Chapter Seven
“You know what this means,” Mordred said, holding out a black-sleeved arm to her. She threaded her left elbow through his right, and they amiably began their stroll through the outside lake. “With your lightweaving now able to encase you.”
“That I'll make a great target to practise shooting at?”
His lips twitched upward before he said, “You could come with me to some of the dangerous patrols in the Endless Dark. If you're looking for some more adventure. I know how much you like getting into crazy situations.”
She punched him in the elbow, and a passing Highborn couple glared at them. “Mostly I get into crazy situations by accident. It's not my fault if I step into a rope snare or get locked up in a carriage or make people want to kill me. These things just kind of happen.”
“Yes, but they seem to happen to you in particular.”
“Oh, shut up.” Kiara pretended to pout, her white-gloved hands now clutching his right elbow tightly. She deliberately changed the rhythm of their steps as well, so that they now swayed as they walked.
They continued walking with that pleasant air, and Kiara found herself thinking a little of her sister, wondering when she planned to arrive and disrupt the Kanthian Highborn further. The king and queen had finally received a letter from her, though it came in the form of a half invitation, half warning from Kiara's mother. Something along the lines of: Another daughter of ours has decided she wants to set up shop in Kanthus. Would you mind accommodating her, because like dark we can't control her.
The message read politer than that, of course, but it did contain that gist. The Kanthian king and queen agreed. Probably because the prospect of having another odd lightweaver potentially making powerful babies together meant a lot to them.
Plus, they did say that the last werewolf to be born was about fifteen years ago, thanks to the infertility of the Highborn women, and perhaps the weakened blood of their population in general.
The king and queen believed her to be settled in, happy with one of their sons.
Truthfully, though, Kiara suspected that wherever she went, she'd never quite fit in. The odd one who knew no proper lightweavings, but did know to cover her body in a thin, gleaming layer of light, which made her resemble a human lantern but did serve the purpose of protecting her. Winifred found the ability incredible. Though Kiara still thought Winifred's skills formidable. She grasped lightweaving in a way that Kiara knew she never would. Her brain simply wasn't wired that way. It was wired for other things. It worked better for other things. Just not what everyone else wanted from her.
Her boots pressed into the soft grasses around the lake, and the light unfolded like a fine mist. Glowing tadpoles flitted near the banks, and luminescent frogs hopped along the grass or sank into the waters. The sweet aroma of lavenders, lit to their true colors, gave a heady, relaxing sensation to Kiara. She leaned on Mordred's arm, enjoying the closeness, the bond they had developed.
Walks in the dome or around the lakes, sometimes out to the fenlands or the green swamp, occupied some of the better moments of her new life. Talks with Winifred, drinks with Vasha took up the others.
Less great were the ones who still found fault with Kiara's alliance to Mordred. Her stomach twinged slightly when she saw a gaggle of some of the worst offenders, talking to one another by a huge horse-drawn carriage, either departing or having arrived some moments before. Five Highborn, three of them women, two of them men. None of them happy with her.
One also happened to be Lady Essen, the one who Kiara insulted for her nose size and waspish features. Even with Mordred helping to shrug everything off as a joke, the privileged Highborn never quite got over it. Barely any of the Highborn seemed to understand Fjorn humor. Which put Kiara at a disadvantage.
“Ah,” Essen said, spotting Mordred and Kiara, just as Kiara had tried discreetly steering Mordred away, “my prince and lady.” She gave a short curtsey, spreading out her white dress with her hands. She kept her eyes averted from Mordred, and the other two women began to chuckle behind their hands. The two men gave steely, unimpressed stares towards Kiara, and she felt her cheeks burning. Again. Really, she needed to control that reflex. Bethany knew how to control her stupid features.
Mordred, aware of the animosity of Essen towards his wife, gave a sigh. “What appears to be the issue?”
For some people, being directly addressed by a werewolf in such a manner might terrify them. For Essen, she merely fluttered her eyelashes.
“I'm sorry, my prince. You see, it's not appropriate for me to look at you. After all, you and the Fjorn princess haven't even consummated your marriage yet, have you?”
Mordred bristled at this, and Kiara wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Instead, her face went rigid. “That's nonsense,” Mordred said. “If this isn't obvious to you that we're husband and wife, you must be mistaken.”
“Gossip gets around,” Essen said, unperturbed. “The servants know things. They know that you took her in to save face, to stop her from being ridiculed by the Highborn. They talk about you being soft, of not asserting your true nature. They talk about finding you a proper wife, one willing to perform and provide for you the children you need.” She relished the words proper wife, and flicked her gaze to Kiara as she enunciated them.
