Page 48 of The Last Dragon

Cassian found himself imagining the impossible: a future in which he wouldn’t have to tear out that heart to bring his own people back. A future where he could whisper his secret into this elf’s ear, place his truth in his hands, and hope to see not terror there, but an alliance. To spare the elf… was to jeopardize the resurrection of an entire species. And yet, as he watched Tariel sleep, the idea of sacrificing him seemed almost absurd.

After a while, he extricated himself with infinite care, sliding out of the makeshift bed with effort. Every movement reminded him of his physical fragility. In his nakedness, he noticed the bandages wrapped around his torso and arms: a checkerboard pattern of white cloth, some still pristine, others stained with red.

As he sat up to grab the clean clothes Rhazek had left for him, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The healing flesh on his side and shoulder suddenly tightened; that sharp, tugging sensation—that life reclaiming itself through pain—was something he hadn’t felt in an eternity. He had to lean against a tent pole, biting his tongue to keep from cursing, his eyes fixed on the sleeping figure of the elf.

Rhazek must surely have seen them like that—entwined in sleep. Cassian cleared his throat, a hint of embarrassment battling with the gravity of his thoughts.

The outside world awaited them with its wars and lies, but in the still air of the tent, the elf’s scent and the warmth of the sheets still haunted him. He was a dragon who was beginning to grow fond of his tormentor, and this growing affection worried him.

“Why does it have to hurt so much in this form…” he muttered, turning away before walking outside while massaging his temples.

He made his way to the familiar stream flowing nearby to dip his hands in and splash some cool water on his face. Footsteps rustled the grass behind him, and a woman’s voice rang out, “How many more times are you going to risk your life? Don’t you have the option of settling down somewhere that knows neither battle nor war?”

“I’m not sure Ennevia has that to offer me, Seris.”

He gave a faint smile as he put his top back on, mindful of his bandages, before facing the woman who was glad to see her friend in better shape than the day before.

“You must have really been in a critical situation to come back here by invoking Rhazek’s totem spirit.”

“Let’s just say you were my only refuge where I was sure Tariel wouldn’t be in immediate danger.”

She approached and set a small plate of food before him on a log—an unappetizing porridge, but one reputed to restore strength. She stood near him, arms crossed, watching him with such intensity that he shifted uneasily on that very same log he was now sitting on.

“That elf… It’s unusual to see you in such company. Is there something different about him? We’ve all sensed it, he carries something within him that we can’t quite define, but…”

“He’s under my protection.”

Cassian had replied without looking up from his plate, in a tone meant to be definitive, but Seris merely gave a wry smile and tilted his head slightly.

“That makes it even stranger.”

“Seris, don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m looking at you the way I always do. Is there something going on between you two?”

Cassian, who was eating slowly to spare his knotted stomach, nearly choked. He widened his eyes in astonishment as Seris patted him on the back with feigned innocence.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what I can obviously see.”

A silence fell. The dragon took another spoonful to ignore the question… or the facts—whatever. Seris possessed that fateful insight that seemed to see right through his defenses. He silently thanked the heavens as he watched Rhazek return from the hunt in the distance, unloading his game with a vigor that stood in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere at that makeshift table. Rhazek waved to them as he approached, wiping his calloused hands on his leather pants.

“Hello, Cassian! I’m glad to see you’re looking better. How are your wounds?”

“I’m feeling better. Seris and your daughters always know what to do, even if they have to strip me down to do it.”

A hearty laugh escaped the warrior’s wife. She stepped aside to make room for her husband, approaching Rhazek’s mount to stroke the animal’s neck while the warrior placed a friendly hand on Cassian’s shoulder.

“Can Tariel and I stay for a few days, until things calm down?”

“You don’t need to ask—you’re at home here,” Rhazek replied before scanning the main tent for the elf. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s resting. I plan to train him a bit today.”

Rhazek frowned, glancing at the bandages sticking out from under the mercenary’s tunic.

“In your condition? That’s out of the question. Let my son handle it. What do you want to teach him?”