The Dragon Prince's Promise (Dragongrove Book 5) Read online

  “It’s him?” she asked. “It’s Vodan?”

  He said nothing, but the set of his jaw and the tension in his face when she said the name answered her question. “We have to—you have to go,” he began, releasing her from his embrace but taking both of her hands in his. “I care for you. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but...I care for you more than I thought I could. I’m sorry that you were brought here and I’m sorry that I treated you so terribly. I—it was out of concern for you. I wish I could explain myself more thoroughly. You deserve that, and you deserve so much more than this. Return to your life, with your queen who needs you and your friends who I’m sure are worried for you. I will miss you, though. I’ll miss you every second.”

  He began to move toward the mouth of the cave, and tugged Elsie’s hand to follow. “Please tell me,” she said, her eyes pleading with him. “Please tell me why I’m here.” She thought that she might already know, and if it was true—she wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave. “Please,” she said one last time.

  He just shook his head, so she followed behind him, finally spilling the tears that had been threatening to. If he wasn’t going to fight—not even a little—then she wouldn’t, either. Perhaps she was mistaken, perhaps there was nothing there at all.

  She followed him along the last curve before she knew she would see daylight, but he stopped abruptly and she could see his whole form tense. He squeezed her hand quickly, so briefly, and then dropped it.

  She jumped when she saw him—Vodan, leaning against the cave wall, ten feet from where they’d just stood together. He must have heard everything.

  Tate’s voice was tight as he spoke. “She’s ready,” he said, ignoring the mage’s pointed look between the two of them. “Prepare the spell and we’ll send them home.”

  “The other one’s already asleep,” the man said. His voice made Elsie want to shudder. He turned his attention to her, then, and Tate angled himself slightly so that she was as blocked as possible. She wondered vaguely if he even knew that he’d done it. “That was an interesting conversation you had, back there.”

  “It’s not your business and it doesn’t matter,” Tate growled, and the sound was so intimidating, so positively powerful that Elsie found herself leaning away from him. She wondered how Vodan had stood his ground, how he hadn’t even blinked.

  “I think it does matter,” he said, speaking to Tate but not taking his gaze from Elsie. “I think it matters more than you’ll even admit to her.”

  “Don’t do this,” Tate said. “Please. Please, just send her home. Everything will be as it was. It will be...stable.”

  Elsie watched with wide eyes, not understanding why it had mattered, not understanding why Tate was arguing so desperately for her to leave when he’d spent days telling her that she couldn’t. She wanted to go home, she wanted nothing more than to return to the little haven she’d created for herself in this cruel world. Tate, though, seemed to really want her to go. She even swore that she heard his voice crack as he pleaded for the third time, although she was still behind him and couldn’t see his expression.

  “It just doesn’t make sense, though,” Vodan said, shaking his head. “Why would I give her up now that I have her? I couldn’t have asked for something better.”

  Elsie shuddered at that, at his tone, at the suggestion behind his words. Tate reached behind himself and extended his hand to her; she took it, clutching it tightly.

  “I want to go home,” she found herself saying, feeling pathetic before the words had even finished coming out.

  Vodan shook his head again, this time aimed at her. “I’m sorry, dear girl,” he said. “You’re just too valuable.”

  She didn’t understand that, didn’t understand why they would possibly need her there. “They’ll look for me,” she said, feeling one last desperate hope. “You seem to not want them here, but they won’t stop looking until they find me.”

  He grinned at that, and it wasn’t unkind. “That’s what’s so convenient about your friend. She’ll remember you both running off to mortal lands together, and she’ll tell everyone that you decided to stay. No one will think twice about you.”

  “That’s not...” she protested, then trailed off. Tate finally turned slightly so she could see his face, and there was defeat there. She looked wildly around and seemed to feel the cave walls closing around her. She was stuck here, well and truly trapped. Tate had been stubborn, yes, but she’d assumed he’d send her home eventually, or if not that, then the Queen’s Guards would find her. But there was no getting home, that was clear now, and if everyone thought that she’d left willingly...she was stuck.

  She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been clutching at Tate’s hand, her nails digging into his flesh, until he squeezed hers gently and guided her next to him. She pressed herself into his side without a thought about it, and the heavy arm he put over her shoulders made her somehow feel more secure. More grounded.

  “You have what you want, as always,” Tate said, and the sound rumbled through him against Elsie’s ear. “Leave this place.”

  Vodan nodded, finally—finally—agreeing with anything. Elsie breathed a sigh of relief as he disappeared past the mouth of the cave.

  She stepped away from Tate, looking over him. His touch had comforted her, but—he hadn’t really tried. He’d promised that she would go home, and now...

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, looking helpless in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Elsie, I...there’s nothing I can do.”

  She was silent, despite the words on the tip of her tongue. He could have shifted right there and killed Vodan without him even being able to react. He could have done something. She didn’t want to say it, though. She didn’t want to voice her hurt that he hadn’t fought for her.

  So she nodded slightly and turned from him, and headed toward the blinding sunlight to find Juliette.

