after Kor left, a guest came down the hall and gave me a curious look, snapping me out of my stupor. I turned and pushed on my door—no handle, only a metal plate on the right-hand side.
I felt only a mild tingle from the plate—a sensation I might not have even noticed had I not been watching for one—and the door swung open. I slipped inside as quickly as I could and let the door swing shut behind me.
The room was surprisingly big. I’d expected a cramped, dorm-style space with only a bed and maybe a chair, but perhaps I’d underestimated this dragon-people’s need for space. Sure, a dragon could never have fit in here, but from everything else I’d seen of their architecture, they liked to build big. That only made sense, seeing as everyone I’d met except Kor had seemed like a giant to me—and even Kor was still just about six feet.
It was also…homey.
The room was brightly lit by more of the glowing gems that I’d noticed were the primary source of illumination in this place; at least, I assumed thumbnail-sized lights set into the walls and ceiling, shining with warm daylight-like radiance, came from gemstones, and when I touched the closest one within arm’s reach, I discovered I was right.
The stone walls of the mountain had been plastered over and painted a neutral but still warm cream, a couple tapestries of beautiful landscapes substituted for windows, and the ceiling arched overhead in beautiful curves that reminded me of castle interiors. The furniture was made of sturdy logs polished to a bright gleam, covered with cushions, and draped with furs. There was even a firepit in the sunken center of the room, with a coal-filled brazier that was already alight with a cheery and smokeless flame. I knew there couldn’t be smoke because, though I saw a shaft in the center of the arched ceiling, the surrounding plaster didn’t have a single smudge.
Also…who just left a fire burning in an unoccupied room? Or had that thing magically lit as soon as I claimed it?
I warily approached the fire as I examined the rest of the room.
The firepit was the central focus of the room, and the sides of the sunken level had a built-in bench that served as the single step down in two parts, and the rest was covered in furs of various shades and matching cushions.
At the far side of the room was a counter with a few high stools, what looked to me like a teakettle, and some canisters. To my left was a large desk with an equally large chair, again draped with a fur blanket. The desk had a few drawers underneath and a slanted writing easel on top. On the wall, just over the desk, was a set of four brackets, arranged as if to hold some oval picture. I hoped the picture was simply being replaced now and that the last occupant hadn’t stolen it—and that I wouldn’t be blamed for the crime.
I made a mental note to ask Kor—no, Ben was better—about it before we left as I looked to the right. Where, last but far from least in my weary mind, was the bed. Which, of course, looked bigger than a California king and was covered in a few giant furs. I stared at those for a moment. Had someone killed a few polar bears? Because those white furs were…massive.
I gave a tiny shudder.
The entire room had the air of thoughtful design and welcoming comfort without being excessive. I now understood why Kor thought these rooms were good enough for the Heir: they might not have the gilded extravagance that princes and presidents were accustomed to on Earth, but they were a whole lot better than most hotel rooms I’d stayed in and, in my mind, good enough for anyone.
Speaking of which, was all this luxury just…free? Kor hadn’t led me to a desk to check in or told me about any sort of payment system. If a fee would be due, surely they all understood I had nothing to give, right? Even if they had taken American credit cards, I just realized that I had somehow lost not just my shoes but also my hat and purse in whatever magical fall had brought me here. I felt guilty about putting all of this on Ben’s tab, but I didn’t have any other choice, and surely as the Heir, he could afford it. I’d just have to remember to thank him.
Right then, my body reminded me that there were a few needs I had to take care of. I reluctantly turned away from my temporary sanctuary and returned to the hall. I felt a little anxious letting the door swing shut behind me, especially when I heard the click of a lock. I felt the absence of any key or pass card, so to be sure I could get back in, I put my hand on the door plate just to feel the charge of energy and the mechanism unlock again.
Then I turned and went in the direction Kor had pointed. Sure enough, at the end of that long hall, there were two doors, side by side.
I realized I had a problem: Kor had not told me which door to use. The doors were clearly marked in the center of each…with a rune that was meaningless to me. Not even the colors were helpful: both were painted in a neutral white, and even if they had been different, I doubted they would have been the stereotypical pink and blue.
As I nervously stared at the doors and contemplated my doom of potentially committing the greatest social faux pas by going in the wrong door, I heard a warm, friendly voice say behind me, “Need any help?”
