Earlier in the day, Tage carried in the carcass as though it was no more substantial than a rabbit and not several hundred pounds. He deposited it in the kitchen without acknowledging me. I told myself this was a good thing, that I don’t need looks or words from him, and set to work butchering the meat alongside Viggo.
Now, hours later, I’m scooping the marrow from the bones when the din reaches my ears. Viggo and I exchange quick glances,hurriedly wash our hands, and remove our stained leather aprons before leaving the kitchen.
Danhy and Cyphus carry a howling, red-faced Arvos between them.
Arvos’s screams are like the bellows of a gutted animal, bouncing off the cavernous walls. My heart pounds in my too-tight chest at the horrible sound...at the glimpse of his tormented face.
Viggo directs them to put Arvos down on the trestle table.
I inch closer, attempting to peer between the press of bodies.
Tage materializes, naked from the waist up, indifferent to the cold. Droplets of water on his torso indicate that the commotion interrupted him at his bath. Instantly I feel a stab of envy and resentment. I clean myself from a basin of fresh water in the kitchen at the end of each day. It’s sufficient, but hardly the thorough washing I’m accustomed to after a day’s exertion.
His brow creases in worry. “What happened?”
“We were hunting musk oxen.” Cyphus noticeably hesitates. “In the south, in the bluffs...when we stumbled on a sounder of battle boars.”
“Why the bluffs?” Viggo demands. “You know battle boars forage there.”
Danhy’s breath saws hard from her trembling lips. “It shouldn’t have happened.” She shakes her head remorsefully, as though the mistake is hers. Purple blood,dragon blood, Arvos’s blood, streaks her cheek. “We were so concerned with staying south, away from the soldiers we spotted in the north.” She sucks in a shuddering breath. “Arvos was gored before we even had time to react and dispatch them.”
I wince, imagining the horrible scene. It’s barely evening yet. They would not have been in their dragon forms, so clearly ill-equipped to defend against battle boars.
“I had to turn,” Cyphus admits with a defiant thrust of his square, brutish jaw. “But I never took to air.”
Battle boars easily weigh a thousand pounds each. I’ve neverheard of a human who survived an encounter with one. They’d once been instrumental in battle, thereby earning them the moniker. With their great sizeandtusks that drip venomandvicious temperamentsandan appetite for dragon meat, humans had harnessed them, feeding them the remains of dragons and forever instilling a hunger in them for the magical creatures. After the Threshing they’d been released into the wild, too difficult to control and no longer needed. Dragons were thought to be extinct, after all.
“It had to be done, Alpha. I had to turn,” Cyphus goes on to insist, clearly defensive about breaking a rule among the pride. “There were over a dozen boars. Several bulls. They would have torn us apart.”
Tage waves a hand in dismissal.
Cyphus’s expression relaxes somewhat, understanding that he won’t be reprimanded.
Not for this, at any rate.
“You shouldn’t have been in the bluffs,” Viggo insists as he inspects Arvos. “Not out of dragon skin.”
Tage fixes his attention on Arvos writhing in pain on the table. “How bad is it, Viggo?”
“Would that we had bumped into soldiers,” Cyphus grumbles, still not letting the matter drop. “We could have handledthem.” He nods at Arvos, clearly indicating that he could have shaded them.
“Could we? Arvos couldn’t shadeher.” Danhy juts an accusing thumb my way, and full understanding hits me. It’s because of me they went south to the bluffs. It’smyfault they doubt their magic and made such an effort to avoid the humans in the north.
Because of me.
I swallow and give the barest, imperceptible shake of my head, denying responsibility. I’m their captive. What happened to Arvos is not my doing. It’s not my fault their magic doesn’t work on me. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t work on others. I shouldn’t feel guilty. I shouldn’t.
But I do.
With Arvos’s anguished screams in my ears, I do.
I finally get a good look at Arvos spread out on the table and gag. Bile surges to my throat, climbing into my mouth. I cover my lips with my shaking hand as I assess the damage.
Arvos’s thick thigh is split wide open, revealing a pulpy mess of pink masticated tissue. I suck in a deep breath and taste blood on the air.
Arvos shifts slightly and the movement sends purple blood squirting, striking Viggo in the face.
I gasp.
