Page 60 of Heart of Shadows

“We ought to take the stone and be done with her and this damned charade,” said Erika with no shadow of hesitation.

“You know that’s not the right thing to do,” said Ragnar, giving her a baleful glare.

“Hasn’t stopped us before,” she snapped.

“We take from those who deserve it, or can afford it, to help those in more need. Harper does not fit that. Never have we taken from anyone who could not afford it.”

Erika scoffed at him.

“He’s right,” Aedon said, running a hand through his tousled hair. “We cannot take it.”

“Not even if she leaves?” Erika sprang to her feet, pointing after Harper. “That girl could walk away with the only way to cure those villagers—who knows how many more are infected by now—and you’d be happy to let that happen? Are you insane?”

“Erika,” Aedon snapped. “For once, it’s not so black and white.”

“You’re right. This is all kinds of shades of grey. You like her, don’t you?” Erika fired at Aedon, eyes narrowing.

“That’s not it,” he replied steadily.

“Then what is it? You seem awfully familiar with her.”

“I do what I must to protect us.”

Erika scoffed. “This has strayed beyond you using your charm to keep her close, elf. Why are you so protective of her? She’s a stranger. She means nothing to us and is standing in our way. Life would be a lot bloody easier without her right now.”

Aedon winced. “Admittedly so. But I stand by what I say. We do not take from those who can ill-afford it.”

“Since when have you been so vaguely charitable?”

“Erika,” Brand’s voice rang with warning.

“No, I don’t care. We all know his past. Well, boo. We all have terrible shadows behind us. I’m not going to mince my words to spare his feelings about a girl who means nothing to us.”

Aedon swallowed. “You’re right, Erika. We all have darkness behind us, but that’s all the more reason to move forward into the light. It doesn’t sit well with me to take the stone from Harper. But more than that, I sense something in her. I’m not sure what. At first, I thought she could be dangerous or malevolent, but it’s clear she’s neither. In fact, she doesn’t have the first clue about the potential she contains, nor whatever connection she has to the Mark of Saradon.”

“What is it?” Ragnar asked.

“I still don’t know.” Aedon frowned. “Whoever she is, aside from the Dragonheart, she needs our protection. She couldn’t survive here alone. At least with her close, so is the stone. Whatever her fate, her origins, her purpose, she runs with us—for now.”

“Harper is a good person,” said Ragnar, his glare daring Erika to argue with him. “We’ll make it right.” His attention turned to Aedon once more. “In the morning, once all this has blown over, we’ll come clean with her and ask for her help—for the stone.”

“She won’t say yes,” Erika said flatly. “She thinks the Dragonheart is her only way back.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll find a way to help her,” Ragnar said firmly.

Erika let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. “Good luck with that.”

That night, Aedon remained too unsettled to rest. He watched Harper’s still form, peaceful, her torso rising gently with each soft breath, and wondered if she slept, or whether, like him, writhing thoughts kept her awake too.

Were they doing the right thing, giving her a choice, rather than taking the Dragonheart by force? She was so determined to single-mindedly follow her desire to petition the king for a way back home to the life she so hated. He could not make sense of it. If push came to shove, they needed that Dragonheart—and he knew that he would take it by any means necessary. Despite his nefarious reputation, that rankled.

44

HARPER

Harper had returned long after dark, guided back by the slowly dying fire. Her heart hammered in her chest, afraid of what she would find, but she need not have worried. The camp slumbered. With the silent grace of a practised hunter, she slipped into her bedding with hardly a rustle, turned over, and eventually drifted off to sleep, her mind a whirring jumble of thoughts that took an age to settle.

A crunch of twigs snapping tore her from sleep. Harper’s eyes flickered open, widening at the shadow looming over her. She shrieked and threw the cloak back, a knife already in her hand and swiping out at the shadow. The rest of the camp roused at the noise as Erika stumbled backwards to avoid the slicing blade, swearing. She lunged and grasped Harper’s wrist, squeezing until Harper dropped the knife. Harper howled in pain and clutched her arm as Erika released her. Erika flung the knife away, which landed in the fire just as Ragnar threw on a fresh log to light up the situation. As Erika dodged the sparks, firelight illuminated her.

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