“No, or my people would be here already.”
“Is it possible they think you’ve gone on a trip or something?”
“My people wouldneverthink I’d abandon them without a word,” he snapped.
She shrank back a step. “Sorry. It was just a question.”
Taevas thrust a knuckle into his left eye and rubbed hard. There was no softness, no understanding in his voice when he said, “I’mIsand.”
He said the word like it explained everything.Ee-zand.
The trouble was that she had no idea what it meant, let alone the weight it apparently carried. He’d called himself Lord of the Dragon Clans, too. Taevas seemed to be someone of importance — or that’s what he said, at any rate. She wanted to believe he was who he said he was, and that everything that had happened to him was the truth. She wanted to help him in what small way she could.
But even she, a woman who’d never left the bounds of Birchdale proper, knew that people lied.
Plenty of people thought they were important when they were really just like everybody else. Or worse. Rich recreationists often thought themselves above the people who lived in Birchdale. In her experience, there was very little more dangerous than a man who believed in his own importance too much.
Alashiya’s heart went out to Taevas for his clear suffering, but she also felt a deep, instinctive distrust of his attitude. BeingIsandmeant nothing to her, and she was fairly certain she didn’t want to dig any deeper than she had. His world wasn’t hers and they were all better off for it.
Decision to not pry any further firmly made, she turned and began walking again. He said something under his breath, but it was in a language she didn’t understand, so it wasn’t meant for her ears.
Taevas continued his clumsy, limping steps behind her. Hearing his obvious struggle, Alashiya slowed her pace. They walked for a long time before he said anything more.
Breathing heavily, he murmured, “I’m sorry I was short with you.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, eyeing the familiar break in the trees that indicated they were near home.
“It’s not. I’m exhausted, in pain, and unhappy — but you aren’t to blame for any of that. You are someone I respect, Shiya. That means I should treat you as such.”
“It’s already forgotten.”
And it was, for the most part. Alashiya had shifted her focus to figuring out what the next several hours would look like, how she could help Taevas without getting burned in the process, and, most importantly, when she’d be able to get back to work.
Her lips pursed at the thought of what she had to do next. It was all well and good when he was a dragon trapped in her kitchen, but now he was a man. He’d need a proper place to sleep. There were many rooms on offer, but none of them had been lived in for nearly twenty years, and all of the usable bedding had been pilfered. Some of the rooms weren’t suitable for habitation at all, even for a night, after so much neglect.
She wove through the gap between two young birch trees and stepped out into the grassy field just beyond her garden. Her home sat on the small hill above them, its hulking form slouched and dark against the star-strewn sky.
Working out how she was going to safely cohabitate with her guest for the night took up so much of her focus that she barely noticed Taevas had stopped halfway up the hill. Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder to find him standing stock-still. He’d dug his fingers into the long hair by his ears and appeared to be staring at her home with abject astonishment.
Raising her eyebrows, she asked, “What?”
“This is where you live?” She wasn’t sure what to make of how his baritone went up an octave when he asked his question.
Looking back at the house, then at him, she answered, “Yes? You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
“I don’t remember looking that closely when I…” He made a high, crooning noise she’d become familiar with during her time with the dragon. “But… but why is it— Shiya, why does it look like the ground is trying toswallowit?”
She supposed it did look a bit like that. There wasn’t much of the walls left visible these days. Some of that was intentional. Her grove had worked hard with shovels and wheelbarrows for over a week, building up the earthen barrier along the walls. Nymphs preferred to be as close to the earth as possible when they slept, and modern housing didn’t support that. A compromise was made by raising the earth around the house, with space made only for doorways. The converted barn would’ve gone the same way, but the grove hadn’t survived long enough to do it.
Over time, as was always the hope, nature moved in step with their work. Grasses, vines, ferns, and even some small saplings took root in the berms, shielding the home even further. Then moss began to dominate the home itself. It crawled over the roof and across window panes. She gently scraped it away once every few years, since she liked natural light when she worked, but never completely.
The overall effect was that of a home built into, and indeed swallowed by, Burden’s Earth.
For the first time she considered how strange it must be to a dragon, who lived in towers and on mountaintops. She wondered ifhishome would feel as alien to her as hers did to him. Even trying to picture it was impossible. It was as fantastical to her as the idea of standing on a cloud.
Not knowing how else to answer him, she said, “It’s how we like it.”
Taevas made a curious noise in the back of his throat and tugged at his hair. “I…” Whatever he was about to say, he swallowed it with considerable effort. After a visible struggle, he muttered, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
