Page 56 of Between Despair and Hope

“I know,” I said, voice more curt than intended.

“I know you know. I also know it’s going to drive you mad until he’s back to normal. All I can say is give him space when he needs it.”

My touch was soft as the injured dragon let me approach, Thyra and the novice backing away. I let my fingertips graze the muscular wing, and she huffed a pained breath. Ignoring the pinch in my own arm, I pulled gently, stretching the membrane so I could get to the shaft of the arrow.

“You’re alright, darling,” I cooed.

Thyra had her hand on the dragon’s snout, whispering something in her language.

“I don’t need you telling me how to handle him,” I said, continuing my conversation with Dewalt. “If I hold her like this, can you pull out the arrow?”

My friend nodded, dropping to his knees to get below the wing. When he broke the tip off, my arm flared with pain.

Shit.

“I suppose you have a point. I only had to deal with Rainier for over a decade when he was in a bad mental place. What do I know?” Dewalt said, standing once more to pull the arrow out.

I dropped her wing as pain and relief seared through my arm, and the dragon was in the air a moment later, following the others. I fell on my ass, unable to catch myself. Dewalt’s hair was unbound, whipped loose during the flight back, and he stood over me, shirtless, with his hands on his hips.

“Don’t you need to go bathe and find some clothes?” I sniped.

Thyra laughed, deep and hearty. “Then how would he show off for pretty woman?” She asked, quiet enough only I heard her.

“What was that, Thyra? Do you need a hug?” Dewalt walked toward her, arms outstretched and his noxious scent filling the air. Thyra backed up, stumbling, disgust clear on her features as Dewalt moved with a purpose. They were tussling a moment later as I pulled myself from the ground.

“Your Majesty?” A quiet voice sounded behind me, and I turned. It was the woman who rode with Dewalt. In the sun’s light, I saw the black eye she sported, and I wondered what happened to her. Led by instinct, I took a step forward and lifted my hand. She stumbled back before I realized what I was doing.

“I’m sorry. Can I heal you?”

“You—you want to healme? I’ll be fine, it’s just a black eye.”

“I know you will, but why suffer longer than you have to if I can fix it?” She watched me with a wary gaze, and I saw her eyes dart over to Dewalt. He sighed loudly as he effortlessly held Thyra in a headlock.

“Let her heal you, Nor. She’s not going to hurt you.” Thyra shoved a thumb into his eye and he yelped, cursing. “Why don’t you do something for her stomach while you’re at it?”

“It was your stench that made me sick!” Nor yelled at him, and I couldn’t help my smile. When she turned back to look at me, her face was flushed. “Is he always so intolerable?”

I snorted as I stepped toward her, lightly tracing my fingertips across her brow. “To be fair, I think anyone would be a bit grumpy with vomit down their back. But he did smell rather putrid; that isn’t your fault.”

It earned me a smile. She was very pretty, with bright brown eyes, a ring of gold in their center, and there was a sparse smattering of freckles across her light-brown cheeks which told me she’d wear quite a lot of them in the summer. Her dark hair fell in waves over wiry shoulders. She was taller than me, thin, and her clothes hung off her, torn and covered in soot as they were. I wondered why she ended up with us, and I wanted to get to know her since Dewalt thought bringing her to the Cascade with us was a good idea. He could have sent her off with the other novices but had chosen not to.

“Dewalt called you Nor? I’m Emmeline, though you probably know that already.” She nodded slightly, trying not to move.

“Yes, I go by Nor.”

“Are you from Folterra?” She didn’t have the accent.

“No, I’m from Vesta, from the capital.” That explained why we brought her with us. I took a quick breath when I realized what it meant.

“Did you live at the temple? Is that where we need to take you?”

“I did, but—no. I won’t be going back there. Well, I suppose I do need to go there, but not to stay. My mother…” She trailed off, and I nodded. I studied her face, trying to place her age—I supposed she was in her mid-twenties.

“Will the Myriad not miss you?” Carefully, I listened to her heart; I was uncertain of her loyalties, and I wanted to be sure. Pulling my hand away, my eyes traced over the rest of her for other injuries. Her sleeve was torn, and I saw an old burn on her skin, which she covered with her hand when she noticed my eyes linger there.

“The Myriad will not even know I am missing. They’re the ones who sent us there. Master—” She took a deep breath and eyed me warily. “Me and the other novices were all sent to Folterra for Declan to use, degrade, and kill as he saw fit. Between him and the fire, only a third of us survived.”

My stomach dropped out. At what Declan had done, but also at what Nor had said.

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