Page 57 of Heart of Shadows

Ralkan pointed at a child. “Him. Children first.” The villagers nodded, muttering and pushing their young forward.

“Form a line,” Aedon called. “One at a time.”

They trudged forward, each offering their upturned faces to him as he carefully dripped one drop of the cure on each of their tongues. The women stepped forward next, youngest to oldest, until the vial was empty save for three, last drops. That which they could not afford to give, for it would be the only way to secure more.

“No more,” Aedon said, slipping the vial inside his breast pocket once more. “I’m sorry.” Half the women remained, and all the menfolk. But no one glared at him. With wondrous expressions and a light in their eyes, the villagers surrounded their young, who already seemed to have a little more spring in their step.

“I can feel it. Magic,” Ralkan said hoarsely.

“It’ll take a little while, but they will recover. Now, keep to yourselves. Do not stray from the village. Woe betide that this should spread,” Aedon warned. “We’ll return as soon as we may.”

“Dragon’s speed to you,” Ralkan said.

“You’re in a good mood today, aren’t you?” Aedon grinned at Harper. He had lightened in spirits since they had left the village earlier, as though he had left his sorrow behind. Harper was glad to be away from the place too. It had been a draining experience to see such hopelessness. He had regained some of the spring in his step and twinkle in his eye. She knew he would be distracted by the thought of a new adventure, though she suspected mostly because of the illicit nature of it.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Tournai. Dragons, magic, and the king, and all.” It was enough distraction from her sore, throbbing feet to wonder at what lay ahead. And easier to distract herself with what was to come, not what they had left.

Aedon shot her a sideways glance. “You might not see the king, you know. He’s not the type to wander around the streets of Tournai. I don’t know any king who does.”

“Well, then, I’ll go to him.”

“And what? Receive his blessing and his help to return to Caledan?”

“Yes.” She could see it now. Kneeling in a grand hall before a throne. The king would sit upon it, regally benevolent. His face shadowed. Perhaps he would have a beard. A kind smile, too, and a grace beyond anything she had seen. He would be exceptionally grateful for her gifted Dragonheart—and only too happy to return her to Caledan and send aid to the village. Nothing like the miserly and mean lord of her lands only seen from afar on feast days in the town. She frowned. Somehow, the image of the noble king blurred into the image of the Lord Denholme, greed and anger marring his stern visage.

“What then? You’ll return to your old life?” Aedon interrupted her thoughts.

Harper stilled. She had only thought about returning—not what might come after.

“What is it?” Aedon pressed, his hand brushing her arm.

Not able to bear his touch, she surged away as though he had stung her. Guilt and longing warred within her—the Dragonheart was her way home. Hers. Whether it could save lives or not was irrelevant—she owed nothing to anyone. She’d always taken care of herself. No one save Betta had ever looked out for her. But, no matter how many times she told herself that, guilt seethed sourly inside her. “I don’t want to go back to that life,” she admitted. “I have to return, though. At least to Caledan. What else do I know? Betta needs me.”

“What if you didn’t have to return? What would you do?” He stood closer now. His hand dropped away.

Harper met his eyes. “I’d… travel, I suppose. Find a new home. Adventure. I’d find a way.”

Aedon cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really? What kind of adventure?”

Emboldened, she continued. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved reading about and hearing tales of dragons, knights, and epic quests. I dreamed about being like the heroes in the stories. Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“Hmm.” He gestured around. “Is this adventure not grand enough for you?”

Harper laughed. “I suppose this is an adventure of sorts. I’ve always imagined becoming a dragon-rider or something grand, like the old tales of Ulric and the Dragon.”

“Hmm. I haven’t heard of that one. I imagine that’s not impossible,” Aedon said, though she could see his suppressed smile.

“Really?” she burst out, unable to help herself. I wonder if I could trade my Dragonheart for a place with the king’s dragon-riders, she thought, all ideas of returning to her dreary life in Caledan lost for a moment.

“You do realise it’s not that simple, right?” His lip curled and her heart sank. He was toying with her. That stung.

“How so?”

“He means that you can’t just stroll up to the capital city—or the king, for that matter—and decide to be a dragon-rider,” Brand said from behind them, making her turn to look at him. “It’s more complex than that.”

“Go on.”

“Well, for starters, to become one of the Winged Kingsguard, you must have trained with the Royal Kingsguard for many years, starting your apprenticeship young. It’s not unheard of for someone to be taken on at your age, but it’s certainly unusual.” Brand quickened his pace to draw level with her and Aedon. “Then there’s the matter of being accepted for the training. You already have to be proficient in a number of physical and magical combats and arts, as well as rounded in your education.”

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