Zabina
He sits up slowly and brings a hand to his head. Dark hair falls over his forehead.
His eyes find mine.
"Who are you?" he asks.
His voice is hoarse, as if coming from deep inside.
"Zabina," I hurry to answer before the silence becomes more uncomfortable than it already is. "I found you in the forest. You were wounded. I brought you here before the hunters could reach you."
He looks at me for a moment without saying anything. Then his eyes drop to his side, where the wound should be, and he frowns. He touches his skin with his fingers, slowly, as if expecting to find something that's no longer there.
"How is this possible?" His eyes return to mine. "Are you a healer?"
I blink.
The word falls on me like an unexpected escape, and I take it without thinking twice.
"Yes. That's what I am. A healer."
Something changes in his expression. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly.
"Good," he looks at me again. "That's very good."
He stands up abruptly. I stand by instinct. He's taller than he seemed lying down. He sways and has to hold onto the bed frame. He winces in pain, trying to hide it instantly.
My traitorous eyes slide over his marked abdomen before I can stop them. I look away immediately, my cheeks burning.
"You should sit down," I say. "Kirys leaves the body weak even if the wound is closed. You need to rest a little longer."
He looks at me in a way that makes me nervous.
"Do you live here alone?"
"Yes."
The silence that follows weighs strangely. Neither of us fills it.
Then we hear voices outside. Footsteps on dry leaves. He tenses suddenly, and his eyes go to the wall as if he could see through it.
"Don't worry," I say in a low voice. "This house is safe. From the outside, it's just an old tree. They always pass by."
He looks at me. We listen to the footsteps fade away slowly until the forest returns to its usual silence. He exhales.
He sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.
"It's strange to see a black dragon in these lands," I say.
He lifts his head abruptly.
"The Jurdiena forest is full of hunters near the border of your kingdom," I cross my arms. "You were lucky I was nearby. You owe me your life."
He raises an eyebrow. For a second, I fear I've overstepped, but then the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
"And how much does a healer charge for saving a life?" he asks. His voice is calm, almost amused, as if he's suddenly regained control of the situation.
"I don't charge anything," I reply. "I only ask that, as soon as you can walk without falling, you leave."
"How generous."
"How convenient for you."
He smiles.
"Abisai," he says.
"Pardon?"
"My name. Since we're being formal, Zabina."
The way he says my name makes me take a step back without realizing it.
"Do you have someone who knows where you are?" I ask. "Someone looking for you?"
The smile disappears. Something dark crosses his face, too fast to read.
"No," he answers. "Not for now."
He sinks back against the pillow and closes his eyes, as if that confession weighs more than he wants to show.
I stand in the middle of my cabin, in the only place in the world where I'm supposed to be safe, watching a black dragon fall asleep in my bed.
And not quite understanding how the hell I ended up here.
I set the table as if the simple act of placing two plates could normalize the situation.
For the first time since my father's death, I'm having dinner with company. Not the company I would have chosen, of course. But the stew is already made, and he needs to eat if he wants to regain his strength, and I need him to regain his strength if I want him to leave soon.
I peek into the room.
He's still there. Stretched out on my bed with one arm across his chest and the other hanging toward the floor, dark hair tousled on the pillow. The lamp barely illuminates him, and the shadows mark his jaw, his neck, his abdomen.
He seems asleep.
I approach quietly. I'm just going to tell him dinner is ready. That's all. I stop at the edge of the bed and look at him for a moment longer than I should.
His mouth is slightly open, his lips relaxed, without that arrogant smile that annoyed me earlier. Like this, still and vulnerable, he's... devastatingly handsome. My heart races. A traitorous flutter runs through my stomach.
Then he opens his eyes.
In a movement I barely register, he grabs my wrist. The world spins, and suddenly I'm lying on my back on the bed, his large, warm body covering mine, his hand pinning my wrist to the pillow.
He looks down at me, his eyes still half-lidded between sleep and alertness, as if he hasn't quite decided if I'm a threat or prey.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"Reflex," he says. "Don't appear like that out of nowhere over someone who just survived an ambush."
"I came to tell you dinner is ready..."
Neither of us moves.
I'm too aware of his large hand around my wrist, the heat radiating from his bare skin, the delicious weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. The space that no longer exists between us and should.
