Page 98 of A City of Flames

“Why am I here?” I demand, but my voice comes across hoarse as I sit up from a pile of blankets. Suddenly I wince at the dull pain in my lower abdomen, and as I glance at it, my fingers feather over the newly wrapped bandages.

“Because I saved your life,” Comes Darius’s answer, sharp and deadly. I whip my head up and gaze at the far end of what looks to be a cottage where Darius rests one leg on the wooden table, sinking back against the chair. His golden-skinned chest peeks through his black linen shirt, and not knowing what to do, the first thing I search for is a weapon.

“If you’re looking for something to stab me with—” He doesn’t look my way as he flips a coin. “—I’d advise against it. I’m not up for winning another fight with you.”

It was him, the dragon who’d fought the creature. He took me back to his house. “Why did you save me?” A whisper of some sort.

“I was feeling heroic.” Eyes dart to me, and he grins. “If I wanted you dead, I would have done it myself a long time ago.”

I narrow my eyes, shifting between him and my sheath lying in the middle of the table. “You first told me you preferred the idea of hunting me down, and here months later, you’ve saved me. Even bargained with me though you lied straight to my face about it, and then... then you gifted my brother the crystal I helped you steal from Tarron in order to pay off my debt.”

He chuckles, looking away. “I see that my powers were too weak to work on your brother then.”

In the corner, Tibith scarfs down bread on his small made bed, entirely in a world of his own. I take a forceful deep breath, staring at Darius. “I’d have found out eventually.”

He shrugs it off. “Eventually.”

Annoyed, I say, “not to mention how you used your Merati powers on me after the ball when I dreamt—” I stop when his frown meets my glare.

“Merati powers?” He says, trying not to laugh. Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks when he adds, “Goldie, I may have used my glamor on you once, but I’ve not used it since.”

So, I had dreamed of us in the throne room on my own accord...

For Solaris’s sake.

“Well.” My voice cracks, adding to my humiliation. “You should know that I find you incredibly annoying, like a persistent cough that won’t go away.”

“And you’re always so rude, Goldie. Never a ‘thank you, Darius, for all the times you’ve saved me from certain death’ with you.”

“Twice.” I have the need to remind him, not wasting my time to scold him on his high-pitch imitation. “You’ve only saved me twice.”

“Good to know you can count.” He catches the coin in his hand, causing it to make a clinking noise. “I was beginning to think your brain could only comprehend the simplest of things.”

Funny, very funny.

I pinch my face into a forceful smile at him. He’s a thief, an impertinent one, and maybe he’s killed, done everything to survive for twenty-five years. But dangerous enough to hide away from him and make him out to be the worst sounds like it’s what he wants others to believe.

At least from what I’ve witnessed so far.

“How did you know where I was?” I ask with a sigh, offering a change of subjects.

His boot slides off the table, and this time I notice the black walnut wood, expensive but beautiful to carve on. “I was nearby and caught your scent up until you covered yourself in mud,” he says. “Though it appears this creature can cover their scents just like us shifters.”

I nod slowly, looking at the dried-up mud still all over me. Remnants of a moment where I felt twelve years old again. “Is the—is the creature—”

“Dead?” He finishes off and shakes his head. “No... It retreated to wherever it came from.” A tick in his jaw makes me believe he’s disappointed that he didn’t get to kill it.

We don’t speak for a few heartbeats until I notice a cut on his wrist, fresh but healing fast. I look at the bandages on my stomach and ask, “Did you do this?”

“You were feverish, and your wound wasn’t going to heal on its own, so... I gave you some of my blood.”

My brows shoot up as I mutter, “Ironic.” And watch his lips twitch at that before I’m stretching my legs. I then steady myself onto my feet and press my lips together, hiding a wince though somewhat of a grunt escapes.

Darius is off the chair by the time I’m fully standing, making his way towards me. My head tilts up to meet his heavy gaze, and a sudden flicker in my stomach goes off as his palm skims my back.

I distance myself in a matter of seconds, wrapping my arms across my wound. “I um—I can stand on my own.”

He rubs the nape of his neck, and I’m surprised he’s not giving me any hint of playfulness or mockery for that. He glances back at the table as he says, “you should wash that mud off.” Averting his eyes, he gestures his head behind me. “There are spare clothes over there if you want to change into something else.”

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