Bloodlines: Dragon Rider Book 2

Chapter 33: Deathwatch

Hey guys, sorry for not posting yesterday I wasn't happy with the chapter. I didn't feel like I portrayed the characters the way I wanted so I spent all of today adding in little things. And on another note, I got really bored with just one POV, especially now that we're getting into the good stuff so I'm switching things up a little. : )

Anyways, I hope you all are having a fun and safe coronacation.

Enjoy

Holland

    I've never liked raider harbors. The air stinks of salt, fish, piss, and too many alcoholics stumbling around. But this one in particular sucks too.

    I lay against the bars built too closely together, like the rest of this cage, and look past Clarika. Gold and yellow slowly take over the blue sky, bringing us toward night. The raiders Norah managed to befriend said the auctions end sometime at night when their slaves can no longer be seen by the crowd. For the majority of the day, I've watched the raiders wheel in their victims. Some were muscled and well-fed, while other's skin clung to their bones, ribs exposed beneath their thin, worn cloth, eyes sunken into their sockets so much you could stick golf balls there.

    I pitied them.

    There is no honor in owning another human or any living thing.

    When the three raiders guarding our cage aren't looking, Clarika fiddles with the long hunting knife between her palms. I never saw her grab the knife but I assume she picked it up during Norah's fight with Dario. She digs the tip between the links, trying to break her manacles.

    As orange streaks the sky, growing darker by the minute, Norah stops shivering. I peer down at her through the corner of my eye. Like Adam, she sleeps. Only she's curled up against me, face hidden by her arms. Long locks of hair stick out from her two braids, sticking to the dried blood and dust on my armor. She doesn't seem to mind, not when she's just as dirty as everyone else.

    But I think about something else.

    Norah doesn't usually insult people -- not verbally, at least. But insulting the blood mage, brought a liveliness to her eyes that I haven't seen in quite a while. Her smiles were deeper, the edges of her lips curling up more. The sass filled with total confidence. She wasn't lying when she had said she was having a blast.

    And then she was blank again -- her face and eyes completely void of any emotion...

I didn't push about the beating -- I haven't pushed about a lot of things. I don't know how to approach the subject, how to ask if she was alright, or how to help her. I hadn't watched her grow up. I don't know when to comfort or give advice. It certainly doesn't help make my job easier when she doesn't know what she needs either. I don't even think she understands what she feels -- not when her entire family taught her to be this way.

Still, I  try to think of ways to get her to vent.

For now, I let her sleep, shifting my attention to Clarika. The two are definitely sisters. It shows in the diamond-shapes of their faces, their straight nose, and high cheekbones. But where Norah's face is softer her sisters is chiseled straight from ice, definitely given to her by her mother. And their hair. One has silver hair, too blonde to be my silver. The other has dark brown and yards of it.

She must feel my gaze. Her eyes flick to me for a second, the glare on her face unmistakable, then goes back to her pointless knife work on her chains. Her hands tremble, knees brought to her chest with the chains pooled on her stomach. Easton notes the shivering and blue lips with a quick dart of his eyes but it doesn't linger. Before she can hiss at him, he turns to the dragons placed across the docks. Our dragons watch the raiders haul the slaves into the alleyway then into the auction. Most raiders come back with empty cages, or ones close to it.