Page 126 of The Last Dragon
“I’m not leaving,” I say. My voice trembles.
“You have to. I’ll handle this myself.”
“Over my dead body.” The words slice through the air, and with them, something inside me stirs. A voice I tried to bury in the back of my mind.
Or hers.
Valous’ voice.
Shit.
Nedersen’s not far. I can make it. I might make it. I have to make it.
I stop thinking. I move. My arms find her waist, lifting her gently from where she’s slumped against the tree. She winces, her leg limp. A ragged breath escapes her as she forces her eyes open. They drift to the horizon in front of us—burning gold—then back to mine. Wider. Still alive. Still here. Still breathing.
“Hold on,” I whisper. She leans in, her weight folding against me. Her red hair, damp with sweat and tangled with blood, brushes against my chin. My lips. The scent of earth and iron and smoke clings to her, sears itself into me. “You have to hold on.”
I slide my arm under her knees and sweep her into my arms, pressing her body against my chest.
And then, I run. I run toward the only place I can think of. The last place I want to go.
Valous’ tavern.
CHAPTER 43
Three knocks is all it takes.
“The price is doubled after midnight!” Valous declares. He flings the door open, with a smile that quickly fades. He scans me from head to toe, with Nida hanging off my neck.
Only one word manages to slip out of me. “Help.”
He smacks his lips, stunned. “Well, the view counts as an entry fee,” he says. And then he steps to the side, opening the door for us.
“Cashmere!” Valous yells out. “Get me some liquor. The clean kind.”
I carry Nida across the threshold, a wince escaping her. Her face—pale and grayed and dulled. She’s lost a lot of blood. I’m not sure how Valous is going to help, but he’s the only hope I’ve got.
Cashmere sprints toward us, another man with a similar build beside him, short, black hair, and one blind eye.
“We’ll take it from here,” Cashmere says, reaching out for Nida’s other hand. I hesitate. But what choice do I have? I let them take Nida to another room.
“Over her dead body indeed,” Valous says. My fingers hook into his crew neck, yanking him toward me—but cold steel flashes at my throat before I even get a word out.
“Baah-buh-bup!” he exclaims, raising his free hand in defense. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds. And I can tell you’re hungry.”
I stare at him, threatening. Then ease my grip. He’s enjoying this, but for Nida’s sake, I’ll let him.
He clears his throat, smoothing out the creases on his collar. “And watch the shirt next time.”
“Can you help her?” I ask, clenching my fists, carefully watching the corner she disappeared into—hoping she’ll emerge in good health in mere seconds. He draws in a breath.
“Already on it,” he responds, shoving his hands into his pockets.
I’m going to owe him. At a glance, I’m not really sure why he’s helping me so easily. But I don’t want to keep questioning his motives. My gaze returns to the corner where Nida disappeared to.
Two years of promising myself I’d never forgive him—not after his lies and deceit shattered a trust that could never be rebuilt. But for this—for taking us in without question—I might actually reconsider.
White fabric blurs my vision, disorienting me for a beat. I grab it before it hits the floor, feeling the rough texture under my fingers. My eyes stray to Valous, looking at me up and down.
