The Dragon Queen's Heir [book one]

22

THE FIRST THING I SMELL IS SMOKE. Groaning, I put my arm over my face. The cold chill of night penetrates my clothes, bringing goosebumps all along the back side of my body. Warmth spreads all along my front, however, the tantalizing smell of cooked meat wafting in front of me. I grunt and roll onto my back, the distribution of warmth changing as I move so that the entire left side of my body is ice-cold.

"You're awake." Something thumps on the ground, footsteps crunching in the leaves as Nikolai approaches. I turn towards him, sitting up on my elbows and allowing the blood to rush into my body. Nikolai's face appears in my line of vision, his brows knitted together as he watches me wake up. "Are you feeling okay? You passed out while we were moving. Just fell to the ground." He runs and hand through his hair and blows out a long breath. "You took the entire rest of the day to wake up. The sun just set."

I bring my knees up to my chest, hugging myself while I search the ground for the pack containing my dagger and my cloak. Nikolai must see me looking, because he ducks out of sight for a moment before returning, my black pack held tightly in his hand. "This what you're looking for?" he asks. I nod, taking it silently from him and taking out the cloak Mikki had given me, all the while trying to fight back the tight knot of betrayal forming inside me, both from my fight with Mikki and from my newest vision. Think about it later, I tell myself firmly. Nikolai doesn't deserve to see you frustrated and angry.

Eira flutters over to me, curling herself into a ball pressed up against my hip and sending me a steady stream of warmth through our connection. "Thank you for taking care of me," I say, putting on the cloak and making sure part of it covers Eira's half-asleep form. "I appreciate it."

Nikolai nods, his gaze remaining on me for a split second more before he turns to the fire and grabs a chunk of whatever's cooking over it. "Here," he says simply, pressing it into my hands. "Eat. You must be starving." I accept it gratefully and take a huge bite, not even bothering to see what it is, though from the smell, it must be some kind of meat. After several moments, during which I consume nearly half the meat in my hand, Nikolai says, "You never answered my question. Are you okay? This is twice now where you've passed out in front of me."

I pause eating and sigh, focusing intently on my lap and trying to come up with some kind of response that wouldn't give away my identity or make me look insane. "I'm fine. I think I'm just overwhelmed. It's a lot." I can tell my answer doesn't satisfy him; he opens his mouth as if he's going to say something more, then nods and turns away, picking up a stick and beginning to tend to the fire. I turn back to my food, finishing off what's left in my hand before brushing off my hands over the grass and laying back in the blankets.

The night sky opens over me, a black canvas dotted with splatters of white does and streaks of brilliant blue. I spend a few moments simply staring, the vastness of the dome stretching over our little clearing making me feel tiny. My eyes drift slowly closed, my mind gently drifting down into unconsciousness. After several seconds, the heat keeping my side warm dissipates; I groan slightly, only partially aware of anything outside the cold pushing inside my body, and roll over, pulling the blankets up higher they're up to my chin.

Somewhere, Nikolai calls goodnight, but I don't respond, shivers wracking my body with growing intensity. I curl up into the fetal position on my side, my knees nearly touching my chest, and push slow breaths in and out in an attempt to stop my teeth from chattering. Nevertheless, the cold creeps in, tendrils of chill spreading throughout my body until I can barely feel my limbs. At the same time, fog begins to form in my brain, filling each crevice until I can barely hear myself think.

I hang, suspended in a half-conscious, numb, careless state that definitely isn't sleep, for a handful of seconds before alarm flares dimly from Eira. Ash? she asks, poking gently at my mind. But the fog is so thick that I don't feel it; already, her words fade from my mind as my breaths slow, the gentle back-and-forth motion of my mind drawing me to just give up, to relax, to let things go. To stop. Already I feel myself giving in, the fog growing thicker and thicker, all contact and control of my body dissipating. Relax, an angelic voice tells me. Let go. Sleep.