Page 12 of Dragon Gods

The only people they passed were huddled in shadowy corners of alleys or swaying as they made their way down the street. Flor walked with one hand on her club, staring down anyone who dared make eye contact with her. The small blunt weapon was the only one Dragonborn were allowed legally by the crown. Sofia, branded for treason, wasn’t even allowed that. She’d simply taken to wearing enough iron rings on her right hand that any passerby might second guess trying to rob her. The smell of the city felt suffocating, even at night when the worst of the filth was hidden by the dark, but she could still smell the human feces that lined the alleys and the constantly thick stench of sweat and vomit and grime that coated her throat when she breathed. She hated it here, even though the inn had been their home for five cycles and every night in the small and dirty-floored room was better than a night on the streets.

The back rooms at the Wall’s Inn where she and Flor rented a space were relatively quiet when they arrived, the other employees who lived there having gone to sleep hours before. But even back here, the sounds of the inn seeped through the walls, moans and slurred curses, the sounds of passion that constantly vacillated between pain and pleasure, anger and lust. Alcohol and sex: the chorus of the city as Sofia had come to know it. She’d gotten used to falling asleep to the sounds of grunting men and yelling women after a sun cycle living here, but it was always a bit of a shock returning from the forest.

Sofia didn’t even bother changing out of her dirty travel clothes. She simply slipped her muddy sandals off, haphazardly wiped her feet on the meager rug in the center of their small room, and flopped onto her cot. Her eyes were already closed and she didn’t even hear Flor finish changing before she was asleep, the sounds of a woman’s long, overdrawn moan through the wall the last thing she heard.

CHAPTERSIX

SOFIA

The next few days went by in the same steady and slow monotony as always, Sofia’s mind barely registering a difference between each morning and evening. Frankie hadn’t blinked when they had shown up to work a day early and she was all too happy to assign them work. Sofia cleaned the rooms she was assigned and scrubbed the pots and pans after each meal, Flor working beside her. They listened carefully through the walls and to the gossip, waiting for some mention of the soldier that had gone missing or the king’s current mood, but nothing of consequence was said. Even the women who serviced the soldiers at night, at least those Flor and Sofia were friends with, hadn’t heard anything of use during the past week. Sofia was beginning to wonder if the chief commander was simply planning on hiding the kidnapping of his general’s son.

The morning she woke up for her last day of work something felt different. The clouds that had blown in over the last few days were gone, and the small hole cut high on the wall of their room that acted as a window was letting in a breeze bordering on pleasant. Flor was already awake, washing her face in the small basin in the corner.

She turned and looked at where Sofia was stretching, sleep still heavy in her eyes. “Can you braid my hair?”

Sofia gave a small smile and motioned for Flor to sit back on her cot. The shorter woman gave a soft hum as Sofia combed her fingers through her hair, slowly taking out the knots that had accumulated through the past few days. This small ritual of theirs had started when they were still living on the streets together. Sofia’s mother had taught her how to braid when she’d been younger but Flor barely even remembered her mother. From what she knew, her father had been a Dereyan man who’d knocked her mother up and then left her without a backward glance. By the time Flor was four, her mother had died of pneumonia, leaving Flor to fend for herself. She had been on the streets for cycles before she found Sofia.

“You know I could teach you how to braid your own hair?” Sofia said as she twisted the strands of red hair between her hands. She’d had to relearn the technique after she’d lost her finger, but the moves were second nature once more.

“But then I wouldn’t have an excuse for you to do this,” she said simply. Sofia laughed and tugged lightly at the hair.

Breakfast was nearly done by the time they made it into the kitchens, Flor snagging two burned rolls from on top of the garbage, handing one to Sofia. She ate it in two bites, happy it was still warm even if the burned crust of the dough left a bitter taste on her tongue. She’d eaten worse.

Frankie didn’t even look up from where she was scribbling symbols into a notebook.

“Flor, start on the pans and Sofia,hewas asking for you this morning. I don’t know if he’s still there, but clean the tables off while you’re out there. Charo’s late again. We’re closing at midday for a mandatory meeting in the square, so be quick about it.”

