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Drago tried, but he could not shield his heart from the maiden’s words. First he told himself he’d misheard her, for she’d spoken it so softly—but her embarrassment had only confirmed his hearing. Yet he refused to let it affect him.
He had no choice. To open his heart to her would risk everything.
Literal centuries of training saved him. He clung to it like a lifeline, sealing the walls that held his heart against her influence. He’d ordered her to quit speaking—rudely—but he had no choice. Her sputterings had only made her more endearing. He had to make her stop talking just then.
Lagos had slowed the higher they climbed. Drago worried first for the bracelet she wore. Did it burn her again? Had they made enough progress to ease it? Then he chided himself. It mattered not, except that the Demon wanted her unharmed. He’d only given her the salve and wrapped her wrist to save himself.
His mind replayed that so many times, he could almost believe it.
The Demon had taught him a valuable lesson in Alyssa, and he’d be a fool to forget that teaching because of a pair of emerald eyes. Or skin like silk. Or hair that glistened in the sun like fire. Or a laugh that made him forget his soul was damned for eternity.
Drago growled low in his throat and urged Lagos forward. They had to make better time. If he spent much more time in the maiden’s presence, he would be utterly lost.
The hood of his cloak settled over his head once again. Drago sighed. Yes, my master?
What is your progress, Warrior?
We have reached the mountains, Master.
And the maiden?
She is unharmed, though your bracelet has caused her pain.
A deep laugh. I care not for her discomfort. I only require her pure soul.
Yes, Master.
It is good to know you are so close. I only puzzle over why I cannot sense her. She still wears the cloak?
Of course, Master.
It is strange that my power cannot see her. The token I gave her is the only thing that alerts me to her presence. I would like to hear her, to feed from her fear.
Drago frantically tamped down the protective urge that struck him.
Amusement. Really, Warrior? You feel such over a maiden of Light?
Only as she has value to you, Master.
I will not punish you for this, as it serves me. But temper your feelings, Warrior. They serve you ill.
Yes, Master.
Drago felt the Demon’s presence leave and pulled the hood down. He could feel her watching him, but did not dare meet her eyes now.
She spoke anyway. “What was that? You suddenly felt so cold.”
“My Master communicates with me through the cloak,” he explained shortly. “He would do so with you, but it seems your cloak is defective.”
She shuddered delicately. “How awful. What a blessing to be spared that.”
Drago huffed an impatient breath through his nostrils. “You think so, Maiden?”
She drew herself up. “I do. I would hate to feel so vulnerable, so exposed to him.”
“You will be much more exposed to him before your life is spent, believe me.” With that chilling pronouncement, he vowed he would not speak to her again.
***
Genna shivered again, not liking at all the picture his words painted in her mind. She knew she couldn’t avoid it, but she could do without the reminders.
She raised a hand and fingered the hood of her cloak, part of her tempted to pull it over her head. But Drago hadn’t done that, the cloak had settled itself on him when his foul Master had commanded it. Drago hadn’t spoken, yet he’d communicated with the Demon, so she’d concluded the monster could read his thoughts. How awful to think the Demon had planned to do the same with her.
Genna let the hood fall against her back and put her hands on her lap. She raised a prayer to the heavens, this one of thanksgiving, that she had at least been spared the torment of the Demon invading her head during this arduous journey. It was a blessing, and she valued it.
They did not stop, but Drago passed her an apple from his saddlebags, which she ate in the strained silence between them. A thin sheen of sweat formed across Lagos’s shoulders. Twice, without considering it she patted the unicorn and urged him on. It seemed to help him draw from his reserves of strength to keep carrying them up the mountain.
Genna yearned to ask how long until they reached the Demon’s lair, but did not dare reopen communication with Drago. She could feel the anger flowing from him and had no wish to have him direct more of that at her. She knew her desire for conversation was silly, and had proven dangerous—since his voice affected her so.
From the first moment she could remember until the night he took her, all her life had been full of laughter, conversation, and the general activity of family. This near solitary existence was worse to her, in some ways, than the fate that awaited her.
Lagos whinnied shrilly, nearly frightening Genna off his back. Drago tightened his grip on her and pulled back on the reins. His free hand went immediately to his sword.
“What is it?” she asked, hating the fear in her voice.