Kiara knew some of those servants had bat ears. She trusted Winifred not to spread word around, but not for those hungry for news, looking for any way to sabotage what they believed to be a faulty alliance. Maybe more people didn't mind her, but Kiara simply didn't care about the Highborn court long enough to make any real amends to the others. Even though she knew she should, even though she knew the Kanthian king and queen approved of her.
She understood then the pressure on Mordred—the true risk he took to help her out.
“Are you really that stupid, or are you just pretending?” The words slipped out of Kiara's mouth before she could stop them. “We have an entire world swamped by the Endless Dark, we should be teaming together, and all you can think of is how to belittle me and insult one of your gods?”
Essen flushed, but said, teeth gritted, “The only belittling and insulting going on is your presence here in Kanthus. We don't need you. It makes us look weak to even consider this alliance, and you've stolen a god from us. One you won't even sleep with.”
“Not to mention your ill manners,” another woman said, and the men nodded in agreement.
“See, this is why it's so easy to offend you. You lot think far too highly of yourselves.” Kiara couldn't resist it now—she accessed her lightweaving, instantly letting it cocoon her whole body in a blaze of light. Essen blinked wildly but stood her ground, and Kiara stalked right up to her.
“Mordred, darling,” Kiara said, “would I get into trouble if I punched her in the face?”
Mordred chortled, but shook his head. “I recommend you not to do that, Princess. You might cause a scene.”
“Well, clearly words don't work with these idiots.”
One of the Highborn men, however, said, “You think that's going to scare us? Casting some kind of weaving around your body?”
Kiara considered him for a moment, then snapped her hand out, deciding to go for a slap to his shoulder. The red-haired man gasped, reeling to the side, yellow eyes bulging. “Dare you to hit me,” Kiara said.
Mordred went to seize Kiara by the shoulder, trying not to laugh out loud. “Now, now, my bloodthirsty little wife, let's not beat up half the Highborn court.”
The man who had been slapped to the side shrugged off his friend's help and strode right up to Kiara. “That's impossible,” he said. “Hold out your hand.”
Kiara exchanged a look with Mordred, then did so. Instantly, the young Highborn punched Kiara, then gasped and buckled over. “That's impossible!” Although he exclaimed this, there was also a gleam of admiration in his eyes.
“People tell me that a lot,” Kiara admitted. “I usually just ignore them and keep doing it anyway.”
“It's solid!” The Highborn held up his uninjured hand. “Wait. Please. I want to look at this. I've never seen anything like it.”
“If you apologize to my wife,” Mordred growled, and the man nodded, stumbling over an apology before he continued his inspection. Now one of the women came over, ignoring Essen's glares, and even the carriage driver stared, jaw hanging open slightly.
They still didn't like her. But they did at least admire her lightweaving.
“This is unheard of,” the man said. “Except perhaps in stories. Light made solid.”
“Don't get too excited about it,” Kiara said, giving him a wry smile. “So far I can only wrap it around myself. Also I skipped all the other levels. Can't even attach light to a stone.”
“Well,” the man said, “pretty much no one who has lightweaving can do this. But you always find oddities. People who can do things they shouldn't.” He tapped her back, creating the pure note. “I don't think it's a case of skipping all the levels as it is rising up entirely new levels. Like another branch of lightweaving.”
He seemed to be utterly consumed by scholarly interest, and Mordred just folded his arms, amused and baffled at the same time. Eventually, the Highborn were dragged away into the carriage, mostly urged by Essen, leaving Mordred and a glowing Kiara behind.
“I don't know if you deliberately intend to antagonize everyone in the court,” Mordred eventually said, “or if you're just too impulsive for your own good. Not all ideas are good, just because you feel the need to do them, you know.”
“Hmm.” Kiara let the weaving go, feeling chastised. “Do you think what I did was childish?”
“A little. We would have been best to keep going, I think. There's no telling how they'll take this. Perhaps make out that you assaulted them and persist in spreading the rumor around that we're not doing the husband and wife thing as well as we want everyone to believe.”
Kiara tapped her boot on the softly glowing green, even as the carriage began to roll away. “Well, I can think of one way to dispel some of the rumors...” She gave him a grin, though a part of her lurched in fright, asking herself if she really intended to go through with this.
“Oh?” He shared her smile, stepping a little closer. “How's that, then?”
Dark take us, Kiara thought, before rolling to the balls of her feet and reaching up to kiss him on the lips. She did have to make sure she suppressed her panic reflex, the one that accidentally blocked her from the moment last time. His arms folded around her, and they touched one another's lips for the first time.
Such soft and pliable material. Such a kissable mouth. How had she waited so long to taste this? How had he waited so long to claim her, to make his mark?
“Let's,” she whispered, withdrawing herself long enough from his mouth to breathe, slightly dazed, “take this someplace else, shall we?”
“Let's,” he agreed, his voice slurred as if drunk. They stepped back to regard one another, before erupting into grins, holding hands, and dashing back to the palace.
