Page 36 of Rejected By Dragons

Everyone in Wynrath Crest took one look at me and decided I was an outsider. Part of that I probably brought upon myself, but the cruelty of their constant exclusion, their bullying, their plain old meanness...it broke something inside of me. A random stranger showing me so much kindness doesn't make sense.

Amy smiles and shrugs. "Because you look like you need a friend."

With that, she closes the door.

I strip naked. I want to burn the things I was wearing, but instead, I kick them into a pile in the corner. Hopefully they'll let me use their washing machine before they send me on my way.

I step under the spray. It's heavenly. Hot and clean and incredible. I lather my hair three times and wash my body about four. Only once I've scrubbed myself raw do I allow myself to bask beneath the falling water.

The second I close my eyes, the past couple of weeks crash over me. I see Storm and hear Brynn, and I cower in my rusted, old, stolen car, watching a winged figure in silhouette against the sky.

The first sob takes me by surprise. I don't know what I'm mourning anymore. I must have cried myself out over Storm by now, but his rejection is still a hole in my heart. And then there's everything I've lost. I release the fear and tension of being an exile, traveling alone and unprotected through unclaimed territory. The relative safety I find myself in, here, in this moment, won't last. But I allow it to take me away. For a few, precious minutes, I don't have to be strong. So I fall apart.

The shower washes my tears to my feet, where they flow down the drain.

Finally spent, I soap my face up once more. I turn off the tap, and the silence echoes around me with force. Shaking, I get out. There are soft, fluffy towels set on the sink, and I'm so grateful I can scarcely stand it. I dry myself off, wrap a towel under my arms and open the door.

The guest room is empty, the door shut. A small pile of neatly folded clothes sits at the foot of the bed, along with a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a toothbrush. I set the clothes aside and devour the food. Once my belly is full, I brush my teeth, reveling at feeling clean and full and safe.

Then I drop the towel on the floor. I push back the covers of the bed and sink into it. I have half a second to wonder if I can sleep with it so bright outside, before my eyes flutter closed.

Between one blink and the next, I'm out.

Chapter Eleven

EMBER

When I wake up, it's still light outside, though it's shining in from a different angle, so I must have been out for a while. I stretch my body out long, reveling in how good I feel. My back doesn't hurt at all, and I feel rested for the first time since I left the Air Kingdom. Hell, maybe longer.

I rise and make my way to the bathroom where I find my phone in the pile of dirty clothes I shed. It's critically low on batteries. Here's hoping Amy got that phone-charger-finding potion working, because I'm going to need to borrow one, too. It'd be great to have a full battery before I hit the road.

I go to blank the screen. Then I spot the time.

The phone slips out of my hand. I curse and flail, just barely managing to catch it before it smashes into the tile floor.

It's seven-thirty. In the morning.

I blink rapidly, setting my phone down on the counter. Well, I guess that explains how well-rested I feel. I just crashed for sixteen hours.

Shaking my head at myself, I take care of business, then wash my hands and splash some water on my face. I regard myself in the mirror. Dark circles still linger beneath my eyes, though they're dramatically less deep than they were. My usually fair complexion is sun-kissed from a couple of weeks in the desert, and it's possible I've lost a bit of weight, but not in a good way. Exhaustion, dehydration, and losing your will to live are a shitty diet plan.

I sigh as I run my hands through my hair. It's a tangled mess; I really should have done something with it before crashing, but oh well. I finger-comb it out the best I can.

I return to the bedroom and sort through the neatly folded stack of clothes that Amy left for me. I got a glimpse at her closet on my way in yesterday, and it was packed full of items in every color and style. Somehow, she's picked out a variety of basics that are exactly to my taste, not to mention in exactly my size. My eyes sting for a second. She's really been so kind to me. I don't know how I'm going to repay her, but I resolve to find a way.

Dressed in a cropped black T and dark green pants, I open the door and peek outside. Both Rhiannon and Amy's doors stand open. Everything seems to be quiet, but I think I hear movement downstairs, so I head in that direction.

Sure enough, Amy's in the kitchen, wearing a thin, off-the-shoulder, charcoal sweater and black and white plaid pajama pants. Her pink hair up in a messy bun, she's standing over a little copper pot that's simmering on the stove, muttering under her breath as she sprinkles in a pinch of blue powder.

Not wanting to startle her, I do my best to make some noise as I approach. She glances over her shoulder, grinning when she spots me. "Good morning, sleepy head."

I feel a little self-conscious about crashing so hard yesterday, but she clearly doesn't mind. "Thanks again for insisting. I really was exhausted."

"Duh." She holds up a finger. "Give me just one second."

Returning her attention to the pot, she stirs it in a circle three times before turning off the heat. She checks what I thought was a cookbook yesterday, but which is apparently a spell book. Nodding to herself, she decants a dark, blue-green liquid into a glass vial and sets it aside.

"Trying the locator potion again?" I ask.

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