Page 60 of A Scar in the Bone
“You’re going to have to move on someday. The pride is your family now whether you realize it or not … and your family needs you.” He paused and cleared his throat as though something was stuck there, getting in the way of his voice. “Ineed you.”
He pushed the flap aside and vanished, leaving me alone with my wildly pulsing hand and my wilder thoughts.
I would not think of it, I vowed. Not his words or his lips or his touch.
I would forget all about this night and him.
15
TAMSYN
WINTER CAME EARLY.
It brought more than the usual snow. Not the snow of the previous winter. Not the snow that covered the ground and rugged peaks year-round. There was nothing crisp and refreshing about it.Thissnow was brutal and smothering even for dragons who thrived in the cold.
An unexpected squall took everyone by surprise, forcing us inside and keeping us there, like ants hiding from a tidal wave. The storm made flight impossible and braving the ground on foot in such conditions was also not an option.
As the world outside howled, we hunkered down in our caves and stayed busy, waiting for the blinding whiteness outside to pass. Apparently even dragons, with all our many talents and adaptabilities, with an affinity for life in the Crags, had our limits.
Everyone was on edge. We were wild at our core, and this forced captivity, even with all our amenities and a surplus of supplies, went against our nature.
We needed to stretch our wings. Literally.
Training in the arena turned especially violent—an outlet for all our pent-up energy. Bones cracked. Skin broke. Blood sprayed the air. Brenna was there to mend and put bodies back together as best as she could. The infirmary was always full, and the verdaberry wine flowed, a balm for the body and soul.
In the moments someone was carried out of the arena, I would look to Vetr to see if he would call a halt to it all and put an end tothe brutality, but he merely watched on, thick arms crossed resolutely over his chest, his jaw locked tight, tension humming from him in a way I’d never observed, and I wondered if he, too, was feeling the restlessness, the desperate struggle from being penned in, trapped. Or was it something else that made him look molded from the stony mountain surrounding us?
We could do nothing but wait.
Wait as it raged for days.
A week passed, and I was allowed to begin training again, although with limitations and the heavy weight of Vetr’s eyes on me, as though he would step in at any time if he thought I was overdoing it.
I continued about my duties, eating my meals in my designated seat and listening to Kerstin chatter beside me. I worked my body to the point of exhaustion and drank deeply of verdaberry wine at dinner in the hopes that my sleep might be free of Fell-ridden nightmares. I tried to ignore the whispering skin in my marked palm that continued to make itself felt. Tried not to think of Vetr and his words. Tried my best to stay beneath anyone’s notice in this fraught time when the air felt thin and tasted of ice, blood, and sweat … as though if I faded into the background, Vetr would forget about me. Just as I willed myself to forget about him.
I want to savor all of you.
I need you.
Easier said than done.
I PASSED THROUGHthe gathering room with a basket of laundry balanced on my hip. In the damp cold, it took longer for clothes to dry, so I was glad to finally find my garments dry enough to take down off the line in the laundry chamber.
The mist was patchy, gusting low at my boots as I walked. The perpetual fog had eased with the squall raging outside. Vetr, and our other shader, Vestar, weren’t emitting the usual amount of vapor. There was no need for that layer of protection in weatherlike this, when the snow provided more than enough cover. No one would be venturing out to explore the Crags or wage an attack in such conditions. Warriors from Veturland would not journey so far from home in this clime, even if they were accustomed to the cold.
In the summer months, we had spotted the lines of them in their signature winged helmets marching through on their way to Penterra, sent by their king to wage battle and strike their enemy to the south.
The truce we had entered into with the skelm seemed to be holding. There had been no encounters, even when opportunities presented themselves and members of each pride spotted each other.
The baby cried out, and I looked across the gathering area. It was nice to hear the sound. It made life feel almost ordinary in this place where ordinary did not exist.
I did not often see the child. Usually, she was already down for the night when we ate our dinner, asleep in a crib not far from the head table and Brenna’s watchful eyes, and I never crossed paths with her during the day as my tasks didn’t involve the nursery, where she spent much of her time.
The pride’s single child represented hope. The future. The next generation. I paused, craning my neck for a glimpse of her, my gaze searching. There. Brenna wore her strapped to her chest as she sat at the table, sorting herbs into bunches and then tying them off with twine.
The baby made a grab for her mother’s hands as they moved before her, but Brenna dodged the little one’s grasping, chubby fingers. It slowed her progress, to be sure, but from the gentle smile on Brenna’s face, she did not mind.
I felt my smile slip as Vetr approached and stopped beside them. They exchanged a few words, inaudible at this distance. Then he was reaching for the baby, his big hands sliding around her little body and lifting her up out of the harness as though it were the most natural thing for him to do.
