Page 64 of Fated Flames: Volume Two
The creature stalking toward me is caught somewhere between man and beast. Skin and scales intermingle. Anelongated jaw gnashes over far too many teeth. A single, malformed wing snaps open and shut behind him in agitation. He mutters to himself as he walks, and it suddenly strikes me how eerily quiet it is here, as if everyone had been sent away.
Or they retreated in fear.
A few days ago, I would have wanted to as well.
“Soren.”
Eyes, nearly feverish in their intensity, lift to me, and my heart swells with pity.
What has happened to him?
“Princess,” he grinds out. The word is garbled by the multitude of teeth. Even as I watch, the point of one sharpened fang pierces his lip, and a drop of blood trickles down his face. He doesn’t seem to notice.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask softly, my pulse thundering in my ears.
He scans the sky but doesn’t answer.
From the corner of my eye, I mark Boyd, Fuller, and now Yarl creeping nearer. Do they fear he’ll hurt me?
“She can’t have you,” Soren rumbles, still watching the sky.
Despite the cooling air, a bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck, but I clasp my hands in front of me in the very picture of calm. “Who?”
Again, he gives no answer. In sharp contrast, the water continues its unending refrain, now in singsong form.
Go away, away, awayyy.
I’ve never met with something so aggravating.
Shush, I snap. Normally, I’d never speak to water this way, but then again, I’ve never dealt with water like this.
Mercifully, the voice quiets.
I take a deep breath and turn my attention back to Soren. “Might you come inside with me for a moment?”
This question he does answer with a shake of his head. “Guarding.”
Against what? “My guards will inform us if there is anything of interest.”
He doesn’t so much as glance their way, though they’ve edged even closer. In this state, he may soon see them as a threat to me, but I worry that motioning them to move back will only alert him to their presence. What should I do? I can’t leave him like this.
Mother would. She would turn around, leave him to his own devices, and not concern herself. Celeste would summon tears to move him. Ambril would lift one of her dark brows to make him feel foolish. I stare at my betrothed, at the deep shadows beneath his wild eyes.
I should have come for him sooner.
“My Soren,” I say, and his gaze latches onto mine like a beacon in a storm. “Will you come inside?”
He looks at me, hungry and hopeful all at once, yet he still doesn’t move. I hold a hand out to him.
“Please?”
At that singular word, he sets his clawed hand in mine.
Relief washes over me. I walk us to the entrance of the tent with the strange feeling that I’m leading him away from some nameless precipice, and for the first time, I wonder if there’s a sort of chasm between the man and the dragon that one could slip into if they weren’t careful. At the thought, I grip his hand even tighter.
I’ll not let him fall.
My guards sink back into the shadows of neighboring tents, and I note a slighter figure scampering past themas I guide Soren inside. Poor Tilly. No wonder she was so worried for him. His wing gets caught on the flaps of the entrance, and I stop to gently fold the appendage and guide him inside.
