Fuse, page 11
“I’ve had worse.” He stared at the opposite wall and didn’t tense when she applied pressure to his skin. He didn’t seem affected at all.
She wiped away the dried blood and examined the wound for infection. There wasn’t any pus in the area, so that was a good sign. By the time she was finished, the cloth was ruby red. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine.” If he were in pain, he probably wouldn’t admit it anyway.
She stared at the definition of his back and noted the way his shoulder blades curved toward the center of his spine. Different grooves of muscle protruded out, reminding her of chiseled rock in the mountainside. There was so much detail in his skin. It was a work of art.
“What?” It was one of the rare times when he didn’t sound so confident.
She cleared her throat then grabbed the gauze. “Nothing.” She wrapped the material around his body, crossing it over his ribs on one side and his opposite shoulder. When she touched his dry skin, she noticed how warm it was. She tightened the gauze around his body but inserted two fingers inside the material to make sure it wasn’t cutting off his circulation. “It’s taking a long time to heal.”
“That’s a side effect of dark magic.”
She rinsed the towel in the warm water then drained it. “How are your other cuts doing?”
“They feel better.” He turned in his chair and faced her, the remaining gauze covering the area where his scales had been removed. His prominent chest was directly in her line of sight, along with the tight muscles of his stomach.
Every time she looked at him, she felt uncomfortable. There was something about him that made her feel on edge. Maybe she just needed to accept the fact that different cultures had different ways of doing things. Being shirtless in front of her obviously didn’t bother him the way it bothered her.
Cora removed the bandage and cleaned the reddened area. There were small punctures in his side where the scales had been removed. The protrusions were fairly deep but small in comparison to the dragon. She kneeled down and cleaned the wound.
Flare watched her every move, his eyes boring into her. “How does it look?”
“Honestly, terrible.”
A snort escaped his lips that sounded like a laugh. It was similar to the chuckle he made as a dragon. “Thanks.”
She cleaned the area as best she could before she wrapped the new gauze around this wound. “I’m surprised you haven’t died from losing so much blood.”
“That’s one of the perks of being fused with a dragon. It’s pretty damn hard to kill me.” He touched the gauze with his palm before he pulled his shirt over his head.
Once he was clothed again, her heart slowed down. “What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?” He rose from the chair and towered over her with his height.
“In general. Now that we’re here, what’s our next move?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the pail of bloody water. “Damn, that’s gross.”
“Don’t change the subject.” If he planned to continue this journey with her, he needed to be less secretive. “What do I have to do to gain your trust?”
His eyes didn’t leave the pail. He examined the dirty cloth beside it, his eyes glossing over with deep thoughts. Flare rubbed his bicep absentmindedly. “Nothing.”
“So, you do trust me?”
“No. There’s nothing you can do to gain my trust.” He turned to her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal.”
“Why do you trust Bridge and not me?”
“I’ve known him for much longer.”
“Time isn’t an appropriate measurement. Just because Bridge has been trustworthy in the past doesn’t mean he’ll always be. And just because you haven’t known me for years doesn’t mean I’m deceitful. You really need to reconsider your philosophy. I trust you because I know I can. I trust my instincts.”
“And you shouldn’t.” His voice came out dark, almost threatening. “I’m not a good man, despite what you may think. All you see is what’s on the surface. Underneath flesh and bone, I’m as evil as they come. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
Even with the threat in his voice, she wasn’t scared. “I don’t believe that.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve told you from the beginning what I think of your intellect.”
She wasn’t offended by the words because she knew he didn’t mean them. “Why are you trying to free the dragons if you’re so evil? Why would a man do such a thing?”
“Because.” He met her gaze with a hard look.
“Because why?” she pressed.
He took a step forward, his face practically touching hers. The power of his body spread through the room. He had strength she couldn’t defeat no matter how hard she fought. “All your questions are going to get you killed someday.” His brilliant blue eyes were terrifying, despite their obvious beauty. “I suggest you stop prying and keep your head down. That’s what survivors do.”
Thirteen
When Cora woke up the next morning, the sun was shining through the windows. It was the first time she’d woken up feeling refreshed in nearly a month. The sheets were soft against her skin, and her body was relaxed from the full night of rest she received.
She didn’t want to leave the bed.
After lying there for another half hour, she heard her stomach growl. Despite the feast she’d had the night before, she was still starving. Her body clearly hadn’t recovered from the state of perpetual hunger during her journey.
She took a bath in the washtub with fresh water she’d found outside the door, then sat at the vanity and fixed her hair. The second she looked at her face, she noticed the slight differences. Her cheeks were more hollow and her neck more slender. The journey had taken body mass that she didn’t have to spare to begin with. Her face was weathered and her skin more pigmented. Since discovering she was part elf, she hadn’t examined her reflection. Now, she studied the shape of her eyes and the softness of her mouth.
Was it really that obvious?
