Page 6 of Dragon Gods

“You’re late,” Ms. Garcia said as she came into the kitchens, nearly gasping at the change in temperature. The cooking fires were roaring heartily and the air was thick with beans and stew.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice soft and words automatic. Pointing out that Liza hadn’t helped with her duties and she’d been left to finish and clean up alone wouldn’t do any good.

“That’s the third time this week. Plus the broken vase, yesterday.” Ms. Garcia loved listing her crimes. It was best to keep her mouth shut and look properly ashamed. There was always a list, no matter how fast she moved or how much her fingers bled from scrubbing.

“Well go on then, take your coins and go before you miss curfew!” she snapped, as if Sofia had been the one slowing down the exchange. But she dutifully jumped forward, letting the rounded woman place the pitiful pile of coins in her hand.

“You’re two short,” she said, before she could berate herself for even daring.

The slap barely echoed in the din of the kitchens, not a single worker even flinching or turning their head in acknowledgment of the act. Her cheek stung and she couldn’t quite bite back the wetness along her eyes.

“That’s for the broken vase. Now get out before I deduct another for your insolence. The master doesn’t allow for sloth in his house. If you don’t like the job, you can go beg on the streets like the rest of your kind.”

Sofia bowed low, hiding her face as the tears threatened to spill over. Her face was hot and her stomach churned with ineffectual rage, but the words she wanted to say stay locked behind her tongue.

“Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I don’t know what got into me.” She kept her back bent as she backed away, not looking up from the ground until she saw the woman’s shoes turn. Ms. Garcia was paying attention to someone else now and Sofia was invisible once more. Nothing and no one. She scuttled out of the kitchens before anyone could notice the small bread roll she’d slipped into her hand during her pleading.

She ate it in two bites once she was out the door, coins already tucked into her pockets, along with a rag. It was never safe to walk home through the slums with her pockets clanging with coins. The icy air cooled the heat of her anger, but the shame still quaked just beneath the surface. She pressed her fists into her eyes until the burning stopped.

She barely made it out of the royal quarter before dark. The guards at the gates gave her a heavy scowl as she ran the last block, bowing low as they locked the doors behind her. Only a few minutes later and she would have been locked in on the other side. It had happened once before to her, and she’d spent the night shivering in the shadows, trying to stay silent as her stomach growled and her teeth clicked together. It was worth an arrest and whipping to be caught in the military or royal quarters after curfew without a pass and she was never given a pass, even on the days her shifts went long.

Once she was into the outer quarter, she slowed down, no longer desperate to get home. Her parents would notice the missing coins and she’d need to explain how she’d managed to break a vase. The fact that Liza had told her to clean it despite the delicate piece sitting two feet above her head wouldn’t stop the disappointment from filling her mother’s eyes as she tucked the coins away in their box. They’d be hungry again this week, and whether or not her mother said it out loud, it was Sofia’s fault. So instead of turning right at the first corner, she went straight, ignoring the numbness in her fingers as the cold of night set in. She found the grimy alley with the barely standing building and its crumbled staircase just inside the cracked wall. Her footsteps were careful, each weakness in the steps memorized.

But the view was worth the delay. As she came out onto the roof of the old building, she could see the small and evenly spaced fires that marked the outer wall. And beyond that, the rainforest. It glowed, green and purple and blue. Above it, the two moons of the dragon mother rose, large and unblinking. From where she stood on the edge of the roof, it felt like she might reach out and brush her fingers across the tops of the trees. Would they be soft like grass or rough like the spiky weeds that grew along the canal’s shore?

But of course she couldn’t touch the trees and she never would. The forest might as well have been a million miles away. As much myth as the dragons that once watched over their land.

She closed her eyes and said a prayer—not to the old kings, but to the dragons—unsure if anyone was left listening. She prayed that tomorrow nothing would go wrong and she might walk home with her chin held high. She prayed that she’d make her parents proud and she might be the best worker the master had ever seen. Because that’s all she could hope for.

CHAPTERFOUR

FOX

Fox saw the victory in her eyes in the same moment he heard the bow string. He didn’t even have time to register what direction the sound had come from as two figures dropped from the trees above, one on either side. He shoved his captive hard in the chest, satisfied as she fell back on her ass with an indignant yelp, and he pulled his sword.

But before he could do more than step forward, cold metal pressed against the back of his neck, just beneath his hairline.

“Drop it.”

He froze, calculating his chances against three armed Dragonborn and the tied woman at his feet.

“If you prefer to keep your blood inside your body, I’d listen to her,” another voice said. An older man stepped out from behind a thick bush and moved toward where the woman was lying, bruised from her fall but smiling. He was an imposing figure, with broad shoulders and an air about him that told Fox he was used to having his commands followed. His hair was gray and curled around his covered face.

They all had matching masks to the one the woman had been wearing, blocking their faces. Not that it mattered to him. They were treasonous scum and he’d kill them whether or not he knew what they looked like.

The tip of the weapon at his neck pricked his skin once more as its wielder brought it around the side of his neck and against his throat. It was a dagger by the feel of it, sharp enough a drop of blood leaked from where it had nicked his skin.

He dropped his sword, hand spasming with reluctance.

The blade on his neck didn’t waver as unseen hands made quick work of his belt and harness, his weapons falling to the forest floor along with what he’d gotten off the Dragonborn—the apparent bait for the trap he’d fallen into.

At last, the cold bite of the dagger left his neck and he was pressed to his knees. He took the chance to examine the people who had surrounded him.

There was the older man, who had untied the young woman and was whispering sharply in her ear. There were also two younger men holding arrows on him, both with unremarkable brown locks. The person behind him finally came around once his hands were tied and he saw the long dark hair that was braided down her back. She was taller than even the woman he’d first captured, nearly his own height. Maybe they were on to something when they said these people were born from dragons.

“You two,” the older man snapped, drawing Fox’s attention. “Follow their tracks back to where he captured her. She says she left behind a boar and some more game.”

“I can lead them back,” the woman said. His captive—or now his captor, he thought bitterly—looked petulant.

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