Sofia’s stomach dropped and she met Flor’s eyes. A mandatory meeting likely meant no good, but Sofia knew exactly whathimwas asking for her and it gave her some measure of hope. Perhaps he had good news. Flor’s face was grim, but neither of them could say anything in front of Frankie. While she was one of the few women willing to hire someone marked for treason, Sofia doubted her patience with rebels stretched so far as to tolerate outward resistance.

So instead, she turned away from Flor and swallowed back her emotions. Her nails dug into the skin on her hand until she could breathe again. She gave a sharp nod that Frankie didn’t acknowledge and then grabbed a tray from the counter and made her way out into the dining hall through the narrow doorway.

Despite the late hour, the hall itself was teeming with people. The majority of the patrons at the inn were off duty soldiers. It was situated near the edge of the barracks and few Dragonborn who lived in the slums had the money to afford even a warm ale. Sofia usually tried to avoid being out and about in front of the soldiers, who were often drunk before lunch, taking advantage of every moment of their leave. Some of the soldiers were eating their breakfasts quietly, but another handful were already throwing back ales and talking loudly next to the fire. A few of the inn’s workers were sitting on the men’s laps, happily taking their own sips from the ale and nibbling from their plates. She didn’t envy the women, knowing too well how they felt about the men they bedded for coin each night.

Frankie had spent the last few cycles trying to convince Sofia and Flor to join the ranks of working women. It paid well and would have been a more efficient way of gaining access to information and gossip, but Flor couldn’t stand the sight of a man’s penis and Sofia was just as likely to stab one of the soldiers out of pure bitterness as she was to bring him to orgasm.

She didn’t see Vato among the crowd, but the lone soldiers had their heads down and were minding their business. She avoided the tables near the fire, picking up the dishes around the rest of the dining hall first, trying her best not to draw attention. When a hand fell over her own as she reached to grab an empty glass, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Fuck,” she cursed under her breath when she saw the bright green eyes of Vato looking back at her. She took stock of the table and room, but the man was alone and no one in the room had heard her exclamation.

“I can’t stay, but there is a meeting today,” he said, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap. She hated this part, but it was the only way for them to talk without drawing attention.

She let out a huff of frustration, but moved forward, pressing herself closer to him. “I know. Is it?—?”

“I think. The general’s been tight lipped. You captured him? Alive?” He whispered the words in her ear, brushing her hair back. She let out an involuntary shudder at the feather-light touch. He wasn’t unattractive, but Sofia never mixed business with pleasure, and she hated that her body couldn’t always tell the difference.

“Yes. We have him and he’s alive for now. But gods, it was his damn son! It wasn’t supposed?—”

“I just came to make sure everything went to plan. I have to go.”

He pushed her back with a splayed hand. It was gentle enough, but she let herself stumble as she stepped back giving him a snarl.

“Prude, I didn’t want nothing anyway,” he slurred the words, loud enough for the table next to them to hear. He stood, giving her one last look before he walked out. She was left with shaky knees and no more information than she started with.

* * *

Sofia spentanother twenty minutes clearing the tables as Frankie had ordered. There were half-eaten portions on plates left at tables from breakfast that still hadn’t been cleaned and Sofia wondered again where Charo was. This wasn’t the first time the woman had shown up late to work, but Frankie had never even threatened to fire her. Of course, Sofia also knew Charo had two kids at home and her husband was all but dead working on the labor farms. Frankie might have acted like a hard ass most days, but Sofia was pretty sure there was a soft heart under her biting exterior.

Once the rest of the tables were cleared, Sofia made her way over to the rowdy bunch of soldiers. They’d already gone through another round of drinks and the way the large man at the end of the table was gripping the woman on his lap made her lip curl. She recognized the woman’s bronze hair and freckled skin—Belen. She kept her head down as she grabbed the empty cups from their table—enough that she knew they were on their fifth or sixth round already. Four of the five men were still wearing their uniforms, the insignias ranging from high scout to the one holding Belen showing the rank of junior sergeant. They weren’t required to wear their uniforms off duty, but she knew they did so to ensure they could throw their weight around. No Dragonborn, no matter how highborn or wealthy would mess with the king’s soldiers.

---