep, and half from being pressed so tightly against Nadine. Her scent was much stronger than it’d been before. She realized her ear was pressed against bare skin. “Nadine, are you … naked?”

She pushed Kyleigh away and pulled a fur blanket up to her chin. “We had to keep you warm.”

“Oh dear, I can see I’ve been a very bad influence on you,” Kyleigh teased. “Now you’ve gone and broken all sorts of rules.”

Nadine scowled at her grin. “This does not count. They said there was ice on your bones, and that the warmth of other bodies would keep your blood from freezing —”

“I’m honored.” Kyleigh braved the cooler air outside the blankets to clasp Nadine on the shoulder. “Truly, I am. In all my years, I’m not sure I’ve done enough to deserve such remarkable friends.” She lay back and closed her eyes against the orange light. “Now … would you care to tell me how in blazes the two of you came to be in the Unforgivable Mountains?”

It sounded as if they’d had a rather wild adventure. Kyleigh’s heart fell when she heard of the Valley peoples’ plight, but rose again at the battle with the bandits. She laughed outright when Elena told her that Jake had unwittingly burned Crow’s Cross to the ground.

“He was angry with me for ages about that,” she muttered, staring up at the stone ceiling. Her arms were propped behind her head and the furs pulled over her chest. The dark edge of her eyes softened a bit as she spoke. “I think he realized after a while … well, death is just a part of life, isn’t it? The more evil we get out of the way, the happier life will be.
That’s
what gives us peace.”

They talked for a while more, trading stories while Kyleigh tried to remember how to use all of her limbs. Then a sudden knocking on the door threw her friends into a panic.

Elena tossed a heavy pelt over Kyleigh’s head and held her close while Nadine shouted: “Come in —
quickly
! Do not leave the door open for long.”

There was a creak and a blast of icy air. Kyleigh realized that her body hadn’t quite recovered from the frost. Her joints remembered the ache of cold and seized up quickly, even with Elena covering her.

Fortunately, the door slammed shut as quickly as it’d opened. The familiar noise of boots clomping across the floor told her it was Gwen. “Supper’s here. It got frostbitten on the way over. I’ll set it in the coals for a while, but …”

Elena pulled the pelt off Kyleigh’s face and the pot Gwen had been holding slipped out of her hands. It hit the stone floor with a
clang
and broth splattered in every direction.

For a moment, the whites around her eyes showed starkly against the black swirls of her paint. Then she glared. “I groan to think of how many spools of thread Fate wasted on your tapestry, pest.”

“I’ve missed you too, love,” Kyleigh said with a grin.

Surprisingly, Gwen smirked back. “Yes, and speaking of … tapestries,” she said, holding the word with an edge that made Kyleigh bristle, “the mutt will want to know that you’re awake. I’ll go get him.”

“No, I’ll go.”

Elena ripped the blankets aside and — judging by how quickly Nadine covered her eyes — she wasn’t wearing much.

Gwen made a frustrated sound. “How many times must I swear on the graves of my fathers that your companions are safe?”

There was the rattle of armor, then a
click
as Elena strapped her daggers into place. “I don’t trust you around my mage —
the
mage. That mage, I mean …” Her words trailed into a string of curses and she stormed away.

“That’s still going on, is it?” Kyleigh whispered.

Nadine grinned from behind her hands.

Gwen scooped the pot off the floor and set it in the coals. “Fine. Then I’ll at least tell my wildmen that you’re awake,” she muttered.

Grit rained down from the ceiling as Elena pounded on the door. This time when it opened, Kyleigh kept her head above the covers.

From a distance, the door seemed to be made from a solid slab of wood. As she watched, the wood peeled back like a curtain and Gwen and Elena slipped through the narrow opening left behind. She saw the painted hands of a craftsman molding the door back into place, sealing out the cold.

“This used to be a cave with a mouth opened to the weather. But Kael and his people — these wildmen — shaped it until that hole was all that remained.”

