Page 61 of Taloned Heart

“He’s the last remaining royal of his bloodline, yes.”

“Interesting.” Algor’s eyebrows moved high on his forehead and his short beard twitched. “At how that girl was going on about him, I thought he’d be more handsome.”

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh, he told himself repeatedly until he could school his expression into one of indifference. “They are very close.”

“I understand that, but I’ll never understand a woman who puts a man on a pedestal and calls him perfection.” Algor shrugged. “Ah well, nothing to be done about the lusts of young women, I suppose. I’m certain there were plenty who did the same to me in my younger days. I’ve prepared a room for him, and healing.”

Lore stepped in, her footsteps quiet as she placed her hand on Algor’s shoulder. “I can’t ask you for more time in this place. We have already brought enough danger to your doorstep. All I ask is for one evening to piece him together enough to safely travel.”

“Nonsense. The dwarves have lived here for ages. I will not have you running to the elves at the first sign of trouble.” But even Abraxas could see the shadows in the dwarf’s eyes.

He was worried about the same thing. Algor might be flippant about his emotions or even the dangers that they were all facing. But he knew the dangers well, perhaps even better than Lore or Abraxas.

“We leave,” Abraxas said. His voice was guttural and offering no argument. “We will not bring about destruction to this esteemed home. The boy will come with us, and we are not running, dwarf. I will have you know that without question. We are going to another safe harbor until we can create a plan that will bring about the end of these times. You will be part of that plan.”

Lore met his gaze, and he saw the moment she understood what he was doing. They had to play to this man’s honor. They needed the dwarf to understand that even though they were leaving, that did not mean they thought the dwarves were unworthy.

With a slight, grateful quirk of her lips, Lore turned her attention back to Algor. “There is a war coming, dwarf. A war that will end all wars. I would have the dwarves fight at our side, if you were so willing.”

Algor straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “When the Fallen Star calls for us, the dwarves will be ready, my lady.”

“And we will all be lucky for it.” Lore squeezed his shoulder and then turned her attention to the young man he held against his chest. “Shall we? I want to get started on whatever is happening inside him. There is bleeding I could not pinpoint.”

And that was that. He followed her into the depths of the dwarven kingdom and rushed through the tunnels. They needed to get into the room that Algor had provided, and quickly. Though he could still feel a steady breath in the boy’s chest, it rattled with fluid. Dangerous fluid. Fluid that could sneak up on them and make all of this infinitely more difficult if they didn’t hurry.

Taking a deep breath, Abraxas filled his lungs with the scents that escaped from Zephyr’s slightly open lips. Pus wasn’t all that helpful. Blood, also not surprising. But there was an acidic scent that came with it that Abraxas thought he was familiar with.

It was a poison that the King had used before. Zander enjoyed playing with things he shouldn’t, and sometimes that was giving his servants poison just to see what it would do.

Abraxas couldn’t remember the name of it, though. There had been so many poisons and so many opportunities for him to smell all the scents of them that erupted from the servants’ mouths.

“Lore,” he said as they reached the room. “It’s poison.”

“Is it?” She gestured for him to set Zephyr on the cot in the center of the room, then folded herself around his head, making sure that her legs were on either side of him.

Abraxas saw the image in front of him and it was overlaid with another in his memory. A moment when Tanis had done the same thing to Lore, keeping Lore alive when she was lost in her own mind. The power inside her had swelled so much that he hadn’t been able to... to...

“Abraxas?” Her voice sliced through the terrible memory. “Are you still here with me?”

He pulled himself from that terrible memory, from all those moments that had nearly taken her from him, and forced himself to see reality. Right here. Right in front of him. There were people who needed his help. People he loved.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “I’m here.”

“What makes you think they poisoned him?”

He touched his nose. “I can smell it on his breath. There’s something coming out of his lungs. I can’t place what it is, though. Zander used to use it on the servants.”

“What did it do to them?”

He searched his mind, trying to remember every detail so that he could help. “It made them sleep for a while. A long while. And when they woke, they were quite scattered. As though the world didn’t feel very real to them anymore.”

Lore nodded. “It’s a start. If you can remember the name, then maybe I can send Algor to get us help. Surely, there are some healers here that are familiar with poison. In the meantime, I’ll work on getting him to be awake. Lungs are a good start.”

He’d done all he could. Every fiber of his body itched to do more, though. Abraxas was starkly reminded of the feeling he’d had when Lore was laid out before him, sick and with no way for him to help her. He had wanted to piece her back together and all he’d managed was to lie at her side and hope that his warmth would make her a little more comfortable.

He hated not being able to do anything. A crimson dragon was meant to tear and rip and protect. Not to stand and wait, helpless, while those he was supposed to protect remained injured and harmed.

A low growl burned in his throat, but then he turned toward the door. And there, standing in the opening with her hands over her mouth, was a person he could protect.

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