Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(76)

When I opened the door, Mabel gave me a frank look from head to toe, then she pushed inside like she owned the place. She inspected the living quarters, her lips a flat line. There was a stack of dirty dishes on my desk, and my rumpled blanket and pillows were still on the sofa. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to return to my bed.

“Rivelin, you need to snap out of it,” she said, thumping her cane against the floor.

Skoll padded to her side and gently nuzzled her leg in encouragement.

I sighed. “Why?”

“Well, for one, you still have one trial left, and you need to win the Midsummer Games for the sake of us all. But more importantly, you need to sort things out with Daella and bring her back home.”

Home. My chest ached. If only this truly had become Daella’s home. Instead, she belonged to Isveig more than I’d ever realized.

“Mabel, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but haven’t you heard what happened?”

It had been all anyone could talk about for days. Poor Godfrey was beside himself after losing his home, and so he’d dropped out of the Games for fear Daella would attack him again. Hege had also withdrawn, certain Daella would come for her and her wife next. But it was Viggo, the smug bastard, who had truly come out on top. Since he hadn’t stolen my swords, there was nothing stopping him from finishing the competition. And winning.

Then there was me, the Defender of Wyndale, who had failed miserably.

The Defender who had not joined the group that had taken off into the Ashborn Forest to track down our new enemy. It was a miracle they’d never found her, and eventually, they’d given up, choosing to return to their nightly feasts and celebrations rather than hold on to their fear and anger.

But they had not stopped talking about her.

“Oh, yes,” Mabel said. “It’s all gotten a bit out of control, hasn’t it?”

“What did you expect? One of Isveig’s murks came after us and then got away.”

She leveled her intense gaze at me. “You don’t truly believe that, do you?”

I frowned. “Don’t you?”

“Hmm.” Mabel hobbled over to my desk, collected the dirty dishes, and headed into the kitchen.

I followed. “That’s hardly necessary, Mabel.”

“Oh, I’m not cleaning them.” She dropped the dishes into the sink. “You are.”

My frown deepened, but I moved to the sink regardless. “All right. But only because it’s you.”

She leaned against the countertop as I filled the sink with water. As I worked through each dish, she nodded and offered a towel to dry them off. By the time I was done, my hands were covered in suds and wrinkled skin.

“That right there is water, one of the four elements,” she said as I placed the final dish back in the cupboard. “Now, did you know there are two creatures in this world who suffer from that element’s kiss, so long as there’s no salt to dull it?”

“Isn’t there just one? Orcs.”

“No. Orcs and…?”

I searched my mind for an answer, but there was only one thing it could be.

“And dragons?” I asked, my heart sinking. “So what you told the others is true, then. Orcs and dragons are somehow related.”

“Orcs were first forged in dragon flames. That’s how they came to be. My late husband, who was an orc himself, had an ancient tome that chronicled the entire history of his people, and all that was in it. Unfortunately, it went missing when Isveig attacked our town.”

I paced from the sofa to the armchair. “If that’s true, then why don’t you believe Daella was involved in the dragon attack on Godfrey’s home? Having a connection to the dragons means she’s the only one who could have done it.”

Deep down, my hope had lingered this past week. A desperate part of me wanted to believe this whole thing had been a colossal, horrible mistake. I’d spent the past six days trying to patch together a way Daella could be innocent, but I always came up empty. Nothing else made sense. All signs pointed her way, and she had run.

“This was in the book, too. No one can order a dragon to attack unless they’ve formed a Draugr bond with them,” she said. “Unlike other folk, orcs don’t need Fildur sand to do that. That said, if Daella had, you would know.”

“All right. How?”

She stared at me intently for a moment, then said, “That ice shard would no longer be a problem. The magic of the bond would counteract it to keep her safe. Dragonfire can be a wondrous thing.”

I searched her gaze, taken aback. “How in fate’s name do you know about Isveig’s ice shard?”

“Haldor told me. I’m fairly certain he told a few others, too.”

“Of course he did. You can’t say anything in this village without it turning into gossip.” I sighed and ran my hand down my face, thinking. “Let’s consider all this true. If Daella didn’t order the dragon to attack Godfrey’s house, who did?”

“Now, see, here’s where I might need your help. I had a poke around the remains of Godfrey’s house after the embers died. There was an awful lot of Vatnor sand scattered around everywhere. It no longer has any magic to it now, of course, ‘cause of the dragonfire. I reckon Reykur caught scent of it and came to destroy it out of fear. Dragons don’t much like Vatnor sand. It’s one of the few things in this world that can kill them.”