Page 10 of A Matter of Destiny

“Not me,” I gasp. “Mother. My mother. My house. Needs help. Ailen’s help.”

Eadberh’s massive hand closes over mine. He looks at me with a sort of expression that makes me think of battlefields, of moonlight oaths sworn in the names of the old gods.

“We will help,” he says.

Then his face begins to break apart, drifting into tiny, luminescent sparks of color. I hear him call for Ailen, then something else, and then all sounds fade into the dull, rhythmic thud of the ocean against the shore, the incessant drumbeat of the sea, or of blood pounding through veins, of life that will not surrender.

* * *

I’maware of birdsong first, and then of the soft, buttery light filtering through my eyelids. And then pain sings through my body, brilliant, white, and as bright as lightning. I hiss as my muscles pull tight. Someone clucks sympathetically.

“Bitch of a wound,” a man says.

His voice is very, very close to me. My eyes struggle to open, and then, finally, light fills the world. Light frames Eadberh’s face, washing over his pursed lips and the wrinkle in his brow. He’s frowning at my shoulder.

“Serrated blade?” he asks.

His eyes flicker up to mine. They’re a delicate shade of brown, almost golden. I nod as some of the pain leaks from my body, leaving the rest of me as weak as a newborn kitten.

“I’m sorry,” Eadberh says as he lifts a square of white, astringent-smelling gauze. “This is going to sting.”

I nod again. It’s exhausting. Eadberh lifts the gauze to my shoulder, and pain rolls over me in waves. I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of sunlight. Eadberh holds the gauze over the hole in my shoulder like he’s pressing a branding iron against my flesh, and then he exhales sharply and pulls back. The pain slowly eases. I let my eyes flicker open.

Eadberh’s watching me with an eyebrow raised and a strange expression on his face. I take a few shivering breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning above me. It’s strangely familiar, this little room with its cheerful curtains, but it’s only when I let my gaze drift back to Eadberh that my memories shift into place.

This was Eadberh’s room. The last time I saw him, Eadberh was in this very bed, his leg almost mummified in bandages, and I was telling him that I had to get to Valgros. He’d laughed and told me to just ask Rayne for help.She’s got a soft spot as fat as a dragon, he’d said.

Yes. Well. For some people, I suppose she did. The thought sends a bolt of pain through my chest that’s nothing at all like the agony that just scorched my shoulder, but is no less intense. Wonderful. I hiss through my teeth. Eadberh gives me a strange little smile as he wipes his hands on a clean cloth.

“You dragons are tough,” Eadberh says.

He makes it sound like a compliment. I start to shrug, then wince as the skin of my shoulder pulls tight.

“I sewed you up as best as I could,” Eadberh continues, “but that’s always going to leave a scar. Nasty wound.”

I let my head sink back on the pillows as my eyes drift toward the ceiling. My body feels tired and weak, but pain runs through me like embers smoldering in the grate, ready to burst into life should I dare to move.

“You made quite the entrance,” Eadberh says. He still has an eyebrow raised. I can’t tell if that’s because he’s asking me a question or laughing at me. “I’ve never seen so many people trying to get in here. I was about ready to bar the door.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

Eadberh makes a sound that’s almost a laugh. “It’s no problem. I told them what, they’ve never seen a dragon before?”

A dragon. I let my eyes slide closed. They certainly had never seen my dragon before. I’d been so careful to keep that side of myself hidden, buried beneath layers and layers of dusty antiquities. Just another relic from a world that had long ago faded into the past.

“At any rate, it’s good for business,” Eadberh continues. “You wouldn’t believe how many people have stopped in this morning, just asking about star charts and opening Ailen’s herb jars as if maybe we’d hidden you away in one of them.”

He chuckles. Star charts. Dragons. This morning. A question explodes inside my skull, and I jerk up, releasing a fresh wave of agony from my shoulder.

“Mother!” I gasp.

“She’s fine,” Eadberh says, meeting my gaze. There’s something strangely comforting about his golden eyes. “Ailen hasn’t left her side. She went up there as soon as you arrived, and she sent two runners in the night for more supplies. They say your mother is stable. She’s resting.”

I struggle against the damn pillows surrounding me, and pain pulls my body tight.

“Got to get back to her,” I pant.

Eadberh’s hand closes around my wrist, soft and warm and as strong as iron.

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