Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) (18 page)

He jerked his gaze to her. “What?”

“The boy, the one in your council chambers. The one with the auburn hair. Who is he?”

Sebastian's jaw tightened. “No one knows, my lady. He stepped out of obscurity into The Crossings one day. His mighty gift for wrangling the great brutes is what pushed him to his place in my palace.”

“His name is Cedric?”

“Aye.”

She stared down the path toward the Dragon fields.

“Why the interest, my lady?” Sebastian was careful to keep his voice even.

She glanced up at him and laughed lightly. “No reason. He—he seems interesting, that's all.”

“I see.” Sebastian pasted a smile over the jealousy, suspicion, and anger that erupted at her words. They advanced past the fields where Valkyries, Direwolves, and Goblins practiced. As they drew near the Dragons, Lianna pulled away from Sebastian, hurrying up the stairs to the observation stage.

Cedric stood on the far side of it, shouting his instructions down to the Dimn below.

“Dragon-Master.” Sebastian's voice called the boy to attention.

Cedric turned his head, and surprise mixed with confusion crossed his features when he saw Lianna. “M—my lady,” he stuttered. He quickly corrected himself. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Lady Lianna.”

Lianna spoke first, stepping to the railing next to Cedric. “These are fascinating creatures, Dragon-Master. What can you tell me of these three that you've brought out today?” Her light tone was full of interest and Sebastian watched Cedric as he slipped over the edge into the bottomless pit of infatuation.

Harmless. She was flirting, as all maids of sixteen did. If it had been anyone else, Sebastian would have been laughing behind his gauntlets at the sight of them.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Cedric—the boy who presented him with the only credible threat to his throne. The boy who mirrored Sebastian's own brother in appearance and in character. The boy whose veins flowed thick with the blood of Dragons.

It was Cedric who now haunted his dreams when he drifted into troubled sleep.

Not the niece of Nicholas Erlane, not Nicholas Erlane himself.

Cedric, and Cedric alone, could unseat him from his power.

The boy was unaware. And Sebastian would take care that he should never find out.

O
ne morning
a week after the return from the Griffon Pass, Lincoln nudged Kinna from the fire, taking his place next to the fish that simmered on the stone. “I'll finish this,” he said cheerfully. “Go do something fun.”

Kinna stared at him. “Fun?”

“Yes. Don't you remember fun? Jollity? Hilariousness? Me?”

A brief grin stretched Kinna's lips. She was ashamed to realize that the sensation felt foreign. “What's the occasion?”

“It's your birthday, m'lady.”

Her mouth dropped open. “How did you know?” She herself had forgotten all about it. Today, she turned eighteen. A sharp stab of homesickness shot through her.

Ayden raised his head from where he sat next to the river some distance away. He pushed himself to his feet and ambled toward the fire, his gloves stuffed awkwardly in the pockets of his breeches. “Happy birthday, Kinna.”

She pinched the blue cotton of her gown between her fingers, searching for imaginary wrinkles. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

When she looked up, Ayden was already far away, wading through the tall grasses toward the cliffs and Chennuh's canyon. She didn't see him for the rest of the day.

Two more weeks of strained silence passed. Not that their relationship hadn't been fraught with tension since they'd first met at the Dragon arena, but this was ... different.

Ayden hadn't offered any explanation for the strange death of the Griffon cattle owner, and Kinna hadn't asked. She feared what lay beneath his gloves, and then hated herself for her fear. But most of all, her heart tore in two at the hurt that traced his silver gaze when he looked at her. She’d had no idea. He'd buried his pain too deeply for her to see.

Kinna's eyesight blurred in tears of pity.

“M'lady?” Lincoln's soft voice pulled her attention away from Ayden as he lowered himself ledge by ledge toward Chennuh.

“Yes?”

“What happened at the Griffon Pass that leaves you so distressed? You've been back now three weeks, and you still startle every time the lad even twitches.” He glanced significantly at Ayden's blond head below them.

Kinna blinked, straightening, her hand moving to her tangled hair. Her lack of comb was showing. She'd tried to keep the brilliant clusters of curl braided, but the thick strands kept working free, and she was too impatient to keep reweaving it.

“Nothing, Lincoln. We—took two cows and brought them back.”

Lincoln shook his head, pinching his orange hair between his fingers, spiking it in tufts across his head.

Lincoln lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, his gaze on the gray sky above them. A crude leather mantle blanketed his thin form. It wasn't the first time Kinna had been thankful that Ayden had extra wraps with him. The wind could be bitter outside the canyon. She huddled under her own mantle, grateful for the added warmth.

Ayden had finally implemented moving into the canyon with Chennuh. “It's going to get colder before it gets warmer,” he'd said. “Snow will blanket the Rues, and the warmest spot will be right next to a Dragon.”

