Blood of Dragons

His ploy to distract her with a daydream failed. ‘Do you think the dragons will help our baby?’ she asked in a low voice.



He gave up his ruse. The same question had been torturing him. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’ He tried to sound surprised at her question.



‘Because they are dragons.’ She sounded weary and discouraged. ‘Because they may be heartless. As Tintaglia was heartless. She left her own kind helpless and starving. She made my little brother her singer, enchanted him with her glamour and then sent him off into the unknown. She did not seem to care when Selden vanished. She changed us and left us and never cared what it did to our lives.’



‘She is a dragon,’ Reyn conceded. ‘But only one. Perhaps the others are different.’



‘They were not different when I visited them at Cassarick. They were petty and selfish.’



‘They were miserable and hungry and helpless. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who was miserable, hungry and helpless who was not also petty and selfish. The situation brings out the worst in everyone.’



‘But what if the dragons won’t help Phron? What will we do then?’



He pulled her closer. ‘Let’s not borrow trouble from tomorrow. For right now, he lives and he sleeps. I think you should eat something and then you should sleep, too.’



‘I think you should both eat something and then go sleep together in the cabin. I’ll stay here with Phron.’



Reyn lifted his eyes and smiled over Malta’s head at his sister. ‘Bless you, Tillamon. You truly don’t mind?’



‘Not at all.’ Her hair was loose around her shoulders and a gust of wind blew a stray lock across her face. She pushed it back and the simple gesture of baring her face caught his eye. There was colour in her cheeks and it suddenly came to Reyn that his sister looked younger and more alive than she had in years. He spoke without thinking, ‘You look happy.’



Her expression changed to stricken. ‘No. No, Reyn, I fear just as much as you do for Phron!’



Malta shook her head slowly. Her smile was sad but genuine. ‘Sister, I know you do. You are always here to help us. But that doesn’t mean you should not be happy with what you have found on this journey. Neither I nor Reyn resent that you’ve …’



Malta’s voice tapered off as she glanced at him. Reyn knew that his face was frozen in confusion. ‘Found what?’ he demanded.



‘Love,’ Tillamon said simply. She met her brother’s stare directly.



Reyn’s thoughts raced as his mind rapidly reinterpreted snatches of overheard conversations and moments glimpsed between Tillamon and … ‘Hennesey?’ he asked, caught between amazement and dismay. ‘Hennesey, the first mate?’ His tone conveyed all that his words did not say. His sister, a Trader-born woman, taking up with a common sailor? One with the air of a man used to womanizing?



Her mouth went flat and her eyes unreadable. ‘Hennesey. And it’s none of your business, little brother. I came of age years ago. I make my own choices now.’



‘But—’



‘I am so tired,’ Malta suddenly interjected, turning in his embrace. ‘Please, Reyn. Let’s take this chance Tillamon is giving us to share a bed and some rest. It’s been days since I’ve slept beside you, and I always rest better when you are near me. Come.’



She tugged at his arm and he turned unwillingly to follow her. Getting her to rest was more important than quarrelling with his sister. Later, they could talk in private. In silence he followed her toward the chamber they would share. It was little more than a large cargo crate secured to the deck. Within was a pallet that had served them alternately as a bed. He did look forward to rest and to holding Malta as she slept. He had come to hate sleeping alone.



It was as if Malta could read his thoughts. ‘Let her be, Reyn. Think of what we have and how it comforts us. How can we resent Tillamon seeking the same?’



‘But … Hennesey?’



‘A man who works hard and loves what he does. A man who sees her and smiles at her rather than grinning mockingly or turning away. I think he’s sincere, Reyn. And even if he is not, Tillamon is right. She is a woman grown and has been for years. It is not for us to say to whom she should entrust her heart.’



He drew breath to voice objections then sighed it out as Malta lifted the latch on the door. The airless little compartment suddenly looked inviting and cosy. His need for rest and for holding her flooded up through his body.



‘Time enough later to worry. While we can sleep, we should.’