Page 98 of The Last Dragon
“I’ll talk to him,” I blurt, and all eyes turn to me. “Maybe instead of telling the villagers the whole truth, we tell them half,” I say, wiping the chocolate stain from the corner of my lip. “If wekeep them in the dark too long, they’ll sense something’s wrong. Then we’ll have two problems instead of one. Tell them half the truth—they’ll at least feel included. By the time the full truth comes out, they’ll have already shaped their own reality based on what they know. They’ll hear what they expect to hear.”
“And you think that’s going to work?” Nida asks.
“It has to. Sam and I have a meeting with the lieutenants and the general tomorrow after training. We’ll review the plan for the expedition and decide if I’ll lead them. It’s the perfect time to weigh in with our thoughts.”
Everyone nods in agreement. Then they scatter—returning to their posts—only Nida and I left.
“Have you heard anything?” Nida asks moments later.
I shake my head. “No mention of a female Redsnout.”
She clicks her tongue, silence stretching between us. She drags the sole of her boot across the brick ground, dust clinging to her leathers.
She scoffs. “Figures. Sometimes I end up doubting what I saw.”
“I don’t think you should.”
She steps forward, and in seconds her face is inches from mine, as if she’s covering up our conversation, a curl falling across her face.
“What do you think will happen now? ”
“I’m not sure,” I whisper. Instinctively, I reach for the curl and tuck it under her ear. Her hair still beautifully braided. She started braiding her hair more after I did—doing a way better job than me.
My hand lingers a moment longer than it should, a strange warmth creeping up my spine.What am I doing?I shake my head, forcing myself back to the conversation. Soldier first. Duty always. Clearing my throat, I push the moment aside and meet her eyes again.
Her cheeks flush, and she steps back, clearing her throat. “Well, as long as you don’t forget you’re not alone in this,” she stutters.
I nod. My mind is still tangled in the warmth of that small touch, the feel of her so close.
I swallow hard. “I’ll keep that in mind. My voice sounds firmer than I feel, but I force myself to stand tall, even if every instinct seems to pull me toward her.
CHAPTER 33
The next day, I’m back in my room, gathering the things I need for today’s training session. Nida is here, discussing what she needs help with. After training, I’ll have to meet up with the general and lieutenants.
“I’m good at making snares, and I’ve gotten good with my dagger,” she says, pacing my room and brushing against the bookcase with old stories I’ve read when I had time.
“And I gained more muscle,” she says, flexing and then chuckling.
That pulls a reluctant smile from me. I drop the bag on my shoulder. “What about crossbows?” I say. “Or a regular bow. Maybe practice your aim?”
She places one hand on her hip, then slowly traces her chin with the other, letting out a soft, thoughtful hum. “I’ve tried a bit with the bow. But it feels... different. Harder to get the timing right. I might prefer daggers.”
I nod, watching her carefully. “It’s all about patience and practice. No rush.”
She shrugs. “Maybe if you help me, I’ll get better faster. You’re the most skilled with crossbows anyway.”
I catch her gaze and nod, feeling a quiet determination settle between us. “Alright.” I approach her, looking her up and down. “Maybe more endurance training. You need to run far and fast as a Tracker.”
“I’m pretty fast.” She furrows a brow, as if my words insulted her.
I grin. “You want to test that theory?”
She lets out a chuckle, and for a moment, the room feels lighter—like maybe training won’t be so tough after all.
When we step out of my room, I spot Sam, shoulders stiff. He stands frozen in the hallway, as if the weight of something invisible is anchoring him to the floor. His green eyes lift halfway to mine, then drop again. He’s hiding something.
“Sam?” I call out softly, but he doesn’t answer. Just stares at the ground, jaw clenched, mouth twitching like he’s trying to form words and failing. He twirls a fabric belt from his robes, medic vials and herbs still attached. What’s got him like this? Someone who’s usually decisive when she speaks—this is so unlike him.