I turned to see a tall, pretty young woman with medium-olive skin and emerald hair and eyes. She wore a loose emerald-green tunic, brown apron with various pockets, green pants, and soft leather slippers. Those eyes gazed at me with the warmest, kindest expression I’d seen on anyone but Ben since arriving here, and I instantly felt more at ease.
“Yes, thank you,” I said fervently. “I’m…uh…new.”
At the last minute, I remembered Kor’s warning not to mention where I’d come from. Although what I was supposed to say instead, I had no clue. I silently begged her not to ask.
“You’re that girl Ben and Yvera rescued, aren’t you?” she asked, studying me with frank curiosity.
My cheeks grew warm at the hint of how quickly and widely word of me had spread. Now that all the danger was past, I felt the full embarrassment of being just another damsel in distress. But what else could I say? I’d had it handled?
That would have been delusional in the extreme.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I admitted.
“Don’t feel bad,” she said with a chuckle. “I couldn’t have scared away a whole tribe of ahglen on my own. Few of us—aside from Ben, of course—could. In fact, we all felt terrible when we heard. They’ve been giving this hold some trouble, but blood sacrifice.…”
She shuddered. “The guard should have taken care of them before something like that could have happened. I hear Elder Jaya’s going to send a hunt after them and apologize to you personally.”
She grinned. “That is, if Ben doesn’t sweep you away first. Rumor also has it he wants to leave first thing tomorrow and is taking you with him.”
My blush increased, this time at the implication in her words. “He promised to help get me home.”
“Right,” she said with a wink. Before I could protest further, she walked past me and pushed open the door to the right.
“Come on,” she said brightly, holding the door open. “Don’t be shy. I’m sure you’re ready to clean up after the day you’ve had.”
“You have no idea,” I said gratefully as I followed her inside.
I was also immediately grateful that I had some guidance, because what was the first thing I saw? A bench along the right wall carved from the stone, with uncovered seats set into the top at regular intervals. No privacy whatsoever. Lovely. At least I smelled none of the usual odors accompanying a pit toilet arrangement, so whatever they were doing to take care of the waste, it was effective. The wall was set far enough to the right that it wouldn’t be visible to an outside observer if the door were open, but still.…
Just so there could be no mistake of the seats’ intended use, the young woman went over to bench and took care of her business, asking me questions all the while.
She soon caught on that keeping up a conversation and overcoming my self-consciousness to take care of my business in front of her was a bit too much for me to handle at once, so she let us both finish up before saying with some measure of amusement, “You are new, aren’t you? What part of Vardak are you from?”
I blinked. Vardak? Something sounded familiar about the word, but I couldn’t place it. I figured it was just best to play along with her assumption.
“Um…a very…different part.”
“It must be,” she said with a laugh. “And I thought this place was remote. Come on, I’ll show you how things work here.”
I followed her, relieved both with her offer and that the inevitable question about my origin had been handled so easily.
Who told her I was from “Vardak”? I thought. Then, the inevitable answer came to me. I was a newcomer to Ben’s little group, but even I could guess who would have already spread just the right rumor to explain away my unusual circumstances.
Kor.
I resisted the urge to be grateful to him. For all I knew, Vardak was the hillbilly equivalent here, and Kor had taken the opportunity to “help” me by offering a mocking jab at the same time.
As I followed her down the hall, she asked, “So, what’s your preference? Shower or bath? And do you like to steam?”
“Steam?” I asked eagerly. “Like a sauna?”
“That’s a weird word for it, but, yeah,” she said, chuckling.
I was at a loss. “Uh.… What do you usually do?”
She shook her head with a smile. “When I have the time? All three. Let’s do that to make sure you know how.”
“Do you have the time?” I asked. “If you don’t—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a flippant wave. “I wasn’t looking forward to playing another dozen rounds of arkan before bed, anyway. You’re a breath of something new.”
Amid my fervent thanks, she showed me the showers, where I was particularly glad for her help, otherwise I never would have figured out the system of crystals set into the wall to control the flow and temperature of the water. Even, apparently, the level of oily soap, which was dispensed on command through the water itself. I was so grateful, I didn’t even mind stripping and taking our showers right in front of each other—again, no privacy, but her utter lack of body consciousness was rubbing off on me. Even as I tried not to take a hit to my self-esteem at how perfectly toned and spotless her tall, Amazonian body was.
