“Leida,” he said as softly as dragon speech allowed, and she jerked upright, blinking at him with owl-eyed confusion. Strands of dark hair escaped from her braid, fluttering around her in the swift current caused by his rapidly beating wings.
He didn’t have to say anything else. They’d flown on long trips together before, and Leida was familiar with the precautions he took not to alert others of a dragon in the near vicinity. She slipped her feet out of the harness’s boot sleeves, sliding down Magnus’s stretched leg until she hung from one curving, silver claw. She released her hands, dropping to the ground with a soft grunt. The flap of his wings threatened to knock her over as she worked swiftly to unbuckle the harness and packs.
Once free of his burdens, Magnus emitted the same high whistle, changing once more into a man, clothed and shod as any human. He landed on his feet, agile as a cat, and grabbed the packs and harness with one smooth motion. No one would be the wiser that a dragon had landed here. Even the most experienced tracker would note only a set of footprints, that of a man and a woman.
He held out a hand, motioning to her. “Come, we’ll camp in the shelter of the trees and rest until midday. You can bathe if you wish, and I’ll bring a fresh kill.” Leida might have been happy enough with the bread and cheese packed by Gersel’s servants for their journey, but Magnus, even in human form, craved meat. His sharp dragon vision had noted fluttering movement in the stand of willows as he’d circled above them. Owls on the hunt meant there was game close by.
The graceful willows offered a haven of privacy beneath their drape of green leaves and slender, arching branches. Magnus placed a possessive hand against the small of Leida’s back, guiding her to one of the largest trees as she stumbled sleepily alongside him. By the time he’d made a bed of their blankets and situated their packs against the tree’s trunk, she was asleep once more, clutching one of the blankets under her chin.
Magnus gazed at her for long moments, noting the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin. He suspected the past week had drained her to the point of exhaustion. Her capture, her reunion with him, their flight to her village, the intense interlude by the stream bed, and all the emotional upheaval that came with it had finally worn her down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, almost as weary as she, but resolved to settle things between them.
For now, though, he would take advantage of the remaining darkness and find some decent food. He cast a protective ward on their camp site, one that gave a passerby a strong sense of avoidance. Armed with the small crossbow he’d unpacked, he trekked through the stand of trees, his senses far more acute than a true human’s. It didn’t take long for him to capture and kill two large hares. By the time he returned with the brace of rabbits, dressed and ready for roasting, Leida had awakened again. She sat up when she heard him approach.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of the hares, and she moved quickly to take them from him so he could start a small fire. “This is a fine catch,” she said. “Thank you. I’ve had only bread and a bit of fish for the past few days. This is a welcome change.”
Magnus sat down on the blankets she’d vacated, content to watch her prepare their meal. He reached for his pack, taking out the wine flask and broken pipe. As with her laces, he held the pieces of the pipe stem together, singing a wordless chant to meld the broken bits, making it whole once more.
“Will you sing for me later? When the meal is finished?” she asked.
He glanced at her over his shoulder as he pulled the pouch of tobacco from the pack. “Do you still enjoy dragon song, Leida?”
Her smile was both wistful and eager. “Yes, I do. I have always loved your singing. It is the music of the stars.”
Had she told him he was the most beautiful dragon in the world, such words would have paled against these. Dragons held song and those with the talent to produce it in high regard. His chest swelled with pride, and he gave her an indulgent smile as he packed the pipe bowl. “It will be my pleasure. I’m glad to hear you still have an affection for it.”
Her smile faded a little. “It’s only been four years, Magnus. It would take lifetimes for me to forget your voice.”
Magnus lit the pipe, drew deeply on it, and released a lazy swirl of
smoke from his mouth and nose before answering. “Would it? Did you remember my songs as you labored to bring your daughter into the world?” He could hear the sneer creeping into his words, but was helpless to stop it, the bitterness once more awake and alive in him.
Leida’s face paled, but she refused to glance away. “I did,” she said softly. “Their memory brought me comfort and eased the pain.”
He flushed, uncomfortable with a small, niggling guilt for his spite. “I am sorry you suffered.”
She sighed, the smile once more in place. “’Tis every woman’s burden and her joy.” Firelight reflected in her eyes as she searched his face, for what he couldn’t tell. “But thank you for your words.”
He nodded once, pleased to make her smile again. A comfortable silence fell between them as he continued to smoke, and she cooked their meal. They ate in silence as well, only making small talk when they cleaned up the remnants of supper and walked together to the lake to rinse their hands.
When they returned, Leida sat again on the blankets and Magnus stirred the coals of the dying fire. The sky had lightened to a pewter gray, the stars fading as the moon descended and dawn approached. “What song would you like to hear?” he asked her.
She bent her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs and tilting her head. “It doesn’t matter. I like all the songs.”
The embers continued to fade as Magnus took a breath and began to sing, a rich, low melody spun of dragon magic and ancient memories. He watched Leida’s face as he sang, watched its subtle changes as she fell beneath his voice’s bewitching allure. Her expression sent the blood racing through his veins, as it was one of rapture, as of a woman who had just found her greatest pleasure in her lover’s arms. He knew it was much like his own expression when he’d first heard her sing so many years earlier.
His song came to an end, falling away to a breathless quiet. Leida sat as if hypnotized, finally blinking and shaking her head to shrug off the effects of his voice. Her gray eyes darkened, a yearning drifting through their depths as she met his gaze.
“It’s as I remembered. A gift of the gods. You have a wondrous voice, Magnus.”
Magnus inclined his head in acknowledgment of her praise. He watched her as she rested her cheek on her knees, her own voice growing drowsy. “I know Vala would love to hear you sing.”
He went rigid at hearing the child’s name. The knowledge of her existence twisted his insides. He could push it to the back of his mind, save for those times, like now, when Leida insisted on reminding him of her. He brooded, remembering their earlier conversation, including the odd remark regarding her voice. He straightened, gazing at Leida with narrowed eyes, a realization growing within him.
“Leida,” he said. She lifted her head, eyebrows raised in question. “It’s your turn. Sing for me.”
Her panic-stricken expression confirmed his suspicions. His favorite, once blessed with the same quality of voice as the fair Sivatte, could no longer sing.
Chapter Five