Lincoln had refused to leave the top ledges, not wishing to get anywhere close to Chennuh, but Ayden and Kinna had gone daily to the floor of the canyon, gradually making inroads into the Dragon's defenses.

Chennuh would watch them now without blasting fire in their direction. He would dip his snout and eat chunks of meat as Ayden or Kinna dropped them onto the canyon floor, but only if they backed up several paces. His wing would still flutter frenetically now and again when he tried to fly, and he would huff with impatience when it refused to work correctly.

Kinna could now see what Ayden had done when he had first reattached the wing. Every morning, Lincoln would sing his song, and Chennuh would flop down into a deep slumber. Then Ayden would climb onto the Dragon's side and squat over the root of the wing, touching his bare hands to the mirrored scales, which would darken in a ripple from his touch.

“It doesn't hurt him?” she'd asked the first time she'd seen the process.

His jaw had tightened as he glanced at her. “No, it doesn't hurt him. Dragons are the only living creatures I can touch.” Bitterness scarred his words.

The awkwardness only grew. She wished she could do something about it.

Lincoln's sing-song voice interrupted Kinna's meandering thoughts. “You can talk to me, you know, m'lady.” Pixie magic drifted through his words. “'It's said that there is powerful healing in sharing your confidence with a Pixie.”

The spell was broken. Kinna snorted. “It's
not
said. I've never heard of such a saying.”

Lincoln sat up and grinned at her. “Those very words just came out of my mouth. Therefore, it was said.”

“Fine. But I still maintain that there is nothing wrong.”

Lincoln watched her, his eyes lazy and playful, but beneath the playfulness lurked a deeper concern. “As you wish, m'lady. But I'll get it out of you yet.”

“Look at this.” Ayden's voice broke into their conversation, and Kinna whirled, flinching backward as she realized how close he stood to her.

Hurt slashed through his eyes, and instant mortification bit deep into Kinna.

“I—I'm sorry.” She stumbled over her words, and her mind searched for something that would make the situation better.

“Forget it.” He tossed a hunk of meat onto a nearby stone. “For supper. Chennuh kindly roasted this for me.”

Kinna's eyes widened. “You got him to do it?”

Ayden sat and pulled off a portion of the meat, tossing it to her. She noticed he was careful not to get close to her, despite the gloves that covered his hands.

She caught the meat and tore off a chunk with her teeth. “My mother would be horrified,” she said as she swallowed. “Eating without utensils.”

“There is only a Pixie and a Dragondimn to care,” Lincoln commented as he dug into his own chunk of meat.

“How did you get Chennuh to roast the meat?” Kinna asked Ayden.

Ayden shrugged. “I got too close to his talons. He's sensitive about them, and he shot a fireball at me, which I dodged. It happened to be right in front of the meat, and it seared it nicely.”

Kinna glanced down at the Dragon where he tore into the last of the two cows below. It would sustain him another week or two, but then Ayden would have to return to the Griffon Pass for another forage. She dreaded the thought.

The sky darkened as they ate, and finally Kinna leaned against the ledge, pulling her hair over her shoulder and trying to sort through the mass of tangled curls with her fingers.

“Oh.” Ayden wiped his fingers on his breeches and reached inside one of his pockets. “Happy birthday. Sorry it's a couple of weeks late.” He pulled out a small piece of wood and tossed it to her. She caught it.

It was a comb, crudely whittled, the teeth slightly crooked, but it was evidence of several hours of painstaking work.

Kinna raised her eyes to Ayden's. He shrugged. “I noticed you were having trouble getting the tangles out. Thought you might like it.”

In his eyes, she read raw pain. He dropped his gaze and stuffed his hands in his pockets, turning away from her. Tension lined his shoulders. Here he was, probably for the first time in his life, reaching out, touching another person, even if it wasn't physical. If she rejected him now, he would never fully recover.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked toward him. He turned at the sound of her movement and watched her warily. She stopped in front of him. “Here,” she said. “You comb it.”

He stared at her. “Kinna, I—”

“Please?”

It was a gesture of trust, and recognition of that fact flared in his eyes. Slowly, he reached out his gloved hand and took the comb. She sat down on the ledge facing away from him, spreading her hair across her back, closing her eyes as she felt the comb in the thickness of her tresses.

Now and then, his glove rested on her shoulder as the comb's teeth worked through the strands; sometimes his hand flinched back if the leather accidentally brushed the bare skin of her neck. She was careful not to move, not to open her eyes or to betray any sign of nervousness.

Eventually, the comb flowed freely through her hair, and when she opened her eyes and took it from his glove, heat rushed through her cheeks. She raised one hand to cover her face. “I must have been sitting too near the fire.”

He said nothing, but his silver eyes watched her, guarded and careful.

