Brindle Dragon Omnibus 3 Page 3

  “Fine, fine, gang up on me because you’re jealous of my fame.” There was a snicker all around the table, and Eist afforded herself a small smile. These people reminded her a bit of her own friends. Except…a lot more eccentric. And that was saying something considering her friends consisted of a time-hopping witch, a literal giant, and her old school bully who was nauseatingly pretty.

  “Someone fetch our new lass a drink! It’s rude to make her wait.”

  “I’d tell you to go get it yourself,” Ale’a said, her hands fully tangled in his hair. “But I finally have this sectioned the way I want it. And when was the last time you put oil of argan tree in your hair? It’s a bit dry.”

  “Sorry I haven’t exactly had time to maintain my hair in battle,” the man groused, his face resting against the table.

  “I’m just surprised. If I ever knew someone vain enough to do so, it’s you.”

  “Why, I’ll take that as a compliment!”

  Lottie let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll go get the next round. Maybe we could actually get one of the servers to come to us if you didn’t always try to make them stay for one of your stories, Valcrest.”

  “My stories are my legacy! Can you blame me for making sure I live on beyond my death?”

  “Yes,” Lottie said before striding off. “Yes, I can.”

  “Fine. You all can die as anonymous riders, but I’m gonna make sure I’m remembered.” His gaze flicked to Eist’s, friendly, but full of all those emotions that drunk people tended to show far too easily. “You know what I mean, right? Your parents are legends. Don’t you wanna be remembered for your own thing? Carve your own path?”

  Eist nodded slowly, and the man’s smile brightened. “See! The daughter of W’allenhaus gets it. None of you know how to dream enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s our problem,” Maston said with a dry laugh.

  “Why don’t you sit, Eist? They don’t bite.” Ale’a’s eyes sparkled slightly. “Well, a couple might, but only if you ask nicely.”

  Valcrest perked up. “I’ll bite even if you ask terribly. I just like to hear—”

  “Here’s your drink,” Lottie said, joining the table with a tray and handing out drinks to them all. Valcrest grabbed his instantly and took a deep drink before sputtering.

  “This is water!”

  “What?” Lottie responded with mock shock. “Huh, how bizarre.”

  “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

  “I know I’m clever,” Lottie answered primly. “I’m still alive.”

  “Fair enough,” the drunk man responded after a moment’s thought. Then he raised his water, managing to slosh only a little over the side. “To those who have fallen!”

  “To those who have fallen!” the others replied, raising their glasses as well. Eist just sat there, staring at their mouths so she could catch their words, but not able to lift her cup.

  He had to choose that toast, didn’t he? It was the most common of cheers among soldiers, among riders, among any work that resulted in plenty of death and destruction. But when she thought about those who had fallen, all her mind was filled with was Yacrist.

  He wasn’t dead, not technically, but she had lost him. How could she possibly toast to that? How could she cheer to her failure?

  “You alright there, young rider?” Valcrest asked, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Yeah, I just… I…” To her surprise, it was Lottie who reached forward and cupped her hand’s over Eist’s where she was clutching her tankard.

  “We’ve all lost people. We’ve made mistakes that have gotten our loved ones and friends killed. If you hold that guilt inside, it will destroy you from the inside out.”

  “I… I don’t know how to deal with this,” Eist admitted. It was about all she could admit. She had long since learned how to deal with death, as she’d lost her parents when she was young. It hurt, but it was finite.

  But nothing about Yacrist was finite. It was like he was stuck in some sort of limbo where she couldn’t let him go, because letting him go would be admitting that she couldn’t save him.

  And she could.

  She had to.

  “Then don’t!” Valcrest said, possibly the last thing she expected him to say. “You can’t rush things you’re not ready for. So, in the meantime, you might as well drink!”

  Eist looked down into the honey-colored depths of her tankard. “I think I can manage that,” she said, finally raising her cup.

  “To saving even those we think we’ve lost,” she said with determination.

  “Ay, that’s my girl!” Valcrest said, clinking his own drink against hers. “To the lost!”

  And then they were all tilting their glasses back, drinking and drinking until Eist let up with a gasp. For once, her belly felt warm and a slight bit of ease washed over her.

  If drinking would help her through the lonely nights, then she was plenty fine with that.

  3

  Not a Substitute

  “Whoa, are you sure you’re okay?” Ale’a asked as Eist tottered slightly, holding onto one of Fior’s tines to keep her balance.

