31
TAMSYN
WE FLEW ALL NIGHT, STOPPING FINALLY AT DAWN, FAINTstreaks of pink and orange streaking across a deep purple sky, heralding the new day.
We landed on a heavily wooded plateau between a mountain and a hill … one of the first of several foothills leading down into the Borg.
We were almost home, with more mountains at our backs now than before us. Before us were the uplands, gently rising foothills covered with far more green than snow. A gentler land, with far less teeth. And beyond these foothills, of course, stretched the Borg.
We could not see it yet, but we knew it to be there—that sprawling fortress of timber and a moat of dark waters that circled the expansive stronghold of the north. A slumbering beast amid fog. Except, no. That fog was gone. I’d seen evidence of that myself when we went on rekon.
I wondered how long it would take for the fog to return to the north now that Fell was back.
I lifted my face with an exhale and released myself, let go of my dragon hide, unraveling, unwinding and coming apart and back together again as a human.
Fell was there, beside me, his pale silvery dragon scales vanishing in a brilliant flash as he returned to himself—his big warrior body a thing of beauty. I admired him for a moment, the incredible height and breadth of him, his tan skin kissed by some invisible sun, the inked designs trailing down over flexing sinew and corded muscle.
I lit a fire, and we both dressed by the warm glow of it, sinking down before the writhing flames.
I held my hands out as though I needed the warmth … as though fire did not always crackle within me, magic residing within me. And yet this did comfort me, the simple act of it, the very normal thing of sitting before a fire with your lover close to your side.
We ate, watching as the sun broke over the horizon, filtering through the trees, gilding the snow-draped branches.
Excitement hummed in me now that we were this close. “What do you think they will say when we walk through the gates?”
What will we say?
A smile played about his lips. “Welcome home?”
Laughter bubbled in me. I loved thisbeingtogether. Had he always been so wonderful? So funny? Or had I just been too tormented with my forced marriage and the subsequent discovery of my dragon self? Had I been unable to take notice and appreciate him? Unable to see anything beyond the infamous Lord Beast that held the kingdom together against penury and starvation, against invaders from the north and raiders and danger from … well,everywhere. He had always been bigger,betterthan any other man. More myth than reality, and now that was fitting, all things considered.
“You think so?”
He chewed, considering. “I imagine after all this time they assume me dead.” We both fell silent as we contemplated that. “Although they might wonder … after discovering you alive.”
The former royal whipping girl turned Lady of the Borderlands was only of significance to Stig. The people of the Borderlands did not know enough about me to care whether I lived or died. The loss of their beloved high lord, however? That would have rocked their world to its foundation, shaken the kingdom in its entirety.
Perhaps that was why that warring party from Veturland had dared to encroach amid winter. No doubt they had spies all about. If they knew Fell was gone … perhaps they thought the risk low enough to attack without the Lord Beast in command.
Fell had been the one holding Penterra together, the onekeeping the north safe. And keeping the north safe was keeping us all safe. His return would change everything.
That sank in, settling over me. Hopefully it would be an easy enough matter for Fell to challenge Stig, dispatch him, and slide back into his old role.
“My warriors are loyal,” he said, offering this up as though he could read my mind … Or perhaps he needed to hear his own reassurances that his transition back into power would not meet with too much resistance.
I nodded. “Of course.”
Insects trilled around us, and I realized it had been some time since I heard them. Insects did not live in the Crags … Only creatures of magic thrived in these mountains. And above all, I was that.
We both were.
I wondered if perhaps that was something I should consider.
As much as I had decided to return to the Borg, how would we, creatures of magic, fit into a world that did not want us? It would take some adjustment, for certain.
I slid my gaze to Fell. He thought the Borg was the place for us. I hoped it was. It certainly seemed a haven compared to any other place in Penterra. It was not the City or the palace where I grew up, where intolerance ran deep.
The Borg had taken Fell in as a child … an orphan of unknown origins. I was the same—an orphan, too—except the royal family had made me a whipping girl while the Borg had readily accepted him as the heir apparent and named him Lord of the Borderlands. Very different places indeed.