She barely managed to get Mordred's door closed before he went for her, pressing her back against the wood, eagerly consuming her lips, her heat. Kiara's heart hammered at a breakneck pace, and she needed the support of the door to stop her legs from giving out under her.
She didn't know that much about sex, but she did know a thing or two about going along with whatever impulse and feeling burned through her. And her impulse right now was to tear those clothes off, to feel the press of his warmth against her, to let them share everything together. He touched her neck, her cheek, her ear with those soft, searing lips, hands now taking the opportunity to explore over her clothes, the simple black dress she wore, perhaps seeking out bare skin.
He bent to reach the bottom of her dress and hitched it up, now running those hands over trembling skin. She let out a sharp exhale, before scrambling to take his clothes off, to get him moving towards the softly glowing bed, to do what they were overdue for.
By the time they did reach the bed, Mordred had lost his jacket and shirt, leaving his chest gloriously exposed. His necklace fell behind him onto the red sheets as she pushed him onto them and straddled him, just wanting to be near him, to keep the feeling going, and the bolts of energy crackling through her stomach.
“This—stupid—dress,” he growled, now trying to tug her out of it, “how are you supposed to take it off?”
She laughed, before starting to unbutton it from the side connection, until it slipped off in a puddle, leaving her in her shift, panties and stockings. He let out a soft growl when seeing the small points in her shift, protruding from her barely concealed breasts, and quickly yanked that off, too. He rolled them so that now he lay on top, his body between her legs, kissing her with a sense of urgency. His length pressed hard against her, and her next impulse surged through her. To get those pants off, to get him naked. To let everything happen at last.
He shared that same impatience, wriggling off the rest of her clothes, so that she lay there, completely exposed to him.
Mordred's yellow eyes gleamed in the faint blue lights, giving a dark tint to him. She had the strange sensation that they were kissing underwater, reaching for one another as the liquid rippled around them, as he took off the last of his clothes, as he positioned his length at her entrance, and slowly made his way inside. Though she didn't really know how to act, what should happen during this moment, she again went with her impulse, to let the moment overtake everything else.
After he began to move, it became very, very hard to think. All her thoughts tumbled down, focusing instead to a singular point, of what Mordred did to her, and what she did to him with the way she arched against him. His eyes glazed over, shutting as he moved inside her, and she grimaced, unsure what to make of the feeling inside her curling out, half afraid everything inside might explode, making her unable to function.
She was partially right, at least. The tension increased, and she expressed her feeling with gasps and moans, in urging him to go faster, because she wanted more, more, more...
The sensation roared through her, covering her nerves and pounding heart like her lightweaving, except it came with a sensation that somehow dragged down her limbs as if drowning, and made her float at the same time. Her mind, certainly, felt as if all the moorings inside it had detached, leaving her drifting in serene bliss.
It didn't take him too long after that to reach his own personal bliss, and for them to share the reality of their act together. She smiled as he continued to kiss her, but this time with gentle touches of his lips, letting his hands softly glide over her skin. He removed himself from inside her, still exploring her body, and she let him do so, both unable to resist and unwilling to.
Finally, he settled to her left side, dragging the bedcovers around them by getting her to move as well.
“Mine,” he said then, voice cracking, resting one palm upon her cheek.
“Mine,” Kiara echoed, doing the same to his. They both gazed at one another, grinning.
Kiara then buried her face in the pillow, enjoying Mordred's hot arm draping over her.
What an amazing thing, this sex. When done in the right way. She might have been a little clumsy, a little unsure at times, but their sheer confidence in one another managed to override the worst of it. Also, what they did should stop some of the rumors. Just as long as she kept up the act, made sure she did what was expected of her—
She shook her head. No. That wasn't right. She didn't do this because everyone expected it.
She did it because she liked Mordred. Plain and simple. Maybe she struggled to admit the truth to herself at times, but from everything that had happened, accidental or not, convenient or not—she'd grown attached to him. Hard not to. He made it easy to love. Then there was that rather heart-pulsing rescue. How soon he'd reached out to find her, along with that other werewolf. How he fought back the night hordes with a form that surpassed anything any human could muster.
Something wasn't quite right about those night horde creatures, though. Kiara only heard that they were monstrous, savage things that would kill you the second they scented you in the dark. But to her, they seemed like an eerie form of human. One that evolved without eyes, yet still sensed light. Pathetic, scrabbling creatures that shouldn't even be alive, yet there they were, chasing after Winifred's illusions, seeming, well... not exactly threatening.
Far too much she didn't know. About how the sun and moon disappeared in the first place, about how things and plants survived in a place where they shouldn't. Everything outside the light-woven human kingdoms should be dead, without the proper nutrients and heat to survive. Lakes and seas should be frozen, the ground slick with tundra.