She combed her hair and dried it with her fingers before venturing downstairs. Hopefully, breakfast would be on the table with some coffee. Having a proper meal was something she’d taken for granted when she was fleeing the Shamans.
She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
When she walked into the kitchen, Bridge and Flare were already there. An aged map was spread across the table, the corners frayed from years of use. They were both examining it quietly, their scotches replaced by a morning brew of coffee.
“Morning.” She grabbed a plate and piled it with spiced ham, toast, and eggs.
Flare gave her a slight nod while his eyes remained glued to the map.
Bridge acted like he hadn’t heard her at all.
Cora took a seat at the table and dug into her meal.
“Don’t eat like a pig again.” Flare grabbed the map and pulled it away from her side of the table. “We can’t damage this.”
“Go to hell.” She sipped her coffee and devoured her eggs.
Bridge was absorbed in his work, ignoring his breakfast and coffee. “I don’t have a clue, man. It should be here.”
“It should…” Flare rubbed his chin, his features tense with concentration.
“What are you looking for?” Cora continued to ask questions even though she never got answers. They were bound to give up their secrets eventually.
“A place.” Flare sipped his coffee before he returned it to the table.
“What place?” She ate much slower than last time, feeling famished but not starved.
“An important place.” Bridge ran his fingers through his light brown hair. “Which doesn’t seem to exist…”
“Maybe it doesn’t.” Flare finally looked up from the map, his eyes falling on Cora. They were glued to her face for a moment, noting the change of her hair and her new clothes.
“Don’t say that.” Bridge released a depressed sigh. “We can’t afford that.”
Being ignored was getting old. “If you included me, I might be able to help.”
“Doubtful.” Flare kept staring at her.
She grew tired of his unblinking stare. Most of the time, he ignored her, but now, he studied her more intently than the map. “What?”
“What?” His word echoed back at her.
“You keep staring at me.” Her fork was in her grasp, but she didn’t take a bite. “Do I have something on my face?”
Without answering, he looked away.
Bridge glanced at Flare before he examined the map again.
Silence ensued.
She was treated as an outsider, even though she’d proved herself to Flare multiple times. Her impatience was getting the best of her. “Then I’ll just sit here and blindly follow orders when they are given.”
Flare gave her a thumbs-up. “Perfect.”
Her anger overcame her, and she chucked her piece of toast at him. “Note the sarcasm.”
Flare caught the bread in his fingers then took a bite. “Duly noted.”
She sank into her chair and released an irritated sigh. “You’re unbearable.”
“I get that a lot.” Flare pointed to an island a short distance off the coast of Anastille. “What about here?”
“Slave labor camp.” Bridge dismissed the idea like he’d already considered it himself.
Cora’s eyes moved to the island Flare had just pointed to. “Slave labor camp?”
“The land is rich in gems.” Flare leaned over the table as he searched for another location. “The slaves dig them from the earth before they’re deported back to Anastille. It’s High Castle’s main source of revenue.”
It was one of the most disturbing things Cora had ever heard. “So, those slaves live there and work around the clock?”
“Yep.” Bridge’s voice didn’t possess any sympathy. “It’s been going on for hundreds of years.”
Cora shook her head slightly, even though no one was looking at her. Now she understood why the elves went into hiding. Why would they want to live among humans, an innately selfish and despicable species?
“I don’t see any possibilities.” Flare leaned back in his chair and severed his focus from the map. “Maybe it really is just a myth, a story to lighten hearts on a particularly miserable day.”
“I don’t know…” Bridge pulled his gaze away from the map. “There’s never been any sign of Aiken, living or dead. We would have heard something by now.”
“True.” Flare nodded in agreement.
“Who’s Aiken?” Cora wasn’t sure if she should even bother asking questions anymore.
Bridge eyed Flare, sympathy in his expression. “We can’t keep her in the dark about everything.”
“Thank you.” Cora slammed her fist against the table. “About time someone said it.”
Flare’s reaction didn’t change. “No.”
“No?” Cora was approaching a meltdown. She was about to destroy everything in that kitchen, including the two of them. Unsure what lay in the outside world, she’d rather stick with Flare. But if she was going to be treated like a criminal every step of the way, then it wasn’t worth it.
She jumped to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve been nothing but a trusted ally. The only reason I got mixed up with the guards in Polox was because I was trying to get you a healing potion. I’ve proven myself time and time again. If you’re going to continue to ostracize me, then there’s no reason for me to be here.” She stormed off and headed to the doorway.
Flare wore a blank expression, like he didn’t believe her charade was true.
She was about to prove just how wrong he was. “Good luck to you and all your endeavors. I sincerely hope we don’t meet again.” She marched up the stairs and gathered her pack and supplies. Her sword leaned against the wall in the corner. It was the most powerful blade she would ever possess, but it felt wrong to take it, especially when it was made of Flare’s scales. Even though it left her feeling ill, she abandoned it and headed to the door.
