The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(60)

“Are you Princess Sorrowlynn?” Jessen asks. I nod, but even in the dim light I can see the skepticism in his narrowed eyes. “Northern princesses do not know how to fight.”

“Not until now,” I say, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin in defiance.

“I am Yerengul of Anthar. If you are who you say you are, then where is my little brother?”

I turn in the direction I last saw him and point. “He was there a moment ago, but now—”

My words are cut short by Yerengul’s laughter. “Jessen! We took down our own brother! I thought I recognized his voice before I cracked him over the head.”

“We’ll see,” Jessen growls. He tucks my knife in his belt, grips my upper arm, and drags me forward. When we have gone ten paces, I see a dark mass hidden by the tall grass. Jessen shoves me at it, and I trip on my skirt and crash down onto my hands and knees, landing beside an unconscious Enzio bound hand and foot by rope.

“Enzio?” I shake his shoulder and he groans. I move to Golmarr and lean over him, and my hair falls around his face. Gently, I lift his head and press my palm to his cheek. “Golmarr,” I say. His skin is cold, and his neck is limp. “Golmarr?” I pat his cheek, and he doesn’t stir. Carefully, I lay his head back onto the ground and glare up at his brothers. “What did you do to him?” I snap. “He already had a head wound!” I stand and ball my fists. “What did you do to him?” I shout, and shove Jessen as hard as I can. He stumbles back a step and grabs both my wrists.

“Yeren, check and see if it’s really him before I knock this little fox on the head to shut her up,” Jessen says, tightening his hold on me.

Yerengul kneels beside Golmarr and leans close to him. After a quick inspection, he gently shakes Golmarr’s shoulders. He looks at Jessen and nods. “It is him, but his hair is short.” Looking back at Golmarr he says, “Brother, wake up.” He lifts Golmarr’s hand and lets it go, and it flops back to the ground. “Evay is going to kill us if we’ve killed him.”

Evay. Golmarr’s sweetheart. The mere mention of her name makes me sick to my stomach.

Jessen curses and drops my wrists and kneels at Golmarr’s side. He lifts something from his belt—a water skin—and pours water onto Golmarr’s face. Golmarr flinches and swipes at his nose, and his eyes flicker open. Yerengul whoops with delight and throws his arms around his brother.

Golmarr groans. “Gently, Yeren,” he croaks. “Did you really have to hit me so hard?”

“You’re practically bald,” Yerengul says with a laugh. “I didn’t recognize your ugly face without your hair hanging around it. And you’re supposed to be dead! What happened?”

Golmarr pushes himself to sitting, and his eyes search the darkness until they find me. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?” he asks his brothers.

“Not as bad as she hurt me,” Yerengul says, rubbing his stomach.

Golmarr grips his brother’s shirt. “You hurt her?”

“No, we didn’t hurt her,” Yerengul says. Golmarr’s hand falls back to his side. “But speaking of hurting someone, Evay is going beat you to a pulp when she sees you’re alive,” Yerengul adds quietly. “When she found out you willingly pledged your troth to a Faodarian princess, and then followed her into the dragon’s cave against Father’s will, she flew into a grief-stricken rage. She’s been taking her pain out on anyone who so much as looks at her.”

Evay again. I drop my gaze and study my clasped hands.

“I never pledged myself to Evay. She has no claim on me,” Golmarr says. “Why are you patrolling so close to the border, and where are your horses?”

Jessen stands and looks north toward the forest, and the wind blows his long, dark hair around his face. “Nayadi had one of her visions. She said something was going to be coming out of the forest.”

“What?” Golmarr asks.

“She wasn’t sure, but I am beginning to think she meant you. Rest for now. Yerengul and I will get our horses and stand watch.”

Golmarr wobbles to his feet and clasps his brother’s arm for balance. “I’ll help keep watch,” he says, but Jessen shakes his head.

“Rest, little brother. Yeren gave you quite a bonk. We will travel home at first light.”



I do not sleep well, lying on the hard ground, wrapped in a cloak, between Golmarr and Enzio. The cool night air creeps into me, and no matter how I wrap the cloak around my body, I cannot keep the chill at bay.

My eyes pop open when I feel hands crushing my throat. Armed men lie dead in the smoldering grass beside me, and overhead a shimmering orange dragon circles through the cloudy sky—I can see it just beyond the face of the man trying desperately to suffocate me. I claw at his hands and squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again, the sky is blue, no hands are on my throat, the golden grass is free of dead bodies, and I am looking up into Enzio’s startled face.

“It is time to wake up,” he says. I press my hands to my throat and swallow. Enzio takes an extra cloak off of me—Golmarr’s—and helps me to my feet, studying me from the corner of his eye. “Nightmare?” he asks. I nod, and for a split second I see the charred grass again, feel the heat rising from it, and taste the smoke thick in the air. I close my eyes and rub them. “Sometimes, after the Black Blades have been attacked, I won’t sleep because I know if I do, I will relive the battle through my nightmares. It is the price we warriors pay.”