The Last Namsara by Kristen Ciccarelli

Author:Kristen Ciccarelli
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Three

Asha told the first story to lure the dragon to her. She told the second to keep the dragon calm as she cleaned the tear in his wing, and then the third as the slave stitched up the tear. As each story emptied out of her, the dragon filled her up with new ones. And each time, with Asha’s help, the creature’s stories were stronger. Less fragmented and clearer.

“Good boy,” she said when they finished, scratching his chin.

The slave—who’d been humming a half-finished song while he worked—looked up at them and smiled.

When the wing was mended and they flew Asha back to the clearing, the sun was well on its way to setting.

Asha fetched the lute case from where she’d dropped it in the trees.

“There’s just one thing,” she said, handing over the case.

“Oh?” he said, taking it.

“You can’t name him Redwing.”

He crouched down to unbuckle the case. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

“I do, actually.”

He stopped unbuckling to look up at her.

“Shadow is better.”

“Shadow.” He paused to consider it, then looked at the dragon stretching in the sunlight. “Shadow is . . . acceptable.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. But when he pushed back the lid of the case, the smile slid away.

He stared at the lute, but didn’t reach for it.

“This isn’t mine,” he said. His voice sounded strange. Cracked at the edges.

“I know,” said Asha. “I bought it this morning to replace your other one.”

“Replace my other one? What happened to—”

“I burned it.”

“You . . .” Very slowly, he rose to his feet. “You . . . what?”

Asha raised her palms. “Jarek found the room you were hiding in, so I did the only thing I could think of: I burned the scrolls, the cot, the lute. All of it.”

He grabbed her wrist, startling her. His eyes were a storm as he said, “Do you realize how heartless you are?”

The words scorched her. They shouldn’t have, because of course she knew. She was worse than heartless. Her heart was a withered husk.

She could have easily slammed her elbow down on his forearm, forcing his fingers to release her. But she didn’t. She wanted him to believe her. “I was trying to protect you.”

“You were protecting yourself,” he said. And then, like she was a monster he could no longer bear to touch, he let go, turning away, running his hands roughly through his hair. “Greta gave me that lute.”

The image of the gray-haired slave flashed in Asha’s mind.

“She was the closest thing I had to a mother. And now she’s gone, along with the only thing I had to remember her by.”

Asha felt herself unravel. As if she were a carpet or a tapestry, and his words were claws tearing out all her threads.

“I didn’t . . .”

“And you don’t care, do you? It’s why you won’t speak the name of any slave. It’s the same reason you didn’t want to name that dragon.” He stepped toward her, closer than ever. “If you name us, you might start to care.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.