To add to my embarrassment, Svyer—I’d gathered her name by that point—fussed over me a little when she spotted some scrapes and bruising, especially on my bare feet.
“I’m surprised at Ben,” she muttered as I tried not to go red under her scrutiny. “Since you clearly can’t self-heal, he should have sent you to the healers instead of straight to a room. And he should have given you shoes.”
“It’s nothing they could have done anything about,” I protested.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “There would have been someone with enough spark left to heal this much. I don’t know what the reserves are like where you’re from, but this hold has plenty enough, so there’s no need for you to be scrimpy. I’m assisting in the healing wing here for a few sevendays, so I should know.”
“Oh,” I said brilliantly. I reminded myself that this world’s rules were different. Here, the people could do more than shapeshift. Ben had also done magic of some kind to make me able to understand him, and his self-inflicted cut had healed before my eyes, so there could very well be solutions to even a bruise.
“I can heal that in the steam room, if you want,” Svyer offered. “I’ve still got some spark left, and the heat will help me a bit.”
“It’s nothing,” I tried protesting, but that only seemed to make her mad. Before she could give the lecture I could see growing in her eyes, I relented.
The next room was the sauna, which we went into with only a towel wrap that had been hanging outside for the purpose. Once we sat down on the bench, Svyer put her hands on my shoulders with a professional air. Then her green eyes glowed with an inner light, and I felt an amazing warmth sink into me.
It was like…feeling warm hot chocolate go down my throat and warm up my belly on a chilly winter day. Except all over my body, taking away every ache and pain and melting me into a barely upright pile of flesh.
“Flame Above,” she said under her breath, her glowing eyes open but unfocused. “From the state of you, you’d think you’d never gotten a professional healing in your life.… And.…”
Then she trailed off, sightless eyes going wide. A few moments later, the glow in her eyes died, and the warm feeling retreated, but by then, I was sweating enough from the steam that it wasn’t a significant loss. I sank back against the wall with the most contented sigh of my life.
“Thank you,” I said. “That felt amazing.”
Svyer bit her lip, looking troubled.
“What?” I asked with a sinking feeling.
“Sarah—that was your name, wasn’t it?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” I said slowly.
The young woman’s eyes darted to a couple of newcomers who entered the sauna. They sat on the opposite side of the room from us, well out of earshot. Or, at least beyond my range, but Svyer looked at me intently, and I heard her voice in my mind.
Her mental voice was gentle—not accusatory in the slightest—but there was a surprising undercurrent that took me a beat longer to identify: awe.
You’re not from Vardak, are you?
I looked at her helplessly. I didn’t know how to answer her back, either what to say or how to say it. I didn’t know how to speak mind to mind as these dragon people did—or if I even could.
Kor had warned me not to say where I was from, but he hadn’t told me why or how urgent it was to keep a secret. She’d guessed at least part of the truth, anyway, and I didn’t have the knowledge or skill to lie convincingly enough to erase whatever she’d just learned from healing my body.
My very…human body.
Suddenly, I understood why neither Kor nor Ben had sent me to a healer. If I’d been thinking properly, if I’d been as wary as Kor had tried to make me, I would have found some way to refuse her healing—no, I would have never undressed in front of her. I was just too different to expose myself in any sort of way.
Though surely this kind young woman could be trusted.…
I met her gaze while giving the tiniest shake of my head. Then I whispered as quietly as I could, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
I won’t, she promised earnestly. But…does Ben know?
This time, I nodded.
Good, Svyer said in relief, and she relaxed back against the wall. From the way she let it go, that seemed to have been the primary thing that had been bothering her.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, so I guessed it was time to simply relax. I did the same, letting the heavenly steam—scented with smells like pine, cedar, and incense—waft over my healed and loosened muscles as I tried to think of nothing at all.
Tried being the operative word, because this was the first time since stumbling into this world that I’d had the luxury of sitting around, safe and with nothing to do. Even on the flight back, the height and my whirling questions had partially distracted me. Now my thoughts could fully turn to my family.
What were they thinking right now? Had they noticed I was gone yet? Were they worried? What would they do when I never came home tonight?
