Page 59 of When the Wicked Sing
Dax rested his forehead against hers, keeping them from going any further. He swallowed and pulled away to stand.
Mariana blinked. Disappointment cut through her like a knife, the moment slipping away.
“Samos is a day’s trek away,” he said, clearing his throat while glancing toward the darkening trail as the clouds rolled in. The sky was a tumultuous sea of gray, promising more rain. “If we move quickly, we’ll arrive by sundown.”
Mariana nodded, trying to forget his lips. She hesitated before taking Dax’s offered hand and stood. Releasing a deep breath, she swallowed her pride and followed him into the misty forest.
Chapter 31
Soakedtothebone,they sloshed through the rain into Samos long after they were supposed to. The town’s lamps cast the darkened street in gloomy white light.
Dax took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder at Mari, trailing behind, her eyes staring at the lights.Gods, she’s beautiful.Even with half the forest trapped in her long hair, her bright, curious eyes made him want to step close to her.
Clearing his throat, he stared into the lights, burning his eyes and the ridiculous thoughts in his head. “Electricity,” he said. “Samos is a mining town of lumen crystals. It’s what gives the kingdom electricity.”
Mari craned her head to look up at the tall lamppost. “Do all towns in the fae realm have electricity?”
“No, just a few. Some have hydro-power, though.”
“Like—” Mari stopped herself from saying it aloud as two tired fae hobbled past, but he heard what she meant and nodded.
Kythera utilized the waterfall’s energy to power their village. They didn’t believe in ripping apart the earth for the luxury of eternal light.
Pulling Mari forward, he guided her toward an inn lit with soft-glowing windows.
“The buildings look so … strange,” she commented, staring at the curved stone doors, archways, and roofs darkened with rain.
Dax’s mouth lifted. “Wait till you get inside.”
They walked into the Wandering Wyrm Inn, and Dax watched Mari’s eyes bulge from her skull.
Numerous metal lanterns hung from dark wooden beams along the ceiling, the glow from within each one revealing different types of dragons that used to exist long, long ago. Golden light beamed from within, casting shadows that mimicked the fierce forms of dragons in flight onto the polished stone walls. Some lanterns flickered so that it seemed flames licked from the dragons’ mouths, giving them an eerie semblance of life.
Dax stepped across the thick, muddy rug that used to be an azure color toward the massive bar, where an ancient dwarf was refilling a mug with amber liquid. With a bushy gray beard that flowed down to his chest and thick curling eyebrows that seemed to possess a life of their own, Rufus Bonewyrm embodied the inn’s rich history and enduring spirit. His eyes, sharp and gleaming like the finest gems, held countless stories of the past, each as captivating as the tales depicted in the shadows cast by the lanterns above.
Resting his hands along the smooth, dark mahogany bar top, Dax waited for Rufus to notice him. He used the time to inspect thewall of bottled spirits, many of which Dax knew were so potent, they were illegal. He knew Rufus mislabeled the bottles so he could hide them in plain sight.
Dax heard Mari gasp from behind him. He turned to see her staring across the wooden tables and chairs filled with patrons at the massive fireplace dominating the other side of the space. The corner of Dax’s mouth lifted in amusement at her complete enthrallment. He had to admit it was a wonder to behold.
The fireplace had a mantle and hearth crafted from ancient dragon scales that retained a subtle iridescence even after all this time. Above the fireplace was a grand tapestry depicting the legendary battle between the last of the great dragons and a legion of fae under General Magnus, the one who had ordered all dragons to be eradicated—a tragic genocide fueled by fear of dominance and power.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rufus said slowly from behind him. Dax turned in time to see the old dwarf grip his bulging belly and laugh with his deep, gritty voice. “Daxon fuckin’ Ironclad!”
Dax laughed at the last name Rufus had bestowed upon him the time he showed up dying on the inn’s doorstep. He tried to push the memory back into the dark crevices of his mind as he gripped the dwarf’s thick, leathery hand.
The last names of those who wereBlessedweren’t necessary since they could reveal which General they were descended from. But for Rufus, last names were the lifeblood of his ancestors. He chose Ironclad for Dax since he had returned from the brink of death—on more than one occasion.
“Stilldodging death, I see.”
“Hah! You know me, old as shit and short as shit.” Rufus let out a hearty bellow and slammed a fist against the bar top. “I’m too ornery to go down. I’d kick the sand too much, wake my neighbors from their eternal slumber.” He continued laughing.
Dax glanced over the counter at the wooden platform hidden behind the barkeep, making Rufus appear taller.
“How’s the leg?”
Rufus lifted his wooden left leg and slammed it down on the platform with a mighty grin. “I’ve only had to replace it twice! The last one was a boating accident—don’t ask.” He shook his head like it was a hell of a story, and Dax was tempted to pester him for it. “Who’s the little lass?” Rufus gestured toward Mari, who was inspecting the fireplace up close, running her long fingers along the dragon scales.
“I’m helping her get to Aurelia. We need a place to stay. Got any rooms?”