She lowered her gaze. “Thank you,” she said, so softly she could hardly hear it. She turned away and pulled herself up to the next ledge and then over the peak to the rocky outside of the canyon, out of sight.

Huddling against the rough canyon wall, she pulled her knees to her chest and allowed the frigid night wind to dry the tears that washed her cheeks.

K
inna couldn't sleep
that night. She lay on the rocky ledge and thought ruefully of her mattress at home filled with fresh-smelling dried hay. There was nothing comfortable about this ledge, even with the mantle wrapped around her and the embers of the fire glowing warm across her face.

Lincoln turned over in his sleep, throwing his arm across her ankle, mumbling something about specks of gravel in his tea.

She pushed herself up on her elbow to glance down at him. His face was nearly buried in the sole of her foot. She gently pulled her leg out from under his arm, and glanced over at Ayden. He always slept far away, though that meant he suffered from the cold. She understood why now, though. He couldn't risk brushing against one of them in the depths of his sleep. His lips were parted; his face was completely relaxed. One gloved hand curled into a fist and tucked beneath his chin. He looked so innocent and boyish that a lump rose in Kinna's throat. She resisted the urge to brush her fingers through his thick blond curls.

A grunt below them told her that Chennuh was also restless. Heavy footfalls beat the canyon floor. He was impatient again.

Kinna stood, tucking her mantle about her, and leaned down to pick up the cool end of a stick whose other end glowed in the fire. She neared the ledge and dropped down onto the next rim, then again, and again.

As she progressed toward the canyon floor, she could make out the rippling blackness of Chennuh's dark form. When he caught sight of her glowing stick, he stopped. The reflection of the stick and the residue of the glow on Kinna's face reflected in Chennuh's eyes and in the million tiny scales that covered his body.

Kinna stopped on the ledge above Chennuh, sitting and scooting to the edge, over which she swung her feet. She rested the stick beside her. The glowing coals were slowly fading to black, but enough remained that she could still see their reflection in Chennuh's eyes.

She didn't have the gift of Pixie song and verse: she couldn't weave magic into her words, but it didn't matter.

She hummed a low, soothing melody. It floated on the night air, slipping softly across the rock ledges and onto the canyon floor. It was a tune Kinna knew from her childhood, a simple lullaby, but in the release of the song, she began to feel the healing of her hurts. For so long she had felt like an outcast to the Pixies; she had been unable to pull together an identity, something that said,
I'm Kinna, Pixiedimn.
She had felt like a failure, knowing she had let her parents down, causing Tristan to lose his place of importance in their society. It had been all her fault.

Chennuh had grown very still. The glow where his mouth closed loosely over his razor sharp fangs flickered, wafting heat toward Kinna, thawing her cold feet.

Kinna finished singing and sighed, but her heart was lighter. The Dragon felt like home. She didn't know why, she couldn't explain it even to herself, but sitting in front of this dangerous fire-breather, she felt completely at rest.

“I wonder sometimes, Chennuh, if we're not more alike than we think.” Kinna whispered through the darkness. Chennuh's huge face came closer as she spoke. She kept her voice low, soothing. “You were forced into a Dragon keep where you didn't belong, denied your potential—a great beast with the freedom of the skies. You were forced to submit to the drudgery of chains and commands all day and all night, and I'll bet you nearly forgot what the sky looked like. Or the stars at night tucked into their velvet black folds. You can see them now, Chennuh.” Kinna glanced up, taking in the cold winter night. To the north the moon was coated in clouds, but in all other directions, the sky was pinpointed with fiery stars. She counted the constellations. Fearris was the most familiar one with its tricorn hat, but she recognized some of the others that winked gently down at her as well.

“There's Dragon-Mother, the great winged serpent,” Kinna continued, feeling the heat of Chennuh's breath as he drew closer. She knew she should be nervous, should even be scrambling up the ledges and out of reach, but something kept her from it. She couldn't name it, she couldn't even describe it. She simply knew that she needed to stay. “And Valkyrie's Burden. Over there, King's Creed lies.”

With a heavy heat, mirrored scales touched her lap. Kinna started, but immediately stilled as she slowly lowered her head to look at Chennuh.

The great Dragon's eyes were directly in front of her. If she leaned forward, spreading her whole body across his snout, she would be able to touch them. The tip of his mouth rested on her knees, and his scorching heat soaked through the mantle that separated her flesh from his scales.

Kinna was shocked, but she didn't dare breathe. She didn't want to break the spell that somehow had drawn Chennuh to her and woven them together in some sort of binding collusion. She watched the Dragon, and he watched her, neither moving.

Then Chennuh gave a soft huff, and smoke curled up around Kinna's face. She bit back a cough, determined to maintain eye contact. Her gaze watered. A moment later, she lifted her hand and placed it, very gently, on the Dragon's sensitive snout.