My heart clenched and eyes squeezed shut. It felt wrong to be relaxing in a sauna like this. Shouldn’t I be doing everything in my power to get home right now?
I then snorted at myself. Like what? Marching out of this place and back into the dark jungle, where the ahglen waited for me? Perhaps worse, if Yvera’s urgency was anything to go by. Ben had said I needed to wait until morning, and that made sense on a practical level. I had no idea what kind of help I would need, but most likely it would require powerful and complex magic, and darkness probably wouldn’t help.
Waiting was the only thing I could do now, and while I was waiting, I should take care of myself. That’s what my family would want me to do. I would see them tomorrow morning and explain everything, and they would be glad to see that I wasn’t any worse off for my brief adventure.
At least, that’s what I kept trying to tell myself, but the entire time we sat there in silence, I inwardly squirmed with enough guilt that it threatened to tie knots back into my relaxed muscles.
Svyer got up. “Done?” she asked. I was relieved to see she didn’t appear to resent me for my deception. In fact, her smile was softer, gentler now.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then it’s bath time,” she said with relish.
The next room was the bathing room, with only two giant pools with sloped sides and benches for lounging, as quite a few women already were. There were even some children playing in the shallow parts or in their caretakers’ laps. The air in the bathing room felt cold after the sauna, and I was sure it wasn’t just my imagination from the steam emerging from one pool.
“That’s the hot bath,” Svyer said, pointing to the steaming pool. Then she pointed to the other. “And that’s the cool one, depending on your mood and energy level.”
I wasn’t sure what that last bit meant, but “cool” didn’t sound like what my muscles needed right now. Besides…I was a wimp when it came to cold water. Or cold in general. Winters were rough.
“Probably the hot?” I said. “Although…that looks really hot.”
“Oh, it’s not,” Svyer said, then hesitated, biting her lip. “At least…I think it’s not too hot.…”
For the first time, a scowl crossed her face. I guessed she didn’t like not knowing how to care for someone properly.
“Maybe just test it to be sure,” she suggested.
I dipped a toe in, but though the water was a shocking temperature, I thought it was one I could get used to, so I mimicked the young woman by hanging my towel wrap on a nearby hook and came back to the pool.
Svyer just plopped herself down with a happy sigh, but I eased into the water inch by embarrassing inch, with a lot more curious onlookers than I thought was polite. Either I really was a strange sight, or these dragon people were a nosy bunch.
Don’t worry about them, Svyer said, following the flickers of my gaze around the room. They’ve probably all heard about you by now, so they’re just curious. They don’t mean any harm.
“It’s rude to stare,” I muttered.
“Is it?” she asked curiously.
That took me aback. “Uh…isn’t it?”
“But it’s natural to feel curiosity, so what else are they going to do? Pretend you aren’t there?”
“Yeees?” I said, but I dragged the word out like a question.
That made her laugh. “Well, here, that would be rude.”
I was so floored by that statement that I had nothing to say in reply. By then, I had eased myself into the water up to my armpits, covering my chest, so I felt more comfortable.
I said, “If they’re that curious, I’m surprised they aren’t coming over to bother me with questions.”
“Ah, but night cleansing is an exception,” Svyer said as she lay back with her eyes closed. “It’s the time of day to focus inward. They won’t come over unless you indicate you want them to.”
That made me feel better, so I took advantage of my newfound knowledge by examining the others in the room a bit more openly. I still made sure not to look at any one person for too long, lest they mistake that as an invitation.
I noticed something interesting. I’d thought that all the dragon people had hair and eyes as closely matched and unnaturally colored as Ben, Yvera, Kor, and Svyer did. I’d also thought they were all sculpted giants. Though there was one other woman in the room who fit that description, I discovered the majority were much more normal looking.
Those women had the normal ranges of hair colors—mostly a dark brown in this case—and, from what I could tell at a distance, normal eye colors as well. Though they were all tall, none were as tall as Yvera and Svyer, and I wasn’t even the shortest one in the room, not counting the kids. Though none of them were fatty, their bodies were also more natural-looking: spots and sagging chests and body hair and cellulite.
Our shared imperfection was comforting, since I’d begun to think I was doomed to develop an inferiority complex.
