Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(96)

Celyn pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I feel like dried dog shit,” he grumbled. “I haven’t felt like this since I went drinking with my uncle Addolgar.”

He pointed a warning finger at Elina. “Don’t go drinking with my uncle Addolgar or Brannie.” He thought a moment, then added, “Or me mum. Never with me mum.”

“Here,” someone said next to her. “Drink this.”

Elina looked up into those odd-colored eyes and the beautiful, softly smiling face of Rhianwen. “What is it?”

“Tea that will help your pain and soothe your stomach,” Rhianwen said.

“All right, but I can do without the yelling.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“It sounds like yelling!” Elina yelled, then immediately wished she hadn’t. She closed her remaining eye and let out a groan.

“Here. Drink.”

Elina looked down at the tea before her. She could easily see herself bringing all that tea right back up, but if this could help, she would try anything.

She took a sip, wasn’t completely repulsed by the taste, so she finished the rest in several gulps.

When she placed the cup down Rhianwen asked, “Can I look?”

Elina shrugged. “As you like, as long as you stop yelling.”

Rhianwen gently removed the bandages covering half her face before lifting Elina’s chin and carefully turning her head one way, then another.

“Good. Excellent. No infection.”

“You seem more like a healer than the hag,” Elina noted.

“Sadly, it’s not in my skills. I can clean wounds and such. But I lack the magicks required to help the healing.”

“And that bothers you.”

Rhianwen shrugged. “It could always be worse.”

That made Elina smirk. “Exactly.”

Kachka walked into the alcove. If the drink had bothered her, it didn’t show. She sat down beside Elina and patted her on the back.

“Here,” she said, handing her a piece of bark from one of the Steppes trees. “Chew this.”

Elina placed the bark in her mouth, nodded. “Thank you, sister. That helps.”

“Tree bark helps?” Celyn asked.

“The trees of the Steppes, yes. If used in poultice, it can help healing. If chewed, it will help with pain in head.”

Celyn held out his hand. “Give me.”

Smirking, Kachka stretched across the length of the table to drop a piece of bark into Celyn’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

Kachka glanced around the cave. “Do all Southlanders live in caves?” she asked Elina in their own language.

“No. Only the dragons. The humans live in grand homes. Made of stone. You can’t move them anywhere.”

“So they live in the same place . . . forever?”

“Yes.”

The sisters looked at each other and shook their heads.

“You know,” Kachka said after some time, “that dragon is worried about you.”

“I don’t know why. He’s not doing any better than I am after last night’s drinking.”

“Not your drinking. He’s worried about you. What happened to you with Glebovicha.”

“It’s just pity.”

“Perhaps. I don’t understand these Southlanders so I wouldn’t know.” She yawned, scratched the side of her neck. “So have you been f*cking him long?”

Elina shook her head. “Not long.”

“While he’s dragon?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

She glanced over at Celyn. “When human, he’s very pretty.”

“He is. But that’s over now, isn’t it?”

“Why do you say that? He was ready to sacrifice himself for you during the battle. You shouldn’t hold against him what happened to you.”

“I don’t. I never would.”

“Then what?”

She shrugged. “Why would he want me now? Look at my face.”

Kachka’s chin dropped. “Your face? How long have you been in the Southlands, sister, that you think so much of how pretty you are rather than who you are?”

“I can live with this. But a Southlander?”

“But remember old Tevkel. Her six husbands loved her even after she lost her arm and part of her hip in that battle. They loved her until she was gored by that bull during the spring rains. Love and desire do not fade away because of a few scars. Even for the Southlanders.”

“Tevkel was a mighty warrior who never disgraced herself in battle. Of course her husbands loved her. How could they not?”

“Even with your eye gone and your face and body covered in blood, you fought to live. You fought Glebovicha.”

“Not very well.”

“You fought Glebovicha,” Kachka said again. “No one thought you’d even try. But you did. So, there’s no shame in your scars.”

“Yes, but—”

“Why do you argue with me?” Kachka bellowed.

“Do not bark so when my head throbs from pain!”

“Then do not question me!”

“I will question you if I have need to!”