Page 49 of Mountain of Dragons and Sacrifice

I’d been sacrificed to a monster. So why did falling in love with him feel even more precarious?

Imet Clarissa at the large doors that led to the path to the village, quickly claiming baby Nessa. Dorrian set aside a large basket he’d been carrying to help Clarissa out of her cloak. She stuffed her cloak, mittens, and hat into her magical pocket, sharing a look with her husband.

They were so in love. The sight ached inside me. Both at seeing Clarissa so happy after believing her dead for so many years and perhaps with a little envy. I’d like that for myself. Someday. Sooner than someday, preferably. Maybe with a certain dragon shifter fae. If he ever gave me a hint that he felt the same.

“Is Evander in his study?” Dorrian shared another glance with Clarissa—a little heated, like he’d like to kiss her but wouldn’t in front of others—then ruffled the fuzz on baby Nessa’s head.

“Yes. I think he mentioned there was a complaint from the queen of the Court of Revels about one of the gems we recently sent there.” I patted the baby’s back as she squirmed in my arms.

Dorrian sighed and shook his head. “The monarchs of the Court of Revels are always complaining about one thing or another. But they are also one of the courts with the highest demand for gems, so we need to appease them. I’d better help Evander sort this out before he decides to light the complaint on fire.”

Something he’d done before, if that half-burned parchment I’d seen in the store room weeks ago was any indication.

With a slight bow in my direction, Dorrian hurried down the tunnel.

Clarissa and I headed down the tunnel at a slower pace. I nodded to the basket she had retrieved. A red towel covered the mound of contents. “What’s in the basket?”

“Olives.” Clarissa glanced at me, giving a laugh. “I know, right? Seems so mundane for us. But the Fae Realm doesn’t have anything remotely like olives, and it turns out the gnomes love them. My aunt and uncle still live in the village, and my parents occasionally sneak back there to visit them. My aunt and uncle know not to ask questions, and they keep us supplied with olives.”

“I never would’ve guessed.” I patted baby Nessa. She was fussing even more. I bounced her, but it didn’t help. “I think we might have to switch.”

Clarissa smiled, and we swapped bundles. I took the basket, and she took her baby, who calmed down once in her mother’s arms.

I glanced around, making sure we were alone. Still, I lowered my voice. “Something strange happened yesterday. Before the cave-in.”

Clarissa raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.

“We had just finished organizing his hoard.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at her as we strolled along the tunnel, our pace slowing. “But then he insisted on giving me a rock. He was kind of weird about it.”

“Oh.” Clarissa breathed the syllable out, and I couldn’t quite read the tone in her voice. Sympathetic, but also as if a candle had flared to life, revealing a long-hidden truth. “Dorrian was right.”

“What does that oh mean?” I risked a peek at her. “Dorrian was right about what?”

Her expression had gone strangely blank. Cautious. “You know dragons don’t let just anyone even see their hoard, much less help them organize it, right?”

“Really?” I shook my head. “He didn’t act like having me help was anything out of the ordinary.”

Clarissa blew out a breath. “Nessa, I’ve seen Evander’s hoard, but I’d never dare touch any of the stones. Even Dorrian knows better than to mess with Evander’s rocks. Not that Evander would turn nasty like some dragons would, but it would still make him uncomfortable, so we don’t do it.”

“Oh.” I had to force my feet to keep moving. I’d enjoyed the time with Evander so much. Had he been uncomfortable the whole time and yet was too nice to speak up and tell me? That sent a stabbing ache through my chest.

“Don’t look so crestfallen. I have no doubt he was perfectly happy having you help with his hoard.” Clarissa gave a tiny smirk before her gaze searched my face again. “You don’t know what a dragon giving someone a piece of his hoard means.” Her tone was part question, part statement.

“No.” I juggled the basket of olives to my other hand. Olives were rather heavy, after a while. “He said he wasn’t going to get angry or obsessive over it, since he was giving a piece of his hoard away instead of it being taken. But I didn’t even ask for anything. He just insisted on giving me a stone out of the blue.”

We were just inside the mouth of the tunnel before the waterfall cavern. The constant roar of the waterfall would hide our words from anyone who might happen to be walking by.

Clarissa halted and turned to face me. “Dragons only give pieces of their hoard to people they really, really care about. Most often, they only give a piece of their hoard to their mate.”

Mate. My knees wobbled in a way that made it tempting to reach for the wall behind me, even as I tried to pretend the word didn’t shake me as much as it did. Not in shock. Not in fear. But with a hope I didn’t dare feel.

“No, no, that can’t be it.” I shook my head, denying it even as my heart pounded harder. “I thought yesterday that maybe…but then he walked away, and I’m sure I’ve been reading things wrong because I…”

I snapped my mouth shut before I revealed too much. Clarissa was a friend, but I wasn’t ready to confess the jumble inside me just yet.

“Evander never gave me a piece of his hoard.” Clarissa held my gaze. “I never even saw his hoard until after I was married to Dorrian, and he and Evander gave me a tour. I can’t speak for everyone, but I haven’t heard of him giving a stone to any of the others, and I think I’d know. Those of us who stayed in the Fae Realm tend to talk, after all.”

“But that’s…I…” My throat closed, and I had to swallow to clear it. “But why give me a piece of his hoard at all? He’s never said anything.”

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