What did people actually know? The world went dark a long time ago. Something—someone made the sun die. It took the moon from the sky, the stars. Something happened. But what?
Mordred turned over then, hugging her closer to him, tumbling the thoughts out of her mind in that usual way. She really did overthink things. Instead, she focused on cuddling him, on breathing in his sweat-dried scent, on absorbing his warmth until it became too much to bear.
“What crazy thing do you plan to do tomorrow night?” he said, with a little grin in his words.
“Hmm...” Kiara tried shuffling herself in closer, though all it served to do was readjust their positions and not actually change the distance. “Well, if my sister comes tomorrow, you'll have twice the crazy and half the fun. We Fjorns will turn your Highborn upside down.”
He chuckled, now stroking her long, dark hair. “You must be looking forward to seeing her.”
“Yes and no. She probably thinks she's coming here to scoop me out of whatever political mess I'll unwittingly bumble into. And she's probably annoyed with father for sending me off with little to no training, so this is likely her revenge on him. I doubt her motivations are as pure as ‘wanting to visit little sis.’” Not that Kiara particularly minded. People's reasons might be selfish or pure—or they might lie to themselves and pretend their reasons were pure, but often or not, people did things because they wanted. Because it suited them. She didn't bother deluding herself for Bethany's motives, even though she liked the idea that her older sister wanted to help.
“Well, I suppose it gets lonely having to talk to Kanthians. And dealing with the fact that you're not as funny as you think you are.”
“Ha, ha,” Kiara said. “I'm funny. It's you lot who don't know how to be funny.”
She closed her eyes, hoping that maybe the nearness of him and the warm, floating feeling inside her would help lull her to sleep. Her brain, however, had other ideas. It started thinking about Bethany, about how the Highborn would treat her tomorrow, about whether she'd made a mistake in showing off her magic the way she did, whether Mordred actually loved her or just did everything out of the formal sense of duty instilled into him, like Violet with her husband and her father with her mother...
Mordred moved slightly, as if stretching for something. She went with the movement like a boat cresting water, not opening her eyes to see what he did. The familiar rustle of pages made her smile. He positioned himself to have one arm under her, so that her neck rested upon it, and with the other arm, he held up a book, preparing to read.
“What's the last thing you remember?” He kissed her on her ear, and she strained her memory. It felt a little like wading through a pool of treacle.
“Something... about... Princess Hana getting kidnapped by the beast. Maybe? Oh, wait—I think it was when her horse bolted. Yes, that's it. I was there.”
“That's two chapters back,” Mordred said, now furiously rustling the paper. “That means you fell asleep in three pages last time.”
“It's not my fault you enjoyed the book and kept reading.”
“Enjoy? You think I enjoy this? Reading about sexually deprived princesses putting themselves into stupid situations and getting heroically rescued by princes who just happen to conveniently be there just as the princess is about to be eaten?”
Kiara grinned into his arm. “Of course you do. Though I do think the princess is perfectly capable of rescuing herself as well.”
“Yes, yes, you've said that about a hundred times already...” He moved his legs into a more comfortable position and began to read. Instantly, his voice had a relaxing, melodic effect on her mind. The chaotic thoughts stilled. The tension she didn't realize was there unraveled.
She barely managed past the first rustle of a page before sinking into blissful, dreamless sleep.
When she woke up, she was alone in the bed. But not quite alone in the room.
Winifred stood in front of her, holding a squirming orange ball of fur in her hands. The kitten made plaintive meows, and it tried bracing its back legs against Winifred's arms to leap out. “I found a kitten by the way. It looked a little mangier than what you see now... I washed and fed him a bit. And he may not be well trained...”
The kitten continued meowing.
Kiara's face split into a smile. She'd actually forgotten about her request to Winifred, with all the chaos that managed to insert itself. Kiara thanked Winifred and took the squirming kitten off her. Soon the kitten gave up trying to escape, instead batting at Kiara's necklace.
She knew very little about looking after animals.
May as well start somewhere. And see if werewolves had issues with cats...
She grinned at the thought.
Annora’s Dragon
By: Lisa Daniels
Chapter 1
Competition and Criminals
Annora looked around, her blue-green eyes taking in the picturesque landscape. Had she been anyone else, her breath would have been taken away by the way the rising sun reflected against the ocean and the brilliant colors of the sky. Annora noticed none of these things as she scanned the horizon. Her thoughts were focused on one thing only – finding the dragon that had burned down the villages of King Salmon and Marked Tree. The inhabitants of King Salmon had largely escaped with their lives, but the people of the small town of Marked Tree had not been so lucky. She had known many of those who had died. While she hadn’t been exactly friendly with them, the people had always treated her well, despite her profession. Dragon hunters were not popular. They were considered boorish, brutal, and generally cold. The people of Marked Tree had not felt that way; they had always been understanding that you did what you had to do to make a living. It was an easier sentiment for the people of Marked Tree to understand since that was the way most of them lived.
