Can we not start anew? he’d asked earlier. But how did he mean it? Did he mean they should part ways and pretend they had never met?
There went Einin’s heart twisting again.
She was in love with Draknart, had fallen for him like an empty-headed maiden. But Draknart didn’t love her back.
I thought you’d left, he’d said when he found her in the lake. Had he hoped that she’d leave?
Yet after he’d said that, he had drawn her into his arms. Maybe he had meant it as good-bye. His body had been aroused, but that seemed to be a permanent condition for him, and he’d made no move to take her. He’d gone for a swim instead. And now he’d left her again.
Last night… What happened in the cave had been completely overwhelming for Einin yet made her feel alive and awakened. Draknart, however, probably found her woefully inexperienced and inadequate.
But he said I was his! her brain screamed.
He meant for the night, doubt whispered.
Try as she might, Einin could not puzzle out what to do next. She could not stay at the fairy circle. She was certain she would not survive another encounter with the gods. Lingering at the entrance of their realm would be beyond foolish.
She could not return to her village. She would not survive that either. The image of the men, led by the priest, entering her hut with torches at dawn, was burned on her brain.
She thought of the young knight Draknart had flicked into the water. There was a village on the other side if the lake. She could seek shelter there. But how would she explain appearing out of nowhere, alone and practically naked?
The knight had seen her with a dragon. If she appeared, unharmed… What if they too branded her as a witch?
Draknart strode from the woods with three dead rabbits dangling by their feet from his hand. He also brought an armful of dry branches. He tossed the game on the ground, then began the makings of a fire. She helped by drawing her sword and skinning and gutting the rabbits, careful with the pelt.
Once the fire was roaring, while they waited for the high flames to die down a little so the meat wouldn’t be scorched but evenly cooked, she scraped the inside of the pelts with her sword, then rubbed them clean with sand.
Draknart put the carcasses on a spit, the two of them working in silence.
From time to time, she caught him looking at her meager coverings. She couldn’t see how he could find fault with them, since he had even less—nothing, in fact. She avoided looking at him as much as possible, especially that part of him. Even thinking about it made the ache between her legs reawaken. She didn’t understand how it was possible that the ache could feel pleasant.
After they ate, they drank from the lake. Einin rinsed the skins, then combined them with what clothes she had left to provide a little better covering for herself.
“We’d best head back.” Draknart held her gaze. “If you wish to come with me.”
“To your cave?”
He stared. “To start. And after that…” His voice trailed off. “We’ll have to walk. I’m not certain how long the journey will take.”
The lost look on his face, so unlike him, twisted her heart. She stood. “We’d better leave before the gods return.”
She could swear his entire body went slack with relief, but he said nothing.
They didn’t talk as they found an animal trail going in the right direction and followed it. Cutting through the forest was slow going. The trail was uneven. Protruding roots tripped her. Branches stood in her way. Their progress was painfully slow compared to the ease of flying to the fairy circle. She missed sailing through the air.
How was that possible? She’d only flown a few times. She wondered if she would ever fly again and knew Draknart must be wondering the same, and how terrible that wondering must be for him.
Night had fallen by the time they reached Castle Blackstone.
Draknart stomped forward. “We’ll spend the night in the ruins.”
Einin was grateful that he would think of her and make sure she was all right. He had the strength of a dragon still; he wouldn’t tire, but she did. He could see in the dark, but she could not. She preferred to continue their journey in daylight when she wouldn’t have to stumble over every root and rock.
They cleared the trees, and the familiar castle towered before them, lit by silver moonlight. Draknart couldn’t fly them to the top of the last remaining tower like last time, but the great wooden gate hung open and allowed entry.
Einin followed Draknart to the tower’s base. The door lay on the ground to the side. In the middle of the darkly yawning opening, a small light drew her eyes. A firefly she thought as they drew closer. But then the light grew. And grew.
She drew her sword. Draknart stepped in front of her. Then neither of them moved, although, Einin did peek around Draknart.