Neither of the men came after her, and that was perfectly fine with her. She was tired of being treated like a child, when Flare knew exactly how valuable she was. She left the house and slammed the door behind her.
The sky was dark with heavy rain clouds. A storm was coming in and would undoubtedly be a strong one. In the wilderness, she would be soaked to the bone and freezing cold.
But that was better than staying there.
She pulled up her hood then headed to the gate. She hadn’t taken ten steps before a firm hand pulled her back.
“Get your ass back inside.” Flare’s hood was pulled up, but his face was still visible up close.
“Am I your prisoner?”
“No.”
“Then let me go.” She twisted from his grasp and stepped away.
Flare grabbed her again. “Fine. You win.”
“Win what, exactly?”
His face was contorted in a look of pure irritation. Admitting defeat wasn’t easy for him, especially when a woman bested him. “I will include you from now on.”
“No more secrets?”
He clenched his jaw.
“No more secrets, or I’m gone.”
“I’ll tell you most of my secrets—but not all of them. That’s the best I can give you.” His eyes burned with their usual intensity, and the truth rang loud like a bell. This was the best offer he would make. If she didn’t take it, he would let her go.
She wanted more than that, to be treated as a partner the way he treated Bridge. But she was only going to get so much from this man. Some secrets were fine. She had a few of her own. How could she expect him to give more than she was willing to give herself? “Deal.”
Flare poured a glass of scotch then slid it across the table toward her.
She eyed the glass before she brought it to her lips and took a drink.
“According to legend, myth, folklore—whatever—the remaining free dragons fled Anastille before they could be enslaved. It’s unclear where they went, but it must be a distant island. The only other possibility is with the elves, but that seems farfetched. The elves wouldn’t grant them asylum, not when their own lives are on the line.” Flare held her gaze as he spoke, his glass resting in his fingers.
Despite her calm face, her heart was beating painfully hard. “What about the dwarves? Could they have gone with them?”
“Underground?” Bridge didn’t hide his incredulity. “Unlikely.”
“Why?” What was so obvious to him but not to her?
“Dragons have a difficult time getting around as it is.” Flare’s voice didn’t contain the same arrogance as it had before. He was talking to her in a different way, treating her as an equal for once. “It’s unlikely they could venture underground and live among dwarves. Also, dragons hate being underground. They need to be as close to the open sky as possible—trust me on that one.”
Now that she knew the reason, she realized how stupid her guess was. “Makes sense. But how sure are you the dragons escaped to an island?”
“Not sure at all,” Bridge answered. “There’s no way to know.”
Flare took over. “The only evidence we have is Aiken. No one can recount what happened to him. His body was never recovered, and as far as anyone knows, he never fused with a human—no matter how much they tortured him. He was one of the few dragons who was strong enough to resist dark magic.”
So, there was hope. “What do you think, Flare?”
“What I think is irrelevant.” Flare took a drink of his scotch and closed his eyes as it moved down his throat.
“But as a dragon, you must have some kind of opinion.” Cora didn’t understand the full effects of fusing with a dragon, but she could only assume his intuition and intelligence were heightened.
Flare’s face relaxed as he considered the question. He became quiet, his fingertips resting on his lips. “As a man, I have no inclination either way. Humans tend to make up stories to comfort themselves in times of trial, so these assumptions aren’t valid in my eyes. However, the dragon has a different opinion. Knowing Aiken himself, he believes these stories are true.”
Her heart thudded against her rib cage with every beat. “Really?”
“That’s his opinion.” Flare spoke without an ounce of emotion. “And I trust what he says.”
“That’s great.” Her heart did the talking while her mind took a rest. “That means there is hope. If we can find these dragons, we could have an army to take down King Lux.”
“Not so fast.” Flare held up a finger. “First, we have to figure out where they are. The ocean is a big place.”
“But we know it’s within flying distance.” Cora knew dragons were strong and could travel for leagues, but they couldn’t go on forever. “So, it can’t be that far away.”
Flare chuckled. “You don’t understand just how far dragons can travel. Keep in mind, if I don’t find the island, I have to turn back…and I doubt I could travel that entire distance without stopping.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “We could take a ship.”
“The only ships available are at the harbors. Guards are watching them, and it wouldn’t be an easy task to steal one. Besides, even if we were successful, they would just chase us down and sink our ship.” Bridge grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass.
“Talk about a mood kill…” Cora took a drink.
“I’ve got to be the voice of reason.” Bridge eyed Flare. “It’s saved his life a few times.”
“Well…what should we do?” She asked the question hesitantly because she suspected there wasn’t an answer.
Flare rubbed the scruff of his chin before he spoke. “For argument’s sake, even if we do find this island and there are enough dragons there that we can somehow convince to fly back to Anastille to help us win back the throne, that still wouldn’t be enough. We’d need soldiers, an uprising.”
“Wouldn’t people volunteer immediately?” Cora knew she would.
“Unlikely,” Bridge said. “If they speak out in opposition to the king, they’re risking their lives and their families.”
