Page 44 of Dragons' Future

“Lilith was afraid. Terrified. She worried that if you knew Jonas and me, you might speak of us to the wrong person. It would have placed either you or us in danger. Even with the binding spell.”

Cyril frowned, studying Agatha for several heartbeats. Sooner or later, they’d have to tell her that the priest from whom she'd descended was not only still alive but sitting armless on her homestead. He hoped to know the old hag better before having to break that news to her. Or at least to learn all she had to give in case the information stopped.

He straighted his back, which made a fresh jolt of pain spear through him. Emric had hurt him badly, and the crazed flight that followed had been unkind to the wounds. “So now that Kit is here, and the prophecy Illiana foresaw is unfolding, what happens next?”

“I’ve not the faintest idea,” said Agatha.

“What?” Kit twisted around.

“Are you telling us that you waited for Kit all these years, but you don’t know why?” Cyril pressed. “I don’t wish to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but the cottage alone would have provided her with a soft place to land even without your presence. Surely there is some reason you are here?”

“I imagine there is,” Agatha agreed. “And in time we shall learn what it is.”

Cyril’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like that answer.

“May I speak to you alone?” Agatha asked Cyril.

“I see no reason to keep secrets from my mate.”

Agatha rose, gave him a look that said but you are keeping secrets from her already, aren’t you? She rose from the rocker. “Come, boy. Don’t be scared of an old woman.”

“Cyril?” Kit frowned.

“I have no idea,” he said with a sigh. “But I’m curious enough to find out.”

Borrowing from reserves of strength that were already empty, Cyril rose to his feet. Whatever Agatha had to say, he wished it could wait until he wasn’t so dizzy with pain and fatigue that he could hardly keep himself upright—but battles were seldom fought at one’s convenience. “You realize I’m a dragon, right?” He said to Agatha. “And am older than you by a magnitude of centuries?”

She brushed off the comment with a wave of her hand. “Bah, that’s nothing but arithmetic. You are at the dawn of your life and I at the dusk of mine. Come.”

Cyril glanced at Kit one final time. If she was at all uncomfortable with him leaving, then he wouldn’t. No matter what Agatha said or implied. Kit nodded to him. He glared at Broker and Rand next.

“We’ll look after her,” Rand said, understanding the silent question. “With our lives.”

Knowing better than to wait for Kit’s comment on that little vow, Cyril wisely hurried after Agatha.

The old woman led him outside to a small barn, close to the main house. Bypassing a cow and a few bleating goats, Agatha opened the door to a simple room. Dried herbs and medicines lined one wall, and fresh ones grew in tiered plant beds on the others. The scent of raw earth and greenhouse aroma sliced through Cyril’s lungs, carrying flashes of a circular chamber.

Cyril gripped the doorframe. He wasn’t taking one step more. And if Agatha pushed the issue, she might not walk out of the barn alive.

CHAPTER 25

Cyril

Agatha marked the white knuckle grip Cyril held on the door. The old woman saw entirely too much. He glared at her.

"You can inspect the room if you’d like,” Agatha said.

“You wished to speak alone. Say your piece.”

“There is nothing in here that could hurt you. Only help.”

"What help do you imagine I require?"

"I'm not yet sure." Agatha dusted her hands off on her skirt. "The simple answer of course is whatever wounds you hide beneath the tunic you will not remove. Though the pain rolling off you is too potent to end there.”

“I’m fine. With the exception of my growing irritation.” He was fine. Hurt, yes. Tired. Buried under too many thoughts and expectations to have had a chance to work through them. But he was fine. And the sooner he could get some sleep, the more fine he would be. “Why did you want to separate me from my mate?”

“Because I care for Lilith’s daughter too much to let Kitterny’s mate flounder about in his own stubbornness.” She sighed and Cyril thought he heard her mutter something about cocky males. “You are hanging on by a thread so thin, you are a breath away from shattering. I see it. And Kitterny will too, the moment she is not so exhausted she can barely sit upright. I know nothing about you, but she’ll be hurt when you crack. So, for her sake, I’m offering a chance to pull yourself together. Whether you take it or not, well that’s your decision.”

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