Master of Dragons Read Online Free Page B

.”
    “We’re not going
south.”
    Marcus smiled at
her, to take the sting out of his refusal, and shook his head, and kept rowing,
though he was aching and hurting and almost sick with fatigue.
    And there it
was—the argument come around to where it began. Evelina heaved a disappointed
sigh, loud enough for him to hear.
    If he did, he didn’t
let on, and Evelina ground her teeth in frustration. She needed to hide her ire
from him, however, and so she bent over the side of the boat and cupped her
hand for a drink of water. She caught a glimpse of her reflection. Evelina drew
back, horrified. She looked a fright!
    Her hair was
tangled and matted with bits of twigs and leaves. Her face was covered with
dirt and streaked with tears. Her nose had swelled and her eyes were red as a
rat’s.
    “No wonder he won’t
have anything to do with me,” she said to herself, appalled.
    Not to mention
those accursed red-brown splotches on her bodice and her skirt.
    She couldn’t do
anything about her appearance now. When they stopped for the night, she’d take
a bath (modestly provocative) and she would scrub those horrid spots out of her
chemise and her skirt.
    Which would leave
her clothes sopping wet. She couldn’t put them back on. She might catch her
death of cold.
    Which meant that
she and Marcus couldn’t very well continue their journey.
    Not with her
having nothing whatsoever to wear . . .
     

2
    STANDING WAIST
DEEP IN THE WATER, WATCHING THE BOAT CARRYING Bellona’s body drift downstream,
Ven turned to wade back to shore. Glancing down, he saw a thin trail of blood
snaking out into the water and meandering downstream. The stab wound had
reopened.
    Evelina had struck
in haste. The knife had glanced off bone, avoiding any organs. He’d lost a lot
of blood, however, and he’d lost more blood when he’d slipped out of the city
of Dragonkeep to pay his last respects to the woman who had raised him and, in
her own strange way, loved him. His dragon-blood had acted promptly to start
the healing process, and the wound had already partially closed. He must have
torn it open during his strenuous exertions—carrying Bellona’s body to the
river, placing it in a boat, and casting the boat adrift, freeing her spirit to
join the spirit of her life’s love, Melisande—Ven’s mother.
    The chill of the
water had kept him from noticing. The dragon-magic seemed slower to heal the
wound this time. Perhaps the magical power inside him was growing weaker as he
grew weaker. He needed to return to Dragonkeep quickly, before he collapsed. It
would never do for him to be found outside the city walls.
    Emerging from the
water onto the slippery bank, he dug his claws into the mud to keep his footing
and it was then he saw the footprints. Two sets, fresh: one set small, made by
slippered feet; the other larger, wearing boots. He couldn’t spare the time to
investigate—every moment he was away was a moment his absence might be
discovered. Yet, he could not help but follow the footprints with his tracker’s
eye to try to deduce where they had gone, the two he was risking his life to
save—his half-brother, Marcus, and Evelina, the young woman who had stabbed
him.
    Marcus had been
back and forth to the water’s edge several times, dragging heavy objects along
with him. Ven recalled the boats used by the monks stacked on the shore. There
were none there now. He could picture Marcus dragging down one boat after
another, shoving each out into the river to float away downstream. Marcus
would, of course, have kept one of the boats for himself and Evelina.
    Ven looked back at
the river, at the bright noon sun glittering on the water. He could imagine the
two of them in the boat, Marcus rowing, fearful of pursuit. Evelina sitting in
the stern, gazing at Marcus with adoration.
    Ven had seen the
light of love burst into flame the first moment Evelina had set her blue eyes
on Marcus. Well, maybe not love’s light. Knowing Evelina, it was most