Page 100 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
I shift my weight from foot to foot as I stand before the hearth, letting its warmth fight off the natural chill of Umbra Castle. Restless energy roils through me. I need to pace. To bounce my leg. But the chains still shackled to my ankles ensure that even those small movements are utterly exhausting prospects.
And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to wield the Earth required to free myself from their clasp.
Rowan, I whisper within the darkness of my mind for the fifth time, desperately trying to reach my unlikely goblin ally. "Believing you can is the first step to weaving." That is what Bene said.
I don’t yet know what the other steps are, but I am determined to find out.
I picture the brown-skinned creature in my mind, carefully forming every detail: his sharp teeth, his leathery skin, his sorrowful, yellow eyes, his pitiful, scraggly hair.
With his image firmly fixed, I imagine plucking up a thread of Mind, fastening one end to my own thoughts, and firing the other end toward him—a shooting star filled with intent.
“Rowan!”
The doors to my bedroom crack open, revealing a glimpse of the goblin’s narrow face. “There’s no need to shout,Therya’fey,” he croaks, sounding perturbed.
My heart flutters. It worked! It actually worked.
Oh, I can’t wait to tell Bene. He will be so proud to hear I have managed to weave another element…
That was dream Bene, I remind myself, my mood dampening.
Real Bene does not hold me in his lap and kiss away my tears.
I raise my hands to my face and rub my fingers against my temples, warding off another headache. Everything is becoming so muddled.
“Is Ghoul with you?” I mouth soundlessly, afraid to ask the question aloud.
Rowan narrows his eyes, shaking his head.
My excitement returns. Finally, my luck is looking up.
“Come in,” I implore when he remains lingering at the door, merely squinting at me. “I need your help with something.”
The goblin grunts, suspicion still pinching his features. After a few more moments of hesitation, he finally shambles into the room and shuts the door behind him.
Baring his sharp fangs at me in an expression that is either supposed to be a smile or a grimace, he rasps, “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to ask me to do something that’ll get me killed?”
I wince. “Probably because I need you to weave Earth for me to unmake my shackles.”
“Can’t help you,Therya’fey,” he claims without even pausing to consider. “I can’t weave Earth.”
“Yes, you can,” I gently counter. “Or do you mean to tell me another goblin infused an Earth weave into the salve you stole from Malice?”
Rowan stares at me for all of a heartbeat before turning on his heel and grasping the doorknob, preparing to go.
“Wait!” I cry out, louder than intended.
He freezes.
“Please, Rowan… I need your help.” I wring my hands together, as if that motion alone might help me conjure up the words I need to convince this creature that he should endanger his own well-being for my sake.
But why should he?
I have no answer. Rowan owes me nothing.
If anything, I owe him.
That thought bubbles up within my thoughts and sticks, refusing to be ignored.
