Page 16 of Caress of Fire
That bit of water and food was all that was standing between herself and certain death. She understood now that it had been a bad—a terribly bad—idea to set off by herself on foot like that. She had been too scared, too frazzled to think clearly, and now she was so far off that she wasn’t even sure where the castle was, and even less sure in which direction the capital of Aalstad, Gelmor, was. The city she called home.
Marielle was sure she had been walking straight south, heading for the capital, out of the desert and onto the fertile plains surrounding it, in the direction Silva had pointed. She looked at the stars, the landmarks around her, trying to keep a straight line in the barren, rocky landscape, but things had started to blur along the way.
It had been hours, but how many, she didn’t know. Marielle never stopped, never slowed down in her race to save Devan, because she knew. She knew Ignio Marula could have already hurt or killed her baby brother if he had learned of the High Lord’s death.
Her only hope was to get to him in time.
She had been walking all night, and now a lovely pink dawn rose over the desert, bathing the land in a dramatic display of shadows and light. As far as her eyes could see, rocks and dry vegetation covered the land; tall, tree-like cacti with spikes as long as sewing needles, and round, scrawny bushes casting shadows on the dry ground. It was breathtaking and merciless, cruel in its perfection.
Like Lord Fedryc. She had fallen under the Draekon’s cruel beauty like a spell. Even now, she still could see the curve of his hard mouth, feel his rough hand on her skin.
Even in her state of confusion and dehydration, she could appreciate the beauty of it. She could very well die here, under the merciless sun that was going to come. Nobody would come looking for her.
Exhaustion filled her bones and her vision filled with black spots but still, she pushed through. Her feet got tangled in a root—or a rock—or perhaps each other, she couldn’t tell.
She fell, hard.
The pouch of water and the packet of provisions left her grip as she instinctively tried to stop her fall with her hands outstretched in front of her. Hard stones met her knees and she screamed. She tumbled to the rocky ground, the side of her face scraping against the sand, her hip landing on a large rock.
Flashes of pain invaded her body, from her face to her hip and legs, and desperation washed over her like a wet blanket, covering everything.
There, flat on the desert ground, Marielle cried softly, silently losing what little moisture remained in her body. She let the sobs wreak havoc through her body, through her mind as the pressure and terror of the last few days washed over her in an irresistible tide. Every horrible event came back to her frazzled mind, one after the other; from that day she’d walked inside the decrepit shack where she lived with Devan to find Ignio Marula there and her brother beaten and bloody, to her gnawing fear as the clerks fluttered around her in the Delradon-Human liaison office after she’d handed over her letter of genetic compatibility. Then the horror that had overcome her as she’d found the High Lord dying and his dragon dead, and the gut-wrenching fear as she was carried to the dungeon after the captain of the guard accused her of the murder of Lord Aymond, followed by the desperation of her time in the cold, windy dungeon.
She’d lived through all of it, but she didn’t think she’d live through this. She was too tired, too far from home. She knew that if she didn’t find civilization of any kind before the next sunset, she would be dead.
I’m so sorry, Devan. I tried, I really did.
It was thinking of her brother, of his fear and pain, waiting for her in the clutches of Ignio Marula that pushed her out of that black despair that dampened her every thought. She couldn’t give up, not yet. Not while she still had breath in her body.
Her eyes strayed to the fallen food and water, and she walked on her knees to cradle the bread and sausage inside the linen blanket, then reached with trembling hands for the pouch of water. She hesitated at the low sound of liquid moving in the strange Delradon contraption, which felt like cotton but was as strong as the thickest leather and kept the water in without risk of losing any. Her fingers trembled as she twisted the lid open.
Then she drank. And drank some more. Soon, she couldn’t stop and water flowed down her throat to fill her empty stomach. The moisture filled her mouth, her belly as she emptied the pouch. Finally, she set it aside, looking at the useless remnant with remorse. She shouldn’t have drunk it all but she hadn’t been able to stop.
Marielle straightened, sitting on the large, flat rock she had fallen on to stare up at the sky. The stars had gone to make way for a pale blue sky, illuminated by clouds of shocking pink and orange. Colors came to life in the early dawn and Marielle stared. She knew she should be getting up, should walk again. The day ahead was going to be even worse than the night as the sun hammered over the desert. But she couldn’t do it just yet. Her legs ached and her head throbbed. She sighed, then reached for the loaf of bread and shoved a large piece in her mouth.
She closed her eyes when the slightly salty taste covered her taste buds, then ate until her belly was full and distended.
Then the sound of wings flapping made her jerk her eyes open and her mouth opened in a wide O.
The sky was gone, and in its place was a landscape of scales the red color of fire and fury.
Chapter 6
Athunderous noise filled the air as a demon straight from hell landed on the desert landscape a hundred yards in front of Marielle. Scales in the shades of molten lava covered a muscular, reptilian body and eyes like blue fire radiated a fury so pure it almost burned. From the beast’s partially open mouth, Marielle could see a series of four-inch long fangs glistening white and sharp.
A dragon. This was a dragon, and it was about to rip her soft flesh to bloody ribbons.
Marielle opened her mouth, but no sound escaped and all she could do was stare at the creature that charged right at her as her breathing morphed into a scream.
Wings as wide as a two-story building covered Marielle in a dense shadow, and the dragon lifted its head to roar into the glistening dawn. Terror rippled across the air, resonating within her bones, filling her veins with adrenaline.
Marielle’s scream died and an old instinct overtook her body and mind as she darted blindly through the desert terrain, not caring about her food or water. Her entire being was focused solely on escaping the predator that was about to sink its sharp fangs into her flesh.
Her legs pumped fast, and soon, her breathing was ragged and uneven, but she didn’t stop because the shadow of the beast was over her, easily following as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew. She knew she wasn’t going to outrun the beast, but the primal part of her brain that wouldn’t let go made her pump her legs even faster as a large set of rocks loomed closer. It wasn’t good enough, but it was the only cover around for hundreds of miles.
She darted for it as a blood-curdling screech filled the air above her head.
Red wings swooped just feet from her left shoulder and a huge head snapped above her hair, but Marielle was quick and light, and she managed to reach the rock. She scuttled as far as she could underneath the pitiful shelter and pulled her knees to her chin, wrapping her arms closely around them in a childish position of helplessness. Her heart beat so fast her chest hurt and all she could hear was the sound of her own blood rushing through her veins as the dragon’s shape formed over the desert sand in front of her.
