Dragons Lost by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

DOMI

As Domi walked back to the city with Gemini, she kept cursing herself.

Stupid girl! You should have killed him. He's the enemy of your people. At least you should have fled him! Now you return with him, again his slave.

She looked at Gemini who walked by her side along the boardwalk, holding her hand. The tall, slender paladin showed no sign of his earlier cruelty. With his pale armor, snowy hair, and noble features, he almost seemed handsome to Domi, a strong man to protect her, to give her a better life, to—

No! She tightened her jaw. If she let him care for her, if she became some kind of human pet to him, she would do so for Requiem. Whatever she would be to him—servant, slave, even lover—she would use this chance to infiltrate the Temple. To learn more about High Priestess Beatrix and her powers. To learn more than she'd been able to in the firedrake pit. How did the Temple know whenever a child was born? Did the Temple know of any other living Vir Requis? And perhaps most importantly, Domi could learn the fate of her father, her sister, and Cade.

Living with Gemini, I can help Requiem, she thought. And so she kept walking with him across the boardwalk of Sanctus, letting him hold her hand.

They must have made quite a sight—a paladin all in priceless armor, the white plates filigreed with gold and silver, and a scrawny woman in rags and tattered stockings, her hair a tangle of red like wildfire, hiding her face. Luckily the hour was late. Most of the soldiers had sailed off to hunt the Vir Requis, and those who remained in the city had mostly retired to their beds in the fortress. Only a handful of men remained on the boardwalk, watching the sea.

"First things first, we'll have to get you some proper clothes." Gemini glanced at her rags. "Those old tatters are nearly falling off."

"They're comfortable," Domi said.

A hint of harshness filled his voice. "I'm sure they are. But if you're to be seen with me, you must look like a proper daughter of the Temple, not a waif." He sighed, and his voice softened. "I promised to tend to you. Let me tend to you. Please."

She glanced down at her ragged burlap tunic, the rope around her waist, and her tall stockings that seemed formed of more holes than fabric. She sighed and nodded.

He led her off the boardwalk and along a narrow, cobbled street. Shops and homes rose alongside them, simple huts of clay, their roofs domed. A few trees grew from rings of cobblestones, and behind her, Domi still heard the sea whisper. They walked down several blocks of narrow, twisting streets.

"I saw a place here somewhere . . . where . . . ah!" His eyes lit up. "Here."

He led her toward a round clay house, taller than the others. A statue of an ancient druid rose in the garden, hands pressed together. Ilbane—the plant that burned weredragons—grew around the statue's feet, and Domi froze and hissed.

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