Initially, she had refused the request of King Salmon to hunt down the dragon, but after it decimated Marked Tree, she took up the contract. What Annora did not tell her employers was that she would go after the dragon with or without their payment. After all, if you could get paid while getting revenge, it provided a little extra incentive. Dragons were among the toughest creatures to kill, and there were times when the fight didn’t seem worth it. The odds of dying were significantly higher than surviving. It’s probably why dragon hunters were so wild and unpredictable. And they were incredibly expensive. You had to be either a certain type of desperate or a large amount of crazy to join this profession.
Annora was neither of these. Dragons had destroyed three of her homes by the time she was 12 years old, leaving her an orphan after the second attack. She never questioned what she should become. For her, the job was a vendetta.
That had been 15 years ago.
As the woman stood on the cliffside scanning for the familiar outline of a dragon, a few strands of her wavy, chestnut-colored hair passed over her vision. She seemed not to notice, her attention too intent on finding the one thing she was after. Standing there, any passerby would have thought she was a strange statue – a fair woman wearing men’s clothing and carrying a pair of weapons. The sword was angled up so that she could quickly remove it from the scabbard. A dirk was located slightly higher on the right side. Men who saw her often laughed, believing that she didn’t understand that real sword wielders carried the sword on the left side to make it easier to remove with the dominant right hand. Their laughter lasted only as long as it took Annora to level the sword at their throats, her left hand firmly grasping it with a level of expertise that few others had.
Annora’s eyes sparkled as her cold smile told the men she knew how to use the weapon just as well as they. “Yes, it should be on the opposite side of the dominant hand. Why do you think it’s on my right side?”
No man who ever tried to challenge her during these encounters was ever able to use a weapon afterward.
Men were easy when you were accustomed to dealing with dragons.
The breeze on the cliffside caused her dark-brown braid to sway, the only sign that she wasn’t a statue. The dragon hunter didn’t feel it gently tapping against the small of her back as she took in the horizon.
Then she saw it. The creature was smaller than most she had seen, but that didn’t mean anything when it came to dragons. Females tended to be smaller than males, but they were far more vicious. Of course, the dragon may have been young still and was testing out its strength and power for the first time. Annora watched the graceful arch as the dragon soared over the water in the distance. A wry grin spread across her face as she imagined how much fun the dragon was having. Probably the same look it had when it decimated Marked Tree.
She was about to move when a movement at the bottom of the cliff caught her attention. For a second, she thought she had seen wings. If there were two dragons, she would have to reconsider the agreement. Either she would require more money or turn it down.
Shaking her head, Annora knew that she couldn’t do anything without confirming a second dragon. The fact that the dragon on the horizon was playing indicated that it did not realize that another dragon was nearby, and dragons did not tend to be stealthy. With that kind of power and size, stealth was hardly a necessary (or practical) skill to have. Considering how territorial they were, there were only a few reasons why two would appear in the same area together. This kind of distance between them made no sense. It was likely that the wing belonged to something else, perhaps a griffin or siren.
Taking a step forward, Annora looked over the cliff. To her surprise, a human was walking along the beach, his eyes also on the dragon in the distance. Her eyes flicked up to watch the movement of the dragon on the horizon, then back to the man. He was tall with curly black hair that moved with the breeze sweeping along the beach. For a moment she stared at his figure as he moved along the edge of the waves in the same direction as the dragon. It was obvious that the man was a fighter. The way his muscles pressed against his clothing was easy to see even from the cliff top. Even if she hadn’t been able to see the tensed muscles in his arms as he stood and folded them to watch the dragon’s progress, the broadsword on his back left no question that he was a warrior.
She completely forgot about what had caused her to look over the edge in the first place.
Competition.
It was the only thought that mattered amidst the jumble of other words floating through her head as she gazed at him.
Her eyes swept over his figure one more time, taking in the details. Best to know the competition, she thought, unable to admit even to herself that he was rather pleasing to watch from such a distance. He quickly unfolded his arms and turned toward the cliff face. Annora was startled for a moment and backed away where she would not be seen. Giving her head a shake, the dragon slayer turned and quickly moved back into the woods following the same direction in which the dragon had gone. She was going to have to work fast with someone else also after it. There was no way she was going to let anyone else take this kill because it wasn’t just about the money. Annora was going to make it suffer for what it had done to the people of Marked Tree.
Annora walked into Defiance, a bustling town and port. She had only been there once before, nearly five years ago, and it had grown considerably since then. The change was a bit unsettling. Had the woman known that it had changed so drastically, she would have gone to Kildeer. However, that was another three miles out of the way, and she didn’t want to go so far out of her way just because of a bit of discomfort. Not at this hour. Not when someone else appeared to be after her kill.