  •••••

  Elsie dug through her small pile of belongings, desperate for anything that might serve her purpose. She had demanded to return to the cabin, to find what she could to make sure Juliette would be warm enough for her journey home.

  Tate had thought she was being ridiculous, and had repeatedly insisted that nothing could harm Juliette in her current state, cold included. The look Elsie had shot him had been so scathing that he’d backed down immediately.

  She had to admit that he was probably right. After Vodan had left, she’d sprinted to Juliette’s side. She’d put her hand to Juliette’s neck right away, and when she hadn’t felt anything her chest had seized up and tears had sprung to her eyes. It had felt like a lifetime before she’d heard a faint thump, and then another lifetime before the next.

  She scrambled as she tore apart the room. There were books—plenty of paper to write on—but not a single thing to write with in the entire room. This might be her only chance to let anyone know that she needed help, and that she very much wanted to be found; but there wasn’t a single pen, not a drop of ink, not a scrap of lead.

  Her eyes settled on the trunk. She had the supplies for sewing...

  She pulled the heavy shawl from the trunk, and began to work as quickly as she could in a discreet corner.

  Her letters were tilted, her spacing was uneven, but after several minutes of work she had a readable message. She’d had a hard time deciding what to write, deciding how to convey her plight in the few minutes that she had. She’d finally settled on three words.

  Help

  North

  E

  The words were hidden away in a corner, and she only hoped that she hadn’t hidden them too well to be found by their intended audience. She wished that she could be more specific, but...she had no idea where she was. She had no idea what she faced.

  She pulled the gloves from the trunk, too, and folded the shawl carefully over her arms before she descended the path back to camp.

  Juliette was where she’d been. It was an unsettling sight; she was paler than Elsie had ever seen h
er, even in the throes of her fever, and when she reached around her to fasten the shawl around her shoulders, her skin was cool to the touch. Elsie had to remind herself that there was nothing more that she could do, that this was to save her, and that Juliette was the lucky one who would get to go home.

  Tate watched her disapprovingly as she pulled the gloves over Juliette’s hands. She turned to him with raised eyebrows, daring him to say anything.

  “She’ll be fine,” he said from closer behind her than he’d been before. “There’s only one pair. Keep them for yourself.”

  She turned her head to glare at him as she crouched over her friend, finishing tightening the glove around her wrist. “There are hundreds of pairs at the palace,” she said, turning back away from him. “If you’ll only take me there, I’ll be happy to pick a pair for myself.”

  She looked Juliette over, satisfied that her work was hidden under the sick woman’s long hair. She clasped the gloved hand in her own and felt an unexpected wave of sadness.

  She squeezed Juliette’s hand, and brushed her lips across her forehead. It seemed an inadequate goodbye for her constant companion of the last month, but...there was nothing more for her to do.

  Orin had been selected to bring her home, since he knew right where it was. Elsie eyed him warily as she stepped back from Juliette’s side, and he approached.

  “Please be careful,” she found herself saying.

  He didn’t respond, but he turned in her direction and nodded.

  “Maybe...” she trailed off. “Maybe when you get there you could make some noise before you leave, so that they find her right away?”

  She startled when Tate’s big hand came down on her shoulder, and relaxed when he squeezed it. “I promise she’ll be alright, Elsie,” he said. “I swear it.”

  She frowned up at him, dearly wishing that she could find it within herself to believe him.

  Twelve

  Elsie didn’t get angry often, but she found herself furious as she stalked back to her cabin, hardly caring that Tate followed behind her. Her cabin. She hated it. She didn’t want it.

  “Elsie,” Tate said from behind her.

  She ignored him, giving no indication at all that she’d heard him. She didn’t want to hear him; she wanted to go home.

  She continued up the path that was infuriatingly familiar, mad that she’d been there long enough to know where it banked in the wrong direction and where to step carefully. When she reached the door, she pulled it open—hard—and stormed inside; she wanted to slam it in Tate’s face but she knew that he’d already entered behind her. She whirled around to face him, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed.

  “I’m sorry, Elsie,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her face. “I’m sorry, I tried—”

  “Oh, stop it,” she said. “You didn’t try. You didn’t fight for me to go home. You sat there and you took orders from him and I can’t figure out why. You’re a dragon. You act like you have no power over anything—like you have no power over Vodan, or these people and their horrifying ways. You sit here and you act like you’re sorry about it but you do nothing. You’ve done nothing.”

  She waited for the inevitable guilt and regret that always accompanied speaking her mind, but this time, there was none. There was nothing but satisfaction as she stared him down, nothing but the sense that she’d said what needed to be said as she faced him, her chest heaving, her hair slipping out of its braid.

  He watched her through narrowed eyes, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerously quiet. “There is so much that you don’t know. There is so much going on here that you can’t possibly comprehend. Don’t presume to tell me what sort of power that I do or don’t possess.” He crossed the room and opened the door.

  “Oh good,” she called spitefully, “it’s good to know how things are here. So you do what absolutely anyone tells you to do—except for me. I’m glad that you can at least have dominion over a human woman, you must feel so powerful.”

  He was silent as he stared at her, the door still open, sweeping whirls of snow blowing into the room. “I’ll see you this evening,” he said finally.

