Page 89 of Dragon Gods

Fox wasn’t sure what would happen after his brother joined the military next cycle. When Leon was no longer there to act as the executioner of his father’s lessons, would he take over or would Fox finally be able to disappear into the stonework of the manor, forgotten by the man he disappointed with his every breath?

Either way, he’d be alone and that thought made his eyes swim. He ducked his head, too afraid to be caught crying, and waited for his brother to return.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

SOFIA

For the first time in a week, Sofia knew where she was going. Not a vague sense of direction or following the sun, but a true understanding of the path back home. Clarita had drawn out a map of where the shapeshifters’ camp was and Sofia had been able to figure out where her own base was from there. They’d missed the entrance back into the tunnels by a mile or two, veering too far west. The flood down the river and trip to the camp had brought them farther off course, but they hadn’t backtracked too far. If her estimates were correct, they’d be back at the base by tonight or tomorrow. That thought made her stomach churn with an unease that she didn’t have the energy to examine. Instead, she focused on the man trudging behind her.

Fox was as quiet as she was as they walked, not questioning the confidence of Sofia’s stride as she blazed the trail toward home. He was following her still, without coercion, and she wondered if he knew he was being led back to the resistance. He’d wake up from whatever stupor he was in eventually and realize where they were going. He’d fight her then, she was sure of it. And then what would she do?

A few days ago things seemed black and white. Fox was on the side of the king and deserved his fate, whatever it would be. But now? Could she convince him to come to their side? Would the others even trust him if he did? Would she?

Time trickled by, as sluggish as their steps through the underbrush. It was in sharp contrast to the thoughts racing through her mind with every passing moment. Fox seemed lost in his own thoughts, communicating with only the occasional grunt as they passed dried meat and fruits between them during a break and then headed out once more.

Despite her hunger, she only managed a few bites of food before her stomach turned and she had to stop. Her mind wouldn’t let her forget the hands that had prepared this food, all of the bodies they’d left behind, unburied and unhonored. She had only known them for a couple of days, but the grief and guilt burned through her. They were just more people she’d failed to protect from the king and his men—more lives laid at her feet.

It was as if the pain of seeing the tribe massacred had opened up the dam she’d built around her grief for Mina. The anguish crashed over her like a wave and all she could do was breathe and hope she didn’t drown in it. She’d learned over the cycles while in the resistance that grief wasn’t a simple emotion to be felt and forgotten. It was a tide, ebbing and flowing in its own rhythm between sadness, hate, and something more. And it was more than missing a person. Grief was the pain of the utter destruction of every moment that could have and should have been—every life that might have been lived, extinguished in a flash.

She should go back. She should tell Clarita and the others. She could only imagine the look on their faces when they returned home to find nothing and no one. And Sofia and Fox would be gone, run off like the ones that massacred them. How would they not blame them?

“It wasn’t your fault.” Fox’s voice startled her and she flushed to see the look of knowing on his face as she met his eyes.

“I wasn’t…I don’t—” she started.

“Your face speaks for itself,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m actually quite surprised you’ve managed to spy as long as you have. You’re way too easy to read.”

“Not all of us can look like we just smelled a dead skunk constantly.”

“You didn’t kill them. If anything, they were looking for me.”

“All that death for a single person? You think you’re that important?”

He didn’t speak for a moment and she wondered if he had taken the small jab as a true insult. But he didn’t look annoyed, just thoughtful.

“I don’t suppose I am. But why else were the king’s men out this far?”

“Maybe they don’t need rational reasons to murder. Not when they don’t even see us as people. Sometimes it feels like we’re screaming at the top of our lungs, trying to remind the crown that we’re human just like the Dereyans. Our children feel the same hunger and bleed the same red.”

“It shouldn’t be your responsibility to convince your government of your humanity.” The words were uncharacteristic and brought Sofia up short, but Fox wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused in the distance as if his mind wasn’t quite there.

“I wish the rest of the country saw it that way. It seems the louder I scream, the less people listen.”

They fell back into silence once more, though perhaps not as hostile as Sofia had expected. It was a comfortable silence, albeit still heavy with sadness and grief.

The sun was low, but still visible through the trees to the west, when Sofia recognized her surroundings—a familiar rocky outcrop. The knot in her chest released. Almost as soon as she noted the sensation, a new tension fell across her shoulders and she stopped, looking around.

“We should make camp here for the night.”

“Are you sure? There’s enough light to keep going for a bit longer.”

“No, this is a good spot to camp. We should take advantage of it.”

The space they were in could barely even be considered a clearing, with only a small patch of ground visible between the underbrush of ferns and vines that knotted the ground. At least there were no large roots and the ground wasn’t sloped. It wasgood enoughat best.

He didn’t argue with her, though the small crease between his brows was not quite wiped away by her flimsy explanation. She wasn’t even sure she could have been honest with him in that moment. It would have meant having to understand her own motivations, swirling in her gut in waves of anxiety, sadness, and anger.

She was finally only a couple hours from home after a week of chaos. She had Fox, ready to return to Micael as her peace offering. And she had a dragon feather tucked safely away in her bag, proof that she’d been right all these cycles with her ramblings about the dragon gods. Yet all she could think about was the softness in Fox’s voice when he’d talked about his brother and the broken bodies they’d left behind. She wasn’t ready to face her people. She was barely ready to face herself.

---