He stares back at me.
I poke myself experimentally, but yep, this appears to be real life. Somehow.
Where asagejustaskedif he couldmove inwithme.
This is fine! Definitely fine.
It takes a second for the words to penetrate through my spiraling thoughts, and then some more seconds as I decide that not only did they for real just happen but also that I will have to actually respond and not just keep gaping at him like a simpleton.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, I look at him again.
There is a man—and, not to put too fine a point on it, an attractive man whowantsto live withme, still very much not over that part—sitting in my chair who is on a mountain, alone, pale like he’s had a tremendous shock, who looks like he is about to keel over off of my chair and is sitting upright solely through force of will.
Nothing in my life has prepared me to process this situation.
I drop to my butt on the floor in front of him. “I think we should start over,” I say. “My name is Tasa. What’s yours?”
A beat, and then he slides onto the floor in front of me and meets my eyes. “Kovan.”
“Just Kovan?” I query. “Not Sage Kovan?”
“‘Sage’ is not my name,” he says. “It is a title. And on this mountain, at this time, it is a useless one. Just Kovan.”
Oookay. “Just Kovan then. It’s thoughtful of you to bring yourself down to my level, but you can keep sitting in the chair. I don’t mind.”
“I do mind, Cottagebuilder Tasa,” Kovan rumbles. “There is nothing lowering about meeting you on more even ground.”
Well, that’s sweet. Also, was that a hint of humor? “And there is nothing useless about being a sage here,” I say. “No one else besides me has managed to get this close to the temple besides me and—”Dammit.
“And the dragon,” the sage says dryly. “He’s the one who brought me here. That must be why he thought I’d be able to get into the temple.”
Oh thank goodness. “You know Zan? Is he okay?”
A pause. “Yes. He took some damage helping me escape, but he appeared to believe it wasn’t serious. He will be hibernating now, however.”
“Helping youescape? Wait—didyou get into the temple?”
The sage’s jaw clenches. “I did not.”
“Damn,” I mutter. And then bite my tongue. “Sorry!”
Kovan waves this off. “What did it look like when you got here?”
“Oh, gods, it was awful. There were dead bodies just... everywhere. Like they’d just dropped where they stood and ceased to breathe. And some, um. Viscera? I guess from the pressure of the shockwave? And I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to move a dead body, but even without, uh, fluids, they areheavy, and handlingthem—” I shudder. “I was trying, but it would have been so much worse if Zan hadn’t shown up.”
“To help?” The sage is skeptical.
“I mean, I don’t think that was his original intention, but hedidhelp.”
“Do you know what his original intention was?”
I narrow my eyes. We started over, but somehow I’ve let him interrogate me again. “Does it matter?”
The sage lets out a breath. “No. I suppose not. I am not sure if I am relieved to know that a dragon isn’t responsible for killing them.”
Ah.
Slower than I probably should be, but in my defense it’s hard to overstate how incredibly unlikely all of this is, I’m beginning to put some pieces together here, and they’re adding up to a crisis of faith.