She didn’t notice any of the merchants or customers going about their lives as she headed toward what had once been a small and inviting inn. To her disappointment, that inn had burned down three years ago. In its place was a merchants’ guild. Glaring at the building, Annora saw someone approaching her from the corner of her eye. It was getting dark, and she wasn’t accustomed to so much light, but it did make the shadows and movement much easier to detect.
“Hello…” Annora slowly turned to look at the man addressing her. He was about to say something, but stopped when he got close. “Oh. Hello, ma’am. What do you think?”
Annora watched as the man folded his arms over his chest. He was clearly a merchant and he was looking up at the building with a sense of pride.
Usually she would just turn and walk away, but she did need some information as she had no idea where to go for the night. She attempted a small smile when he looked at her. “It certainly looks nice.” The woman’s mind was scoffing at him as the man returned her smile with a huge grin.
“Nice!” He laughed. “There is no building in this magnificent town as costly or luxurious.”
Annora simply blinked at him. “Well, that is something, then.” She fought to keep her tone from being too sarcastic.
The man didn’t seem to notice. “It’s mine, you know.”
Suddenly Annora didn’t feel like asking this man for assistance. “Good for you.” Her tone was nearly monotone as she gave him a condescending look. “If you will-”
Ignoring her words, the man pressed on. “And I dare say you are quite a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He winked at her. Annora merely stared back at him, her cold eyes warning him not to continue. The man seemed oblivious to the warning. “I’ll tell you what. If you will give me the pleasure of your company for, oh, let’s say three days, I will-”
Annora spun on her heel, her braid hitting the man’s arm with an audible smack. Ignoring whatever he had to say, she walked purposefully back the way she had come.
Unsure of where to find lodgings, the dragon hunter headed toward the water. The town was located at the mouth of the Allia, the longest river in Senones, a country that, until recently, had been backward. After the Cremera War, though, Senones had been growing rapidly, having benefited from aiding the victorious country of Volsci. Annora didn’t know the politics behind it, nor did she care. The only thing that mattered to her was that the small town she once understood was now yet another place she planned to avoid in the future.
As she reached the port, a hand fell on her shoulder. The woman’s instinct was to draw her blade, but she could hear someone gasping for breath and saying her name.
“Annora! My gods, but I never expected to run into you here!” There was a very melodic laugh and the tension eased from Annora’s shoulders.
Turning to face the woman, Annora tried to keep her face straight. “Hello, Bree.” She could not help the way one of her eyebrows raised and the corner of her mouth likewise went up.
There was another laugh as the curly-haired, redheaded woman placed a hand on her hip and stood up straight. Dramatically, she expelled a long breath, “Wooooo, but you are a hard woman to catch.” She beamed from ear to ear. “Don’t know what brought you here, but damn, it is good to see you. It’s been, what? Three? Four years?”
Annora couldn’t hide a small smile. “It’s been a year and a half.”
Bree looked shocked. “That’s it? Are you sure? No! It has to have been longer! Your hair is almost twice as long now.”
Annora shook her head, the braid swaying back and forth. “Just a couple of inches. It was just after the war ended. That was about two years ago.” Bree’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Remember? We were in Illyrian when the army came through and you-”
Bree began laughing. “Oh yeah! That was amazingly fun. You should have joined me.”
Annora just shook her head.
Bree looked her friend in the eyes. “So, where are you staying and for how long?”
Annora looked out over the water. “Just staying for the night, but I don’t have a where yet. The Boar’s Snout Inn burned down and I really don’t know anywhere else.”
Bree threaded her arm through Annora’s. “Now that’s what I want to hear. You’re coming with me.” Annora knew better than to try to fight at this point – Bree had never been one to listen once she heard what she wanted to hear. A rare smile spread across the dragon hunter’s face as her friend gently steered them toward one of the more luxurious inns in Defiance.
Annora stepped out of The Palace Paradise and shook her head. Bree had finagled a room for her, despite how packed the place was, and had managed to get it for free. Laughingly, Bree had told her that the room wasn’t free, it just wasn’t a bill that either of them would be paying. The woman was a couple of years younger than Annora with a personality that was the complete antithesis of Annora’s, despite the pair having grown up on the streets together in the modest city of Achaean. Bree’s given name had been Brianna, but she had always said it was too formal. Where Annora was cold and serious to a fault, Bree was charismatic and gregarious almost to the point of obnoxiousness.
Still, Annora loved her like a sister and was sad when Bree had taken her to a small but nicely-furnished room, then announced that she had to tend to a few things that night. Annora thought she knew what Bree was up to, so it was best not to ask, just as Bree never asked her about dragon hunting. Their outlooks on life were very different, and both felt the other had taken on a job that was too dangerous. The best way to avoid arguments was to simply avoid talking about work.
