Page 22 of The Dragon Sacrifice

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They ran back to the door and the safety of their caves. Seela barely registered how they got there or who locked them in. Her one concern was Jerrard. He was so pale, like there was no blood left in his veins. His face was slack. Despite what Stenton said, he appeared dead.

“So much blood,” Stenton murmured, setting his brother down on the settee. “If only he could shift.”

“But he can’t,” Seela said. This was her fault. All her fault.

Stenton began ripping Jerrard’s clothes off, tossing the shredded rags to the floor. Langdon appeared with jars smelling of herbs, much like something she would’ve found in her mother’s pantry.

“Which should I use?” he asked Stenton in a voice more helpless than she’d ever heard from him.

Stenton shrugged. “Jerrard’s the one who knows medicinal herbs.”

Without thinking, Seela jogged forward. “I can help.”

Langdon offered her the jars in his hands before going back for more. Seela took turns sniffing each, trying to determine what made up each poultice. She decided on one that smelled the most like what her mother would use for wounds, but as she began applying it to Jerrard’s chest, doubt fell over her. This had to work. It had to.

Seela didn’t know how long she stood applying the tincture. There were so many bites. It was as if the monsters had treated Jerrard like a banquet. How he was still alive was a mystery, something tied into his magical dragon blood.

When she finally raised her weary head from the last doctored wound, she realized she had been at it for a very long time. Stenton and Langdon glanced up from where they had been reclining against the kitchen counter.

“What can we do?” Langdon said. His expression was drawn, his eyes exhausted.

Seela glanced at her work, placing her fingers to Jerrard’s neck. “His pulse is low but stable. We need to let him rest.”

Both men nodded. Stenton stood up. “You need rest. You’ve been at this for hours.”

Seela shook her head. “What if he wakes up and needs me?”

“Langdon will stay with him,” Stenton said, glancing at his brother. He nodded in agreement.

Langdon put a protective hand on Jerrard’s shoulder. “If anything happens, I’ll come and get you.”

Stenton touched her arm lightly. “Let me get you some food, let you get cleaned up.”

Seela was grimy, tired, and famished, but it felt wrong to leave Jerrard. Still, the brothers insisted, Stenton gently tugging her away from the common area and leading her down one of the dimly lit hallways.

They stopped at another wooden door. Stenton opened it and stepped inside, holding it open for her. Inside was a bedroom, though, unlike Langdon’s, it was immaculately decorated. This space had high ceilings hung with candelabras of gold and silver. A plush couch sat next to a wooden end table with a wine decanter on top. Two goblets waited beside it as if he’d known they would be coming.

The far wall drew her attention next. Stenton had a gallery of paintings, all very old, depicting what seemed to be the royal family. There was Jerrard as a young man atop a horse. Stenton and Langdon as children beside a very beautiful woman in a gown fit for a queen. Only one painting showed a giant dragon, black and thorny with an impenetrable gaze. Seela thought that might be their father, the dragon king.

Seela whirled around, taking in the splendor. “This is really beautiful.”

Stenton peered up from the wine he was pouring into the metal goblets. “It’s the best I could do with what we have. They haven’t provided us with furniture allotments since King Borost.”

Seela’s eyes widened. “He died thirty years ago.”

Stenton nodded. “Now you see why my sheets are so threadbare.” He gestured to his bed in the corner, a mattress on the floor covered in silken pillows and blankets. More like a nest than a bed. Very fitting for a dragon.

“Here’s something I don’t understand,” Seela said, taking the wine he offered her and sipping it. “Why would they give you a woman every year if they wanted you dead? Aren’t they giving you exactly what you need to break the curse?”

“Not if the horde can get to her first, as they have every time except for you,” Stenton said, arching a brown eyebrow. He went on to explain. “The pact only works if they uphold their end of the magical bargain. Humans cannot kill us. Humans cannot harm us. They must provide certain things for us like human females each year in the hope that one might break the curse. Or bring the wrath of our Father.”

Seela frowned. “But the beasts.”

“The beasts are their little way of breaking the bargain without breaking it. Humans can’t harm us, but those monsters they created can. Clever humans. Evil and clever.” He tapped on his temple, an ironic smile on his face.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

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