“Silence.” His voice at least lacked the anger of a few moments before.
Genna looked around them but could see no sign of danger. Meanwhile the unicorn underneath them pranced nervously, shaking his head in obvious agitation.
Then, quite suddenly, the rocks in front of them began to move. Slowly, but distinctly, they turned and stood up. It took Genna a moment to realize they weren’t rocks at all but creatures with great misshapen heads, huge trunks for arms and legs, and bodies that resembled stone.
Drago sighed his frustration across the top of her head. “Ogres.”
Her scream burned her throat, but could not escape through her tightly clamped jaw. Genna knew the stories of ogres. She fumbled for the two knives in their sheaths on the saddle, but Drago’s large, gloved hand covered hers.
“What are you doing?” he questioned.
“What are you doing?” she echoed, frantic. “Draw your sword! We have to get out of here!”
To her utter astonishment, he looked amused. He handed the reins to her and slid from Lagos’s back. Genna watched, horrified, as he approached the ogres with his hands outstretched at his sides.
She would never forget their exchange, even if it took her confused mind several heartbeats to realize Drago was talking to them. Well, perhaps not talking, exactly, but communicating. He uttered a series of grunts, which they replied to with grunts of their own. Then they gestured to her, or to Lagos—she couldn’t tell which—and grunted some more. Drago grunted back, this time gesturing wildly with his arms.
They laughed. Was that laughter? Genna shook her head to clear it. Had she lost her reason?
One ogre approached Drago in what appeared to be an intimidating manner. Drago stepped into the approach, his arms folded across his chest. More grunts were exchanged, some shoving, and then Drago yelled at the ogre, gestured back to her and Lagos, and received a nod.
A nod of what? What had he just agreed to do?
Drago returned to her side, muttering under his breath. He opened the flap of the saddlebag and dug around inside.
Genna couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “What’s happening?”
“Just wait. Be silent, and wait. It will be over soon.”
“I don’t understand,” she argued.
He put a hand on her arm, and settled his gaze on hers. “Trust me, Maiden. All is well.”
He had to be mad, expecting her to trust him.
She had to be mad, trusting him.
Genna watched him pull some cloth from the bag and carry it to the ogres. He handed it over to the one who seemed to be the leader, and the ogre tore it open in a manner that reminded Genna of a child opening a gift. She watched the bizarre exchange in astonishment, just as eager as the ogres appeared to be to see what was inside.
Hats.
Over-sized hats of varying colors and designs. The ogres fought over them, but gently, as if they were afraid to rip them. One hat fell, and one ogre who had not participated in the exchange at all picked it up and put it on his head.
Genna pressed a hand over her mouth to prevent a laugh from escaping. Whatever was happening the ogres seemed happy. Drago received more than one thump on the back that would have brought her to her knees. After a moment he turned and remounted Lagos, taking the reins from her hands and urging the unicorn in a wide arc around the bickering creatures.
“Now will you explain what that was all about?” Genna queried once they were out of earshot.
“They like hats,” he said with a shrug of his great shoulders. “Typically ogre sentries guard a path until someone comes along. Then they demand payment before they allow you to pass. I used to fight them, until I realized it was much easier to simply carry hats with me. It’s less exhausting, as well.”
“But ogres are monsters,” she argued. “They eat children and can tear a grown man’s arms from his body.”
He looked down at her. “Perhaps you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
Genna bit her lip and turned ahead. She didn’t want to think about how everything she’d ever heard about ogres could be untrue.
At the same time, she couldn’t deny what she’d seen. “Do they like other things, besides hats? Have you ever traded anything else with them?”
He was silent long enough that she thought he wouldn’t answer her. “It’s taken me several decades of bartering to learn that they like hats best.”
Genna fell silent, pondering what he’d said. It reminded her of their previous conversation, about how things aren’t always as they seem to be. Ogres, who appear vicious and terrifying, bantering with a human and then accepting hats as payment. That thought led to another, and before she knew it she found herself wondering who made the hats in the first place?
“I guess our journey through the mountains won’t be as dangerous as I’d feared,” she said, thinking that if ogres were the worst of it, they could relax.
“Trust me, Maiden.” Drago’s voice was at her ear, making her shiver. “There are still plenty of dangers ahead.”