Page 68 of The Lost Prince
If I did enough rituals, maybe I wouldn’t. Perhaps I could even ascend to a god-like status! Could I stop aging, stop bleeding, or stop technically being alive?
The possibilities swirled in my mind, endless.
I would keep my word and help Zariah and Shava, but I also would continue my research. That meant getting back to the palace.
Gathering my wet clothes, I didn’t bother dressing as I felt my way in the semi-darkness back towards the crevice. I’d hang the clothes to dry by the fire, or they could even air dry if the flames had gone out and Zariah was sleeping or away.
Being naked killed no one.
Neither Shava nor D were in the blackened first chamber; not that I blamed them. Once daylight came, we’d have to take stock and see what we’d do about cleaning it.
I barely got outside the cave before running into a pile of gold scales tightly curled up in a ball at the edge of a cliff.
Zariah had crammed himself between the cave’s mouth and the edge of the cliff, D and Shava tucked in between his scales. Shava looked like she’d been sleeping peacefully for hours.
The fire had indeed burned down to nothing more than embers, so I simply threw my tunic and leggings over the hot rocks that outlined the fire.
I took up a spot a few feet down Zariah’s torso, away from the others, leaning back against his body. His scales were pleasantly warm. Now I see why the fire was gone—we didn’t need it as long as we had a living, breathing bed warmer.
I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
* * *
When I woke the next morning, Zariah was gone.
D was happily sketching a rough dragon in the dirt with a stick, and gave me a happy smile when he saw me stirring. He didn’t seem to notice or care that I was naked.
Or maybe mud boys were always naked, so this wasn’t odd to him?
My tunic and breeches were only slightly damp as I put them back on. A slight chill went through me while wearing the moist clothes, but I certainly would not face Shava with all my bits exposed.
Unless that’s what she wanted, of course.
“Where is Shava?” I asked him.
D pointed wordlessly in the cave. Of course.
I stepped inside, ready to do battle, only for a broom to fly at my head. I caught it with a frown, glaring at the small figure who’d already turned her back on me.
“Good morning,” I rumbled, figured it best to start with the obvious.
She huffed, but kept sweeping the ashes towards me and the cave’s mouth. I stood stock still and refused to move out of the way, even as she brushed ashes over my feet.
“Shava.”
I grabbed the handle of her broom, forcing her to stop.
Her elbow came up fast toward my nose, but I expected she’d strike out and blocked it, grabbing it and twisting it behind her back. She squeaked in surprise but doubled down, using the momentum of my twist to go to the ground completely and sweep my legs out from under me with her broom.
I hit the ground on my back, the air momentarily knocked out of me.
“Zariah got us brooms, as you can see. He said he’d be back with some more blankets and whatever else he can find to restock the cave. And breakfast,” she added dispassionately, continuing her sweeping as though I was nothing more than a nuisance child in her way.
I winced as I stood.
“We fight constantly in the mud quarter. Don’t take it personally. We only practice with those we trust most,” she confided, her voice light.
I paused. Was she saying what I thought she was? The honest bewilderment on my face must have shown through in my expression.