  “Perfect,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s so comfortable here, with books in a language I don’t understand and not a soul to talk to. I’ll occupy myself by making and unmaking the bed, I suppose, or maybe I’ll sit by the fire and try to understand what I could have done wrong in my life to end up here, under your control.”

  He’d shut the door behind him before she’d even finished, so she shouted the last few words, knowing that he could still hear her. She was glad he was gone, relieved to be alone with her thoughts for a moment. Even if, she thought, it would have been nice if he’d stayed and they could have argued properly. She couldn’t recall ever speaking to someone the way she just had, but it felt...good. She was lighter somehow, not carrying all of the things that she thought and felt. Now he had to carry them, too. Rightfully so, she thought.

  She fell back on the bed, shrinking away from the cold blankets.

  She was weary of cold, sick to death of the bone-deep chill that had settled over her when Orin had taken her, that she hadn’t been rid of since. Fire helped, of course, but it only warmed the side of her nearest to it, and she found herself constantly turning to try to warm herself evenly. A bit like a bird on a spit, she mused. The bed had been freezing, despite being only a few feet from the hearth, and that had been with a feverish Juliette to warm her.

  Elsie immediately felt selfish over lamenting the loss of her ill companion, but still—she had been so warm.

  Leaving the little cabin was the worst of all because there was nothing to block the wind from her, nothing at all to stop the freezing air from seeping into every crack and crevice of her as she followed the little path back to camp. It was the only way to eat, she knew, so she tolerated it, but each time she followed over the increasingly familiar path, she cursed the wind and the weather and the whole stupid tribe.

  She knew that the only way to warm the bedding was to climb inside and let it seep heat from her. She also knew it would be worth it in the end, so she slipped between the covers and shut her eyes.

  It wasn’t that the cabin was inadequate for her, because it was quite similar to the home in which she’d spent half her childhood. It wasn’t that she longed for company, because more often than not she’d been left to fend for herself. It was that she’d never felt so trapped in her life. It was that she could plead her case repeatedly, she could beg and cry and flirt, but in the end it didn’t matter. She was here, without hope to be allowed to return home, without hope for a rescue—unless by some miracle they found the message she’d embroidered into Juliette’s shawl...and were able to decipher it.

  She had been forced into a new life five times now, counting the one time that she’d been too young to remember, and life at the palace was her favorite of all of them. There were other ladies there—and they hadn’t known where she’d come from, they’d only seen a young woman who was as smart and cultured as any of them. They couldn’t see her shameful past, couldn’t see what she’d been and what she’d done—they just knew her as Elsie, quiet and pretty and fond of dresses and arranging hair. As she wanted them to know her.

  She missed her friends and she missed her home. An ache that had nothing to do with the cold settled in her chest. She’d been forced into a new life five times, and with each passing day, she felt more sure that this would be the sixth.

  She rolled over and pressed her face into the cold pillow, wishing for sleep.

  Thirteen

  Elsie was relieved when Tate was where he usually sat to eat, and more relieved when he didn’t turn away as she approached. She couldn’t bring herself to regret lashing out at him, but...he was the only person she could possibly speak to. It was hard to hold a grudge against one’s only potential friend.

  It didn’t help that she’d fallen into a deep sleep and dreamed filthy things about him. She’d dreamed
of him nude, and dreamed of his body covering hers. She’d dreamed of his mouth, and of all the places it had covered on her.

  She shook the thoughts from her head as she approached him, but she couldn’t shake the heat that had pooled in her belly. He already held her dinner out for her, and she pasted on a smile that she didn’t feel as she took it from him, sliding into her place beside him.

  The anger was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been. It didn’t run as deep as the hurt that she felt, or as deep as the betrayal.

  That was a ridiculous thought, though, because he hadn’t ever pretended to be on her side. He’d been kind to her occasionally, but he’d never treated her in a way that suggested that he would advocate for her—and everyone knew that she would never do that for herself.

  It was hard to be mad at him, then, especially when he smiled hopefully at her as she sat, or when her hood fell from her head and he tugged it back up, without hesitation.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said quietly after long, silent minutes had passed; after the tension had eased from her shoulders and her gut.

  “I’ll answer what I can,” he said, after a short pause.

  She turned to him, and furrowed her brows at his answer. His gaze was intent on her face, searching, and underneath there was something she recognized. Something like hunger, which had been eating at her since she’d awoken from her dream. She shrugged off the thoughts and continued. “It seems like all of the men here are...family. Brothers or cousins. All except you.”

  He was silent, and for a moment she wondered if he would acknowledge her. “I didn’t join the tribe in the usual way.”

  “Why did you?” she asked. When he gave no indication of responding, she continued. “You seem so very different than the others here. You...understand them, maybe, but you’re clearly not one of them.”

  “Am I not?” he asked with a wry smile.

  “I don’t mean to offend you,” she said. “It’s just that—it seems as if, to them, this form—” she gestured around the camp “—is truly abhorrent. They eat as quickly as they can to avoid it. It’s clearly not their true form. But you’re different, somehow?” She hadn’t meant it as a question, but it had come out that way.