Abisai
We slip through the opening in the roof, and the forest greets us in silence.
Dawn is just beginning to filter through the treetops. The air is cold, and I already like this place more than I'd care to admit. I'm not sure if it's the forest or… it's her.
Zabina walks ahead of me, her cloak on and the hood pulled low over her forehead. I wear another she offered without my asking — the one that belonged to her father. I didn't ask questions. Not yet.
She moves between the trees with a silent grace, like someone who has learned to be invisible to survive. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't make a sound, knows every root and shadow. There's something in that quiet confidence that impresses me more than any warrior I've ever seen train in the courtyards of Anwar.
She's pretty. Too pretty. But it's not just that. There's something about her that has occupied my mind for hours, something I can't quite decipher, and for some reason, it's far more interesting than any answer she could give me.
"The village is half an hour away," she says without turning. "When we get there, don't speak more than necessary."
"Why?"
She glances over her shoulder at me, just for a second.
"Because you don't look like you're from here. And that draws attention. We don't want that."
She keeps walking. I smile to myself, enjoying the bossy tone she tries to use with me.
We walk in silence for a while. The forest at this hour has a special stillness, and I catch myself thinking I understand why she chose to live here. Or almost understand.
I lag behind for a moment and lose sight of her among the trunks.
"Zabina," I call.
Her head peeks out from behind a wide trunk. The hood has fallen back, and her dark hair spills loose over her shoulders.
"Is Anwar big?" she asks.
I approach slowly. She doesn't move, still leaning against the bark, her eyes lifted to mine. There's something about this image — her small against the massive tree, looking at me like this — that I can't let go of.
"Do you want to see it?"
She just looks at me. I know she's considering it. I also know that if I can convince her, I'll have saved my brother and regained my freedom. That's the only thing that should matter to me.
"Are all dragons like you?" she asks suddenly.
"How am I?"
She makes that gesture with her lips that fascinates me.
"I'm more attractive than average," I say with an arrogant smile, "but more or less."
I coax a smile from her that disappears as quickly as it came, as if she doesn't want me to see her enjoying me.
"Why did you kill the white dragons?"
The question hits me head-on, without warning. I freeze, searching her face for any clue as to why the hell she's asking that.
"Things aren't that simple," I murmur. "Where did you hear that?"
She doesn't answer. She sighs and looks up at the sky through the branches.
"They say you killed them. That you stole their gem. That you're evil…"
"That's not how it is."
"So how is it?"
"It's a delicate matter. How could a simple human know about the white dragons?"
A noise interrupts us. A herd of deer crosses a few meters away. Zabina presses against the trunk and closes her eyes for a second, as if she needs to compose herself. The moment breaks.
"We should keep going," she says.
The topic is left behind, but the curiosity still stings like a thorn under my foot.
The village appears between the trees when the sun is already up.
It's small and dull. Quiet. People walk with their eyes forward, and conversations are brief. I pull my hood down.
"The healer lived on the street at the end," Zabina says, and she grabs my arm with a naturalness I don't think she notices. "Let's go."
We cross the main street. No one pays us any attention; everyone is busy with their own things.
We reach a blue door, and Zabina knocks. An older woman opens it and looks at us with the expression of someone who already knows what we're going to ask.
"Mr. Marrider died two weeks ago," she says, and closes the door before we can respond.
Zabina stares at the closed door for a moment.
"I'm sorry," she says to me.
I look at her.
"Then help me."
She sighs.
"We already talked about this."
"Your magic closed a kirys wound in less than a minute, Zabina. Don't tell me you can't."
"I didn't say I can't. I said I can't go to Anwar," she whispers. "Those are different things."
"Why can't you go?"
She opens her mouth and closes it. There's something there, something heavy she's weighing whether to tell me or not. I wait. Pressing now would be a mistake.
"You wouldn't understand," she says finally.
She's afraid. A real, deep fear. It's not simple reluctance. It's the fear of someone who has a concrete, dangerous reason to refuse.
I don't understand it yet… but I will.