"You should let me go," I say at last, almost voiceless.
"I should," he murmurs.
But he doesn't.
His eyes drop to my mouth for an instant and then rise again. So fast I could have imagined it. Almost.
"Abisai..."
"Zabina."
He says my name exactly as before: as if he's savoring it. And that sound is more dangerous to me than any kirys arrow.
"Aren't you going to let me go?"
He lets me go.
He sits up and perches on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair as if he hadn't just had me pinned beneath his body three seconds ago.
I sit up too. I straighten my dress. I look away.
"You said dinner was ready," he says.
"Yes."
"Good. I'm hungry."
He stands and leaves the room as if the cabin were his. I stay seated on the edge of my own bed, my pulse still racing, wondering what kind of huge trouble I've just brought into my home.
I serve the plates without looking at him too much.
It's hard not to look. He's sitting in my only good chair with his elbows on the table, in that posture of someone who occupies space as if it belongs to him. There's something irritating and fascinating about that at the same time.
"Do you always eat alone?" he asks.
"Always."
"Doesn't it drive you crazy?"
"I got used to it."
I sit across from him and pick up my cutlery. I feel his gaze but don't lift my eyes from the plate.
"What?" I say.
"Nothing," he pauses. "It's just that I didn't expect a healer to live inside a tree."
"And where did you expect me to live?"
"I don't know. In a village. With neighbors."
"I don't like being surrounded by people. I love solitude."
"How old are you?" he asks.
"Why?"
"Curiosity."
"Curiosity is dangerous."
"Only for boring people," he leans back in the chair. "Twenty. Twenty-one..."
"Twenty-two."
He raises his eyebrows.
"Aren't you too young to live in a forest? Humans are as dangerous as dragons. A young woman alone is easy bait for predators."
"Thanks for the advice. I can take care of myself just fine."
"I don't think so."
We look at each other.
"You brought a dragon to your safe place," his voice is calm, without mockery. "Sensible people don't do that."
I swallow hard.
"Sometimes kindness can be dangerous in our world, Zabina."
"Do you think I made a mistake bringing you here?"
He smiles.
"No. You earned a favor. Now I owe you my life, and that's a lot."
"You don't owe me anything," I murmur.
"What is it?" he asks, looking at the plate.
"What do you mean?"
"The meat," he takes another bite. "It's very good."
I smile without meaning to.
"Deer."
"Did you hunt it yourself?"
I nod toward the bow and arrows hanging on the wall with my chin. He looks at them for a moment, and something crosses his expression—something that isn't exactly surprise but recognition. It pleases me more than it should.
He sets the cutlery on the table.
"I need to ask you for a favor, Zabina."
His tone has changed. It's no longer the charming, calm one from before. This is direct, unadorned, and that puts me more on alert than any smile of his.
"My brother is wounded. A kirys arrow in his chest, four days ago. Our healers can't do anything against the poison," he looks at me intently. "I need you to come to Anwar. Just for a day. You heal him, and I'll bring you back myself, I swear it."
My heart races.
"You're crazy," I say before I can stop myself.
"Probably."
"I can't enter a kingdom of black dragons."
"As my guest, no one would touch you. You have my word."
"Your word," I let out a laugh. "You know nothing about me. You don't know why I can't go, you don't know what I risk just sitting here with you," I shake my head. "I can't. I'm sorry."
"I'll pay you. Whatever you ask."
"I don't need gold."
"Everyone needs something, Zabina."
"Well, I don't. The answer is no."
He looks at me for a moment, nods once, and picks up his cutlery again.
"Alright," he says.
And he doesn't mention it again.
We finish dinner in silence. It's not exactly an uncomfortable silence.
I wish I could help him. But Anwar isn't a place I can enter and leave without consequences. If I were someone of renown, someone with enough power to issue a decree to protect me within that kingdom... maybe it would be worth the risk. Maybe.
"I'll leave in the morning," he says at last. "I don't want to keep bothering you."
I look at him.
"Maybe I can help you find someone. In the village, there's a healer who practiced magic. I don't know if he's still alive, but I can find out."
He stays still for a moment.
"I accept."
I smile and stand up too quickly, bumping my hip against the edge of the table. The cutlery clinks against the plate.
I pretend nothing happened and gather the dishes, feeling his gaze fixed on my back the whole time.