Bree had given her a big hug and headed toward the door. The young woman placed a hand on the door frame and paused. With an uncharacteristically serious look, she turned to face Annora. The dragon hunter felt a sense of dread. Bree was almost never serious unless it was bad news.
Bree bit her lower lip, looked to the window, then up at the ceiling, before fixing her sparkling green eyes on Annora, “Naya says she forgives you.”
Annora felt her stomach lurch. Whatever she had expected, that was not it. She looked toward the window.
Bree gave a humorless smile. “I know you aren’t ready to forgive yourself yet, but I think you owe it to her to at least pay a visit and talk. She’s not a child anymore.”
Annora heard Bree’s footsteps as the woman moved down the hall. Annora closed her eyes and for a few moments she felt lost. With a quick shake of her head, the dragon slayer decided she needed to head outside before her thoughts went where she wasn’t ready to go.
And that was how she found herself in an unfamiliar part of a growing town, unsure which way to go. Cursing herself, Annora wished she had at least asked where she could get a decent meal. The cost of the room was covered, but nothing else, and the dragon slayer was starving. Her head swiveled left and right. Deciding that direction didn’t matter, Annora stepped out into the night.
Her mind managed to keep track of all of the twists and turns she took while she looked for somewhere that would have decent food at a reasonable price. Usually following the smell was the easiest way to find a place where the food tasted like it was fresh. Annora may not have been particularly picky about the type of food she ate most of the time (after all, she really didn’t have that luxury when on the hunt), but it was one of the few benefits of being in a town. The dragon slayer greatly preferred the freedom and mobility of the wild, and detested being stuck in a place full of people. However, well-cooked meals were one of the few comforts Annora enjoyed when she was forced to remain in a populated place. Beds were the other benefit that she found great comfort in as the number of dangers were significantly reduced. The feel of a bed was also nice, although she felt more bothered about who may have slept in the bed before her than she felt about the animals who last slept in wherever she decided to sleep when she was in the wild.
Annora grimaced as her stomach growled. It had been a very long day, and she now regretted her earlier decision to skip food in favor of making progress.
She was distracted enough as she turned down a darker street that she did not notice the two figures that stepped out of the shadow. Annora didn’t walk very far before she realized the folly of allowing herself to be distracted. Cursing herself again, this time under her breath, Annora decided to make quick work of it.
In the dim light, it looked like she placed her hands on her hips as she stopped walking. The woman’s voice sounded annoyed as she spoke. “Sorry, but if you are looking for easy prey, you haven’t found it yet. I won’t even turn around so you can slink away and pretend this never happened.”
There was a derisive laugh behind her, then a higher-pitched male voice said, “Oh, I think we have found the perfect person for our little adventure. There’s nothing like a woman who knows how to act tough. They are the sweetest to take down.” His laugh echoed through the alley.
Slowly, she turned around and looked at the two thugs, men who clearly had enough money, so they didn’t need to prey on tourists who roamed into the wrong part of town. That meant the guys had been following her for a while, and there was only one way to take that –they were part of the criminal underground. The dragon slayer rolled her eyes as she tapped her sword and dirk. The first person she had talked to and this was the result. She made sure the metal gleamed as she partially drew them out. “These aren’t just for show.”
The sound of the man’s voice grated on her ears as he gave a cold, humorless laugh. “If you were a real fighter, you would know that the sword goes on the left side. Only a fool or a woman would wear it in the wrong place.” His smile was a sneer.
Annora simply blinked at him.
The man stepped forward and continued, “The boss didn’t like the way you turned him-”
The man’s voice wavered as the sound of metal hissed in the evening and the two weapons appeared leveled at his throat and stomach. A cold smile spread across her face. To make the point that she wasn’t incompetent, she quickly drew them back and twirled the sword and dirk, returning them to the same spot when she was done. It was obvious from looking at them that the sword pointed at his throat and the dirk at his stomach were well used and the edges really sharp.
The man’s eyes went wide and he swallowed hard before leering at her. “Sorry, sweetheart, but flashy tricks don’t mean anything.”
Annora realized too late that she had given the man in front too much attention. The second man threw a small dagger. Unable to dodge it, she changed its direction with her dirk. She felt the edge gash her right bicep. The street was dark enough that it was nearly impossible to see that wound, and she was not one to make a sound when wounded. Annora immediately moved forward, her weapons moving in unison. The man in front tried desperately to fend them off with his own sword only to find that the woman’s skill far outmatched his own.
The fight lasted only a few seconds. Annora’s sword plunged into his chest as her dirk slashed across his throat. It was certainly more than was necessary, but she was in a really bad mood. She used her foot to push the dying man away and immediately turned to fight the second. To her annoyance, he had already turned to run and was several hundred feet ahead of her. She dashed off after him, cursing as he reached the corner of a building and disappeared from sight.