I lift my hand slowly and run my knuckles along her cheek. Her skin is soft and cold from the morning air. She doesn't pull away. She just looks at me.
"It's okay," I say quietly.
She frowns, clearly surprised that I gave in so easily.
Before she can say anything, I see them.
Four hunters at the end of the street, questioning a man who points in all directions with a clueless look. Kirys arrows gleam at their belts.
"We need to move," I say in her ear.
I take her hand and lace our fingers without thinking twice. She doesn't let go.
We turn the corner and stop dead.
Another group. And among them, with his back to us, Corin.
Rage rises in my chest like fire, but I crush it. This isn't the time.
We look around. To our left, there's a small chapel with the door slightly ajar. I push Zabina inside and close it without a sound.
The chapel is dark and smells of old wax and damp wood. There are only two narrow pews and a sealed window. The space is so small we barely fit.
Zabina faces the door, her back pressed against my chest. Neither of us speaks. The footsteps outside draw nearer.
She holds her breath.
So do I… though not entirely for the same reasons.
Because her hair brushes my jaw, and I've been following her scent of pine all day. Because in this ridiculously small space, I'm aware of every point where her body touches mine: the curve of her back against my chest, her hand still laced with mine, the heat she gives off despite the cold.
The footsteps stop right in front of the door.
"Did you check the whole village thoroughly?" Corin's voice is clear, calm, as if he hadn't killed Rader a few days ago. As if he hadn't tried to assassinate his king's son.
"Yes, sir. The black dragon isn't here."
"He couldn't have escaped like that. He's wounded," Corin grumbles. "Damn it."
He punches the door. The blow echoes inside.
Zabina turns toward me. She presses her forehead against my chest, and her hands cling to my cloak.
I respond with a gesture: still.
"He must still be in the forest," Corin says. "Let's go. He can't return to Anwar. That's what matters."
"He'll die before he gets there," another comments.
"You don't know him. The prince is very tenacious."
Zabina looks up at me, her eyes full of questions.
The footsteps fade away.
Neither of us moves.
She keeps looking at me, processing what she just heard.
"You…?"
I don't let her finish.
I lean in slowly, almost without deciding to, and bury my nose in her neck. That scent drives me crazy. I want to bite her, to taste her, to find out what the hell it is that has me so obsessed.
She doesn't pull away.
"What… are you doing?" she whispers, her voice trembling.
"I don't know."
I graze the sensitive skin of her neck with my nose. Her body shudders against mine.
We look at each other.
The hood has fallen back, and her dark hair frames her face. Her lips are slightly parted, and in her eyes, there's no longer fear. There's something much more dangerous: pure, raw desire, the same that's burning through me.
Damn.
I grip the back of her neck with one hand, turn her, and press her against the chapel door. My mouth descends on hers without mercy.
I claim her lips, her taste, every small sound that escapes her throat. My tongue seeks hers, and she responds with the same intensity. I kiss her as if I want to mark her, as if the world outside could disappear and only we two would remain in this dark chapel.
When we pull apart, we're both breathing hard.
"This… shouldn't have happened," she says quietly, her fingers brushing her swollen lips.
"Probably not," I reply with a dark smile.
"It won't happen again. You're a black dragon and a… prince. And I… I'm…"
"Don't say it."
She looks at me as if she wants to push me away, and for some reason, that seems like the best thing that's happened to me in days.
I open the door and peek out. The street is clear.
"Let's go," I say. "It's safe now."
She steps out without looking at me, adjusting her hood with trembling hands.
I follow, the smile still on my face, thinking Anwar can wait a little longer.
"That dragon was the one who betrayed you," she says when I reach her side.
I don't know if it's a question or a statement.
"How do you know…?"
"I can tell dragons apart from humans. What are you going to do?"
"Kill him when I have the time and opportunity. First, I need to find a healer for my brother. I can't let him die."
"I'm sorry…"
"For what?"
"For not being able to help you."
She quickens her pace.
I smile to myself, watching her back.
"Not yet," I murmur.