Nadine pointed up at the ceiling, where a gap the size of a man’s torso stood out against the rock. A pit of burning coals sat in the middle of the cave’s floor. Smoke trailed from its fiery bed and drifted out the hole in steady tendrils.

“They have sealed the door to the stone so that not even a cold breath may enter. It is remarkable, this magic. Now, you will cover your eyes while I dress — I would hate to have gouge them out,” she said with mock severity.

Kyleigh sighed, but did as she was told.

Once Nadine had pulled on her clothes, it was time for the challenging bit. The cold had done more than freeze Kyleigh: her muscles were weak and her joints groaned in protest at even the slightest movement. She felt as if she’d been lying around on the floor for years. But she was determined to stand.

No sooner had she risen to her feet than Nadine clothed her with furs, pulling on such a variety of dead animals that Kyleigh couldn’t quite pick out all of their scents. Her knees bent with the added weight and she sat down heavily, struggling to catch her breath.

Though Nadine was vehemently against it, Kyleigh got back to her feet. She leaned against the wall for balance while Nadine swathed her in yet another layer of furs. She’d just wrapped a pelt about her shoulders when a wild chorus of howls sounded from beyond the door.

“Gwen has told her people. It will not be long before Kael is here.” Nadine’s hands gripped Kyleigh’s arms and when she spoke, her voice was in earnest: “I know you must be grateful to him, but do not do anything … rash.”

It took Kyleigh a moment to understand the worry behind her eyes. “Wait — so you’re saying I
shouldn’t
chop off my hair and ask him to marry me?”

“Your insolence knows no bounds!” Nadine said. She smiled the whole way to the door. “I am glad to see you again.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Nadine.”

The door opened and her little friend from the desert vanished with a blast of cold. The moment she was gone, there was nothing left to distract her. Kyleigh nearly collapsed against the wall.

Twin rivers raged inside her chest, warring against each other. One was deep and calm: the dragon in her knew what Kael had done, and accepted it with love. But the human side of things was a different matter.

Kyleigh wasn’t used to being saved. She hated feeling weak — hated the idea that, had it not been for someone else’s pity, she might’ve drawn her last breath. This river raged more furiously than its brother. Its white-capped waters plunged over jagged rocks and slapped against the shores. It would not bend, would not be swayed. Its flow would break for no one.

Shallow, though
, the dragon in her said.
For all its fury, those waters are shallow — more foam than depth.

Half of her heard the wisdom, but the other half still worried. She wanted to be able to keep Kael’s stride. She didn’t want to slow him down. Would he think less of her now?

Was
that
what the river had been roaring about?

A sudden creak of wood peeling from the cave’s mouth startled her. She watched as Kael stepped inside — watched the careful movements of his hands as he sealed the door behind him. She stared at the high arches of his brows as he spun because she was too afraid of what she might see in his eyes. She plugged her ears against the proud roar of the river and took a deep breath.

“Kael, I want to thank —”

Her words caught in her throat. His arms were wrapped about her middle. Their hearts collided as he pressed his chest into hers. His grip was stronger than it’d been before, but no tighter. She let her face rest against his neck and steeled herself against the things that might be rushing through his veins.

Relief was all she felt: the song of rain striking the barren earth, a burst of the sun’s light as it broke from behind the clouds. His joy rose beneath her and filled her to the top, straining until she could no longer hold it in.

“Why are you crying?
I’m
the one who should be crying!” Kael said with a gasping laugh.

“You should be, but you’re too stubborn,” Kyleigh said back. “Someone’s got to cry. So now I’m crying for both of us!”

He pressed his sleeve against her cheek, drying her tears. Tiny white flakes clung to his jerkin.

“It’s snowing?”

He nodded. “It started falling about an hour ago. The wildmen had this mourning ceremony all arranged, with drums and songs — it was supposed to be a very solemn thing, mind you. They were going to weep all afternoon about how Fate has forsaken the earth and let winter in.” Kael shook his head. His lips tightened around his smile, and she knew he was fighting back a laugh. “Then Jonathan got involved. Now they’re singing about pirate grog and toothless women — and bosoms, of course.”