City of Dragons

“Let’s sleep here.”

She rolled her head to look at him. His face was very close, his breath brushing her lips. The warm water of the dragon bath had brought out his colors as well, she thought. Gleaming scarlet Rapskal. He was beautiful. And so was she. It was the first time in her life that she had felt beautiful. His eyes were on her face, and she could suddenly believe what she saw in them. It was heady to know she was attractive, to see that mirrored in his eyes. Intoxicating like nothing else she had ever felt. She tried her smile on him. His eyes widened and she heard him swallow.

She met his mouth and accepted his deep kiss. It was both familiar and strange. He shifted closer. “I just want you,” he said softly. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, even when I was too stupid to know what I wanted. Just you, Thymara. Please.”

She didn’t answer with words, didn’t even let herself think about an answer. She opened her mouth to his kiss and did not flinch from his exploring hands. She took his weight, and the Elderling bed cradled them both and returned their warmth. A moment came when she expected pain, but there was only sweet pleasure. I was ready, she thought, and then thought no more about anything.

“I just want to leave here.”

Water was still running down his face, and he had scarcely caught his breath from running back to the ship. Reyn had been the first to reach the Tarman; he supposed it was luck that Hennesey had found him first and told him that Malta and the baby were safe aboard the liveship. The mate had told Reyn to get to her, that he would find Captain Leftrin and Skelly. His sister Tillamon was out there, too, hurrying along with Skelly, looking in all the places that Malta might have gone to ask for help. He looked at his wife, wrapped in a rough ship’s blanket, standing by the galley stove, and blinked rain from his lashes, trying to comprehend what was going on. At last, he found a question. “Where’s the baby? Hennesey said you had the baby.”

Malta stared at him, and if it were possible, her face went paler. It made the scaling stand out more sharply. She looked as if she were carved of ivory and embellished with jewels. “On the foredeck,” she said quietly. “Tarman needed him to be there. So he could help him. I was so hungry and thirsty that I came to the galley. I wanted to bring the baby with me, but the ship said no. He needs to be where he is.” She paused, biting her lip. Then she added hoarsely, “But Tarman says that there is only so much he can do, that if we want him to live, we need to find a dragon that will help him. And Reyn, I killed someone tonight, a Chalcedean.” She said the words and then met his gaze, and his disbelief that she could do such a thing was mirrored in her eyes. Her forehead furrowed as she added, “I think he was the spy who was trying to have the dragons killed and the parts sent back to Chalced for medicine. But there’s another one and he’s still out there. Reyn, he was going to kill me and the baby and chop us up and take our body parts back to Chalced. To try to pass our flesh off as dragon flesh. To make medicine to cure the Duke of Chalced.”

He stared at her. “Sit down, dear. Drink your tea. None of what you just said makes any sense. But before you try to talk about it, I want to see our child.”

“Of course. Bellin is with him. I only left him for a moment, to clean myself and have something hot to eat.” She looked down at her scrubbed hands and then up at him. “I wouldn’t abandon him. You know that.”

“I never thought you would. Darling, you are not making sense. I don’t think you’re all right, but before we talk about that, I’m going to see our baby. You rest and I’ll be right back.”

“No, I’m coming with you. This way.” She lifted her mug from the table and walked slowly.

He followed her numbly, back out into the rain and along the side of the deckhouse, moving forward through wind and dark. Tarman was not like any other liveship that Reyn had been aboard. He had no figurehead, no mouth with which to speak. Nonetheless, Reyn could sense his presence plainly, even before he had stepped aboard the wizardwood ship. Awareness permeated the liveship. There was a dim glow from the foredeck, where a canvas shelter had been rigged. Reyn ducked under the hanging flap and saw a large woman sitting beside a hooded lantern and a very small baby on the wooden deck beside her. He stared wordlessly.

Malta clutched his arm tightly and held him. “I know,” she said breathlessly. “He doesn’t look as we thought he would. He’s marked, I know. Just as the midwife warned me. Just as everyone feared he would be. But he’s alive, Reyn, and he’s ours . . .” Her voice broke on the final words she uttered. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”