Ragnar narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Stalling won’t do you any good, not unless you have an accomplice moving the kegs while you distract me. But Nilsa wouldn’t…or would she? You two seem to be as thick as thieves. Pun intended.”
I folded my arms. “From where I’m standing, you’re the one who’s stalling. Something in your wagon you don’t want me to see?”
“Fine.” He waved me down the path. “Go ahead and look all you’d like. You’ll only confirm what you already know. There’s nothing in there. Because you took it all.”
“We’ll see about that,” I replied crisply.
When we reached his wagon, I threw open the burlap flaps with gusto. The scent of rugged spice and bitter ale rushed toward me, from the dark depths of…a very empty wagon. The tankards were untouched on their shelves, and his folded bedroll was propped against the far wall, but every one of the kegs was gone. Nothing was left but the shadows of where they’d stood, along with a good helping of dust.
“Huh.” I released the burlap and stepped back. “So you weren’t lying.”
“Your turn,” said Ragnar. “To the woods we go.”
Ragnar strode off, and I had no choice but to follow. Perhaps I would get the chance to warn my dragon to stay back if Ragnar strayed too far from the festival grounds. I could whistle or hoot like an owl or—who was I kidding? The second Reykur caught scent of me, he’d thunder down from above with that hopeful look in his eye. He’d think I’d brought him more food.
We curved past the willow, then took the route to St. Olaf Row before dipping into the woods behind my Traveling Tavern. I shot my wagon a mournful glance. Mud still caked her sides, and there was an eerie, cold look about her, like she’d been abandoned for decades. Ragnar and his stupid game had become a huge distraction. When we were done in the woods, I’d find a pail of water, some soap, and I’d get to scrubbing.
Lilia’s Traveling Tavern would be open for business by nightfall.
The canopy overhead rustled as we dove deeper into the ancient oaks and evergreens. A twig snapped, and I jumped. Ragnar cut his gaze toward me with a rueful smile.
“You’re surprisingly on edge for someone who insists she’s not a thief,” he said as he ducked beneath a low-hanging branch.
“There could be dangerous creatures in these woods,” I tried. “Why else do you think they hold the festival in the meadow? Can’t have anyone wandering around in here after dark.”
“Is that what you were doing in here earlier, then? Searching for one of these dangerous creatures?” He chuckled.
I snapped my mouth shut. Little did he know just how close he’d come to the truth. And, much to my dismay, I spotted my own tracks in the dirt and leaves. We were heading straight toward where I’d found Reykur that very morning. It had only been a couple hours since I’d left him here. He likely hadn’t wandered far.
My heart pounded. When Reykur had started following me around all those years ago, I’d sworn to the goddess Freya that I’d do anything to keep him safe. Safe from those who might fear him, or those who might hunt him down. Ragnar had once been a warrior. Would his instincts kick in when he laid eyes on a dragon?
“Ragnar.” I stopped, catching his arm. His biceps flexed against my fingers, tensing.
Slowly, he turned toward me. There was a suspicious glint in his eye, but he didn’t pull away or keep moving through the woods. He waited to hear what I had to say.
“I need to tell you something, and I’m begging you to stay calm,” I started.
“Let me guess.” He gently shifted out of my grasp and folded his arms. “These tracks are yours, and we’re about to find something you don’t want me to see.”
“Well,yes, but it’s not what you think.”
“So, you’re telling me we won’t find my kegs at the end of these tracks.” He pointed at my footprints.
“It’s a dragon, Ragnar. I have a dragon,” I said, forcing out the words.
He stared at me in silence, and I stared right back. But my pulse was frantic, and my mouth was dry. The intensity of his skeptical gaze felt like the weight of an anvil, and if he didn’t say something soon, I might burst from the seams. A part of me was desperate to take back my words, to drag him away from these woods so that no one could discover Reykur’s existence.
But I also knew Reykur didn’t want to go on like this. He didn’t want to be a secret any longer. And we had to start somewhere. Why not with a warrior who had fought against the very man who’d tried to extinguish his kind? If anything, Ragnar would understand just how special Reykur was. I had to hope that meant he’d never bring him harm.
Ragnar’s shock slowly morphed into anger. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“What? No, I—”
“All the dragons aredead,” he said with far more grief in his voice than I’d expected. “It was a tragedy, and yet you’re trying to use them to scare me out of these woods.” He shook his head, taking a step away from me. “I was starting to doubt you stole the kegs, Lilia. But all you’ve done now is convince me you have. And I’ll find them, at the end of these tracks.”
The canopy rustled again. I looked up just as the trees parted, their trunks straining against the strength of the dragon bearing down on us. Reykur’s powerful wings beat the air, the scent of sulphur gusting into my face. Ragnar’s jaw dropped. He stumbled back and shielded his eyes, dumbfounded.
Reykur landed before us. His talons pierced the ground, wiping away my tracks. Heart thundering, I glanced from his soft bulbous eyes to Ragnar’s shocked face and back again. And then I stepped between them, pressing my back against my dragon’s hot snout.
