Page 65 of Redeeming the Dragon

“I’m to be forced to wed a Warkin prince,” she sniffed haughtily. “What need have I for this blade? I suppose I can have all the Warkin weapons I wish after the wedding.”

Wedding? No, I could not let that happen!

“But not one such as this. It was given to me by the Simathe First,” I said, thinking quickly. “I would wager you don’t possess anything linked to the deathless.”

I could tell by the rounding of her eyes that my supposition was correct.

“You have met a Simathe?” she breathed.

“Not a mere Simathe. Their First. The very first Simathe ever created by your people, the Scraggen,” I announced proudly.

“That is truly remarkable,” the young woman observed. “My mother is the most powerful Scraggen alive, and even she’s not met the First. Nor Lord Ilgard, their current High-Chief.”

“Then would you not love to steal a march on your mother?” I grinned, offering the dagger. “One night with the Warkin prince. Same rules as before. Come tomorrow dawn, I will give you the dagger.”

“Deal,” she agreed. We clasped hands, then she said, “Go, Peddler. I’ll meet you this evening at dusk.”

I slipped past her. Before I’d gone far down the tunnel, she called softly, “Wait!”

I hesitated, turning back to her. “Aye?”

“You told me your name,” she said. “I’ve forgotten.”

“Lorna. Lorna of the Jeweled Isles.”

“Lorna,” she nodded. “That is easier than Peddler.”

I chuckled. “What is your name? That is easier than Scraggen’s Daughter.”

She dithered, but finally answered, “Atora. My name is Atora.”

“Atora,” I echoed. “That is a pretty name. I will see you tonight, Atora.”

With that, I was gone, grieving a failed chance to rescue my Dragonkind prince, but grateful for the night I’d spent with him and even more grateful for a second chance tonight. I would not let it go to waste. Light helping me, I would not fail.

Chapter 38

The day was long. I settled in a hidden spot between the trees to eat my meager meal of bread, fruit, and dried meat. I drank sparingly, trying not to think of the delicious smells wafting about the palace.

Perhaps I should ask Atora for food,I thought, munching on the hard bread.If I have to offer her my last artifact, I will. She seems eager to have the treasures. I wonder why? Would she tell me if I inquired? I wonder if she wishes to marry Kidron? She does not seem happy over the arrangement. Could I use that to my advantage?

So many questions, but they were compelled to wait until nightfall. This time, I went more eagerly and less fearfully to the tunnel where Atora awaited. She beckoned me inside, motioning for silence and haste. I complied, until we were in the stone tunnel that led to the iron door. Then I spoke softly.

“Atora? May I ask you a question?”

“Only if I can ask you one,” she returned shortly. The answer was so quick on her lips that I wondered if she had been mulling matters over today, just as I had.

“You first,” I offered.

Without breaking her stride, she said, “Why do you spend the night with my betrothed, Lorna? Why do I find you shamelessly sharing his bed?”

“Why are you not upset over it?” I challenged. “Do you not wish to marry him?”

“No.” She said it sharply. I stopped in my tracks, staring at her.

“Why not?”

This time, she shrugged, and there was an air of resignation as well as sadness in the gesture.

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