Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(21)
She nodded, though her face was still pale. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, Daella, though I’m sorry you had to do that. He’ll have his eye on you now, and he doesn’t forget things easily. He hasn’t left me alone since I turned down his advances last Midsummer.”
“It’s fine. I have a lot of experience dealing with bastards like him.”
Rivelin gave me another considering look, the kind that felt like he could see straight through me. Based on everything he’d said to me so far, he probably thought I’d only stood up for Lilia to gain his trust, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. My instincts had taken over the second Gregor had wandered out from behind the wagon.
“Let’s go get you set up, Lilia,” Rivelin said, reaching for the wooden yoke that jutted out of the front of the wagon. “Everyone’s excited the Traveling Tavern is here. They can’t wait to have some of your signature brew.”
Together, the elven brother and sister pulled the wagon to a corner of the square, where a crowd was already gathering. I started toward them to help when the intoxicating scent of dragon washed over me. My heart jerked into my throat as I whirled in the direction of the breeze, trying to pinpoint the source of it. But then it was gone, almost like a dream.
Pressing my lips together, I fought to remain calm, even as that old familiar fear burned through my veins, flushing my cheeks. In the excitement of the ceremony and from the magic of the morning air, I’d loosened the grip on my priorities. I’d forgotten why I was here. The people of this village might seem decent, but they were hiding a secret that could burn the whole world down.
A n hour later, Rivelin took me down a winding dirt path that led out of the village. He went back to his gruff silence, and I went back to covertly searching for any sign of dragon magic. If he was a Draugr, there should be signs. There always was. His eyes could show a hint of it—a flash of orange when he got angry. His skin might feel hotter than expected, even on a summer day. The smell was an obvious indicator, but except for that earlier whiff, the pungent odor was nowhere to be found now.
I thought about reaching out to brush my fingers across his arm, but…my chest tightened at the idea. No, I would not be doing that, thank you.
“So,” I said, our boots crunching on some fallen leaves as we passed beneath the lush canopy of the woods near the village. “You’re a blacksmith.”
“Very clever observation.”
“Curious profession, what with all the heat and fire. Elves have an affinity with water. Don’t you have some strands of Vatnor magic in your blood?”
“A little. But I like the way heat feels against my hands.”
A strangled cough scraped from my throat, and I tried to hide it by stumbling on a tree root and falling flat on my face. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the best idea. Pain radiated through my cheek, where it had hit the ground hard. Rivelin wrapped a gloved hand around my arm and hauled me to my feet, our chests brushing because of the closeness. His fingers pressed into me. Even through the gloves, I could tell they were warm and strong but not blazing hot like a Draugr’s.
And he held on, still, even though I was back on my feet.
I swallowed.
He shifted closer. I tipped back my head to keep his eyes in my field of vision, taking note of the ripple in his jaw and the slight flare of his nostril.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” His breath whispered across my skin, nearly making me shudder.
I tried to take a step away from him, but my back hit a tree. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t play coy. You’re trying to root out information to take back to your emperor. You are a mercenary, Daella. You even admitted you signed his contract.”
“And I told you. It wasn’t by choice.”
“It’s always by choice.”
“Not when you’re me,” I insisted, fisting my hands. “His army destroyed the last of the orcs, and there weren’t that many of us in the first place. Do you really think I would want to work for a monster like that?”
“They say you live in his castle—that you’re his protected little pet.”
I flinched. His attention zeroed in on me, like he’d noticed the reaction.
“I’ve lived in the castle most of my life. Before he came along, I was a serving girl for the king; a very kind, very generous orc. My parents were killed when I was young, and he took me in. Isveig used to visit the castle with his family. We were…friends. And so when he took Fafnir as his, he spared my life—but not my freedom. He keeps me hidden away in a tower when I’m not out on a quest for him. The doors are always locked. None of this was my choice.”
The words spilled out of me and left me breathless. With the rough bark scraping against my exposed skin, I lifted my chin and silently dared Rivelin to make another snide remark about my willingness to become one of Isveig’s murks. I didn’t know why I even cared. I didn’t need his approval.
I did need his trust, though.
Still, the idea he might laugh in my face made my heart twist into shredded ribbons. I was not the person he believed me to be, and I desperately wanted him to see it. If he trusted me, maybe he’d lower his defenses a bit, and I could find out where the Draugr were hiding—and if he was one, too.