No luck there.
She swore like the goatherd her father had been as she stared at the strips of fabric with chagrin. They were unsuitable for anything save to be used as bandages. She would have given much for just one softly worked goat skin.
Maybe Draknart could catch a few more rabbits. Their pelts would have to do. No time to cure them, but any cover was better than nothing.
In the meanwhile, she picked up the widest strip of fabric, a leg of her brother’s britches, then tied it around her waist. The second widest strip she tied around her breasts. The she picked up a few more and fashioned herself a sword belt. By the time she thrust her sword into the belt, careful not to cut herself, she felt better.
She turned to seek out Draknart and found him standing outlined in the mouth of the cave.
Oh. Her eyes widened as she realized something. Her mind had been so crowded with memories of the previous night, she’d been too dazed to notice that… but now… Oh! Her blood rushed in her veins as she lurched forward. “Draknart!”
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his tone gruff. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“Draknart, you’re—”
“I did not mean what happened, not the way it happened.”
“Draknart—”
“Can we start anew?”
“Draknart!” she shouted, hurrying to him.
His gaze dropped to her right hand. The thought that he was checking for her sword flitted through her mind, but she discarded it as she reached him. “You’re a man!”
He froze.
He looked at his feet. Then he put one hand on his naked chest, the other on his stomach. An endless moment passed before he said, his gaze suddenly troubled, “Aye.”
“Why?”
He shook his head, bewildered. He stepped back, then rolled his shoulders, as if hoping to roll the human skin off. His lips tightened. Odd sounds came from his chest, as if he was trying to hold back a pained roar.
He shook his head again, harder, then blinked at her, gritting his teeth. “We need food. I’ll hunt.”
Then he was hurrying away, striding into the woods, and disappearing before she could call him back.
Einin stared after him, her blood chilling.
If the goddess turned him into a man all the way… He would hate that. He would hate it more than anything in the world.
Would he blame Einin for her part in the mess that meeting the god and the goddess had been? Her breath caught. Maybe he wouldn’t take her back to his cave. Maybe she’d misinterpreted his embrace in the water earlier. He might have been just glad that she had survived the night, that the goddess wouldn’t come back to punish him for yet another mortal’s death.
He had swum away from her.
Confused, she stared at the spot where he’d disappeared into the woods. And then the stark truth finally dawned on her. Draknart no longer needed her.
At first, he’d only wanted her for a quick swiving, then a quick meal. Then he’d decided to bring her to Belinus as a gift. But Belinus had not taken her. The god had not turned Draknart back into full dragon. And Draknart had swived her, a number of times, during the night. He had what he’d wanted there. The memory flushed her cheeks with heat.
He was finished with her now. He no longer needed her for anything.
Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She paused to examine the sensation.
Why did she care? Draknart had brought her to the fairy circle to give her to Belinus.
But he didn’t.
He had risked the wrath of the gods for her. And she wasn’t blameless either. She had tried, more than once, to kill him.