“What is it?” Svyer asked. I turned and saw her eyes cracked open as she gave me a lazy smile. I was struck by the thought of a cat curled up in a sunbeam. The hot water, now that I was used to it, felt nice, but it didn’t seem to do the same thing for me as it was for a lot of the other women here; Svyer wasn’t the only one with the same lazy, contented bliss about her.
I added another detail to the list of things I was learning about these dragon people: they liked warmth.
I hesitated, wondering if my question was offensive.
“Go ahead,” she encouraged, sitting up a bit. Her eyes softened. Silently, she added, You must feel so lost here. I want to help.
My heart clenched with gratitude for this remarkably kind young woman. How else was I supposed to learn these things except by asking?
I leaned in closely. Even though the splashing and chatter around us probably masked our conversation, I didn’t want to anyone to wonder why I was so ignorant. She seemed to agree. When she leaned close enough that her ear was nearly at my lips, I whispered, “What’s the difference?”
“What difference?” she whispered back.
“Between you and…most of them.” I didn’t want to gesture, so I settled for that vague description instead. When her eyes remained questioning, I tried again. “The ones who look more like me.”
“Ah,” she breathed, and nodded. “That. Yes, that’s an important thing to know.”
Her full pink lips pursed in thought for a moment. Ben, Kor, Yvera, and I…we’re all what we call drakón. And they…are human.
I inhaled. “Like—”
She was already shaking her head, sympathy in her eyes. No, not like you. They, too, have the Blood in them. It just doesn’t manifest strongly enough to make them drakón.
I nodded, realizing now that the word she used for “human,” amón, had a different meaning than I had assumed. Not quite human. Still something other.
“Why are some…drakón, and others aren’t?”
She shrugged, idly swirling the water with one long finger. No one knows. We all have the Blood in us by now—there are no true humans left, not since.…
She trailed off with a troubled look and a quick sidelong glance at me.
You’re the first in a very long time, she finished, but I got the impression she’d been intending to say something else.
That was an avenue to explore later. For now, the single revelation she’d given me was enough. My eyes widened and breath caught as I put the pieces together.
“That’s why Ben doesn’t want to tell everyone just yet.”
She nodded, eyes still troubled. Your presence here is…significant. You think people are staring now, but as soon as they find out.…
“Am I in danger?” I whispered—so quietly, I worried for a moment that she wouldn’t have heard.
Her eyes widened in surprise. No!
Then she hesitated. At least…not from us. Or…most of us. It’s…complicated.
She bit her lip in clear distress. I’m not sure how much to explain right now.
Which made me realize I was feeling pretty darn toasty by now, and I decided I’d better get out before I turned as red as a lobster.
“That’s OK,” I assured her as I climbed out. “I’m sure Ben will get around to it tomorrow.”
Svyer hissed, and I glanced back at her in surprise. She was getting out of the water and ushering me to the towels. Get that on, she said urgently. Quickly.
I finally understood from the way she was shielding me from view with her…unwrinkled and unreddened body. Which was pretty much the opposite of mine right now.
Oh, I thought with a further flush to my cheeks. Another difference between me and them, apparently. From glances out of the corner of my eye as I hurriedly wrapped the towel around me, I saw that no one else, not even the “humans,” were as pink as I was from the hot water.
Let’s go, she said, silent voice still urgent even though outwardly she looked calm. I tried to mimic her expression as we strode out of the bathing room, stares following us. From the prickle on the back of my neck, I was almost certain that a few of those stares were more intent than they had been before.
Her shoulders relaxed a little when we entered the empty hall. She turned and looked me up and down, biting her lip. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “No—this is natural…for me. But it’s a good thing I didn’t stay in there any longer. I’m pretty sure that water was hotter than the average jacuzzi.”
She sighed. “Then don’t even try the springs at Crownhold—those might scald you.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” I said with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “Hopefully by this time tomorrow, I’ll be back home.”
She cast a troubled look at me that made my heart clench, but all she did was repeat, “Hopefully.”
Until then, I hadn’t had the time or inclination to consider whether delivering me home might be beyond Ben’s ability, or perhaps I’d had been overawed with him from the start. He’d said he’d help me, so I’d naively assumed that would be enough. Now, the first sliver of doubt crept in.
I didn’t ask her if she knew the odds of Ben being able to send me home.
I didn’t want to know.