Her weapons still out, she reached the corner and almost immediately froze. Her weapons were up and ready to fight the shadow lurking in the alley. Without a word, she dashed forward, her weapons looking for a second kill.
The sound of metal rang out in the night. Then a male voice spoke in the darkness. “You’ve missed him.”
Annora had been pushed back. Narrowing her eyes, she watched as a different figure emerged from the shadows. She had not seen much of the second man, but she knew he was not as tall as the figure before her, nor had he been as muscular.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” Her voice was cold and accusing.
The clouds that had covered the moon passed for a brief moment, and she was able to get a better look at the man’s face. His eyes were deep and dark, and in the moonlight they almost looked red. Not as if they were bloodshot, but because the whites of his eyes were a very bright white. His jaw line was very sharp, and his nose a little large, although it fit his very rugged features. Stubble lined his jaw and encircled his mouth, drawing her eyes to rosy red lips, the kind of lips she thought only belonged to men of leisure. His hair was almost as dark as the night. A gleam of metal also caught her eye, and Annora could tell from the location that the man carried a broadsword.
Shit, she thought, immediately recognizing him as the figure on the beach. It looked like her competition had also made it this far, too. Regretting that she had not pushed further that night, Annora tried to find an excuse to keep from talking to him. The less they talked, the better. She knew it was only a matter of time until he would inquire about her clothing, and there were too few reasons to give for it.
The man’s expression was one of surprise as he looked at her. It was not a look that she liked as it was one that Annora had come to associate with having to kill. Fully expecting the encounter to go wrong, the dragon slayer relaxed her stance. Though she looked at ease, her weapons were ready for what she felt was inevitable in the current situation.
The man smiled, and her brain told her that it was a pleasant sight. Her eyes narrowed in disapproval of such a girlish thought.
The man raised an eyebrow at her reaction to his smile. “I didn’t stop him because I had no business with him myself.”
Annora’s expression did not change. “Oh, how gallant of you to feel it is none of your business when two men attempt to assault a woman in a dark street.”
The man grinned, his teeth shining as the moon passed behind another cloud. For a moment, Annora thought his teeth looked a little too pointed. Had she not seen him about during the day, she would have suspected him of being one of the undead. There was clearly something off about him, though.
The man seemed relaxed as he looked up at the sky. “Oh, most nights I probably would have stepped in. It’s not like I enjoy lurking in alleys, but it didn’t appear my intervention was necessary this time. I hate to get in the way.” There was sincerity in his voice, but it still sounded more like an excuse to her.
“You let a criminal escape.”
“You could probably still catch him.” His expression was calm as he spoke, his voice low and gentle.
Annora shook her head, then she turned. As she returned to the corpse of the first attacker, she said, “And do what? By now he’s in a high traffic area or made his way into a building, which increases his advantages. I’ve no desire to-” Pain shot through her as she began to wipe her dirk on the corpse. She had forgotten about her injury. Refusing to let the man see that she was already injured, Annora continued to talk, although her voice was more aggressive as she kept it steady through the pain, “-to go hunting in a town that is nearly a city. He will likely meet his end some other night playing the thug for that merchant.” She tried to make it clear that she did not want to continue talking to him.
There was silence behind her, and the young fighter hoped that meant he had left. Annora turned, thinking that she may be talking to herself, hoping that was the case. Her disappointment was palpable as she realized he had followed her a ways and watched as she checked to make sure the man was dead, saying nothing as she cleaned her weapons and stood to face him. Once she was looking at him, the man reached out a hand. “I’m Elian.”
Annora’s stomach growled in response. As the man laughed, she glared at him. She did not offer her hand in return, but her eyes took in his features as the clouds moved on. The moon shone brightly on his face and his laughing, reddish eyes.
Elian did not seem offended as he smiled at her. “I dare say you are hungry. Would you mind if I accompanied-”
Suddenly a shadow passed over the moon, a shadow that was certainly not a cloud. Both the man and the woman immediately looked up and saw the outline of a dragon passing overhead.
Elian watched for a moment, his eyes following the trajectory that the dragon must have taken. He turned to look at the woman to make an excuse to leave, but found that she was already gone. Blinking and looking around him, Elian had no idea which way she had gone. Then his eyes went to the ground and a barely perceptible trail of blood.
“And just what is your interest in a dragon?” His words were spoken into the night, a sign that the woman had captured his attention and curiosity. The man took a few steps in the same direction that the woman had gone before he recovered himself. “Now’s not the time for distractions.” He cocked his head to the side and wondered for another brief moment, clearly ignoring his own advice.
With a faint smile, he turned and moved down a different alley.