Page 36 of Mountain of Dragons and Sacrifice

“You’re not at fault for any of that.” It seemed so wrong, that this rather good dragon bore such guilt when he was the only one trying to make anything better. “The village elders over the years are the ones who twisted your actions and decided sacrificing maidens was a good idea.”

“Perhaps. But my actions started this whole mess. I’m responsible to fix it.” Evander rubbed even harder at his palm, not looking at me.

Maybe that was what made him a good man—well, dragon. He saw the terrible things that were being done and took on the burden of defending the helpless and making things as right as possible. He could have walked away in the knowledge that none of it was his fault. But he didn’t, even if he had his moments of wallowing in defeated helplessness.

“I, for one, appreciate what you’re trying to do.” I stifled a yawn, pressing a hand over my mouth.

Evander pushed to his feet, then held a hand out to me. “We should head for our beds. If you want to visit Clarissa tomorrow, you’ll want a few hours of sleep.”

I nodded and took his hand, his fingers rough yet warm, his strength tempered with a safe gentleness as he pulled me to my feet.

I wasn’t sure how much sleep I’d get with all the new truths rattling around in my head. But I’d have to try. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with these revelations.

Chapter Ten

All this time, the reluctant and harried dragon was re-homing the maiden sacrifices. Sacrifices he’d never wanted and only started by accident.

So lovely to find out your life had been turned upside down because of the superstitions of generations of village elders.

Despite the late night, I woke shortly after dawn. After dressing, I crept down the passageway from my room to the kitchen and gathering space, my stomach twisting with both nerves and hunger.

Yet when I stepped inside, Phoebe was bustling around the kitchen, the fae rock polishers sat on the benches by the tables, and Evander, so normal and undragonlike, sat in his usual spot, eating breakfast as if my world hadn’t been turned upside down. Again.

Had I dreamed everything last night? Too much sugar and trauma?

I walked on wobbly legs across the room and slid onto the bench across from Evander.

He smiled, pushing a second plate piled with green eggs and a gray-looking sausage toward me. “Are you ready to visit the fae village this morning?”

“Yes.” No. Maybe. I forced myself to take a bite of breakfast, but I struggled to swallow. I hadn’t felt this unbalanced since that first morning I’d arrived here. After forcing myself to choke down enough of my breakfast to silence my stomach, I pushed away my plate. “Can we go now?”

Evander nodded, swallowed a bite of sausage, then pushed aside his plate. “Yes.”

As I shrugged into my cloak, he led the way to the doors to the outside, flung them open, then halted just outside. He unlaced his leather jerkin, tugged it off, and stuffed it into a pocket. With his blue tunic loose and flapping in the slight breeze, he glanced at me. “I’m going to shift, all right?”

I nodded, bracing myself. I’d seen him shift last night. I could handle it.

The air around him seemed to shimmer, then his wings morphed from his back. His face sharpened, and his smile abruptly dropped from his face, but not before I caught a glimpse of the sharp fangs in his mouth.

I gaped at Evander, from his amber-flecked eyes to the blue, scaled wings rising from his back. “You’re the dragon.”

He stilled, peering at me with something almost like wariness. “Yes, I told you that last night.”

“Yes, but you are the dragon.” My feet rooted to the spot. Despite our discussion last night, I hadn’t yet melded Evander, the dragon, and the memories of each of them—of him—together in my mind until now.

“Yes.” Evander drew out the word, as if he wasn’t sure where I was going with this.

“No wonder the dragon always knew whatever I’d done during the day.” I buried a shaky hand in my dark curls. “I just thought you were a horrible snitch. But no, you were the dragon the whole time.”

“Sorry?” Evander leaned back on his heels, as if he were the one scared of me right now.

Shouldn’t I feel more betrayed? Evander had lied to me, telling me he was the dragon’s steward rather than the dragon himself.

Instead, there was just this swirling feeling that jumbled somewhere between floating and falling.

Evander was the dragon. All my memories of the menacing dragon were actually of Evander.

But also…the dragon was Evander. The fae who walked around with gyros in his pockets and accidentally set fire to parchments when he sneezed.

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