  “I’m fine,” Eist retorted blithely. “I’m just tipsy and feeling good. Which is nice, ya know, because usually I feel so bad.”

  “Uh-huh. That sounds about right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be so friendly to anyone outside of your little circle before.”

  “It was nice.” Eist blinked and looked around at her surroundings. Night had long since fallen and once the group called it quits, Ale’a had offered to make sure she got back to her room safe. Eist didn’t mind, nor did she take offense. She appreciated that she had the strong woman to take care of her for the short stroll. While she wasn’t intoxicated off her rocker like Valcrest, she probably wouldn’t fare that great in a fight. And considering the times they lived in…well, a moment of weakness could really end everything, couldn’t it?

  How depressing.

  They reached her door far too soon, and she knew exactly what was waiting for her behind it.

  “You alright?” Ale’a asked. Either the woman was incredibly perceptive when she was tipsy or Eist was showing her inner turmoil way more than she had any right to.

  “Yeah, just thinking of how weird it is to try to get back into routine here knowing what’s really going on in the outside world.”

  “I suppose there is a bit of a dissonance there, isn’t it?”

  Eist nodded. “But I’ll get over it. Besides, I’ve got Fior to cuddle all night, so I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure? You two could come crash at my place. I have one of the larger professor rooms since I basically live here, so you and Fior would fit.”

  “No, it’s fine, really. I just need to sleep off this nice feeling.”

  “Alright then, if you say so. I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll actually work on that terrible form of yours.”

  “Whatever you say, pretty lady.” Eist giggled at that. She never called anyone pretty, but it felt right for Ale’a. The woman was so beautiful! Did she even know? Not that it mattered. Being pretty only helped occasionally in battle. Oh wait… Was she saying all of that out loud?

  “Hah, flatterer. Good night, little rider.” The woman bent down and placed a kind kiss on the top of Eist’s head and then Fior’s before striding off. Eist watched her go, admiring her muscles, and her form, and just her general being-ness before fumbling with her door.

  She made it inside eventually and went right to her cot, flopping face-first. In the time that they had returned to the academy and she’d found out that Dille wouldn’t be rooming with her much anymore, she’d taken her friend’s cot and pushed up against her own to make a bed big enough for Fior to rest his shovel-like head against her body. It kept her warm, and she liked to think it prevented her normal nightmares from slipping in as often, or for as long.

  But occasionally those dark scenes would still make their way into her sleep. She’d had Yacrist yanked from
her arms too many times to count. Or he’d been sinking into darkness and as hard as she tried to run to him, she never actually got any closer. Or she’d be blind and he would call for her help, causing her to stumble around frantically in her sightlessness without ever reaching him.

  Ugh, why was she thinking about her nightmares? They were just so sad.

  She was pathetic, wasn’t she? Tipsy and sobbing and whining about dreams. And she was the one who was supposed to banish the Blight? Hah, she probably couldn’t even figure out how to get herself out of her own clothes at the moment.

  Actually, that was a good idea.

  Her clothes were so restrictive. Uncomfy. Who had made them? Because boo, they were terrible. Itchy.

  Itchy?

  Yeah. Itchy. And hot. Gross.

  Tossing and turning, she wiggled out of her breeches, then her tunic. Reaching toward the chest she kept her clothes, she pulled out a nightshirt. When she yanked it over her head, it went much too easily, and the collar ended up hanging below her collar bone.

  Eist blinked at the material, looking at sleeves that were far too long and how the bottom of the shirt went below her mid-thigh. She wouldn’t even need to wear her normal cotton sleep breeches to have all of her private bits covered. But that didn’t make sense. Why was her shirt so big?

  Oh.

  Right.

  It wasn’t hers.

  Eist clutched the fabric to herself, feeling how high quality and well-made it was compared to own clothing. It was one of Yacrist’s shirts that he had left behind after one of the many times he, Dille, and her had spent the entire night studying and then talking.

  She could still smell him on the fibers, and that scent unlocked a thousand different memories all at once. How uncertain she had been of him at first. How hard he had fought to try to get to her in that wagon when Fior had been dragon-napped. The way he used to steal things from her plate. The way he had run to the healers for supplies when Eist and Dille had their monthlies at the same time and ran out of what they needed. The way he looked at her.

  By the Three, he had really loved her… hadn’t he? Had he? Eist couldn’t think straight about it. Sometimes his affection did feel too possessive, too much for her when she wasn’t ready, but what if that was what love was supposed to be?

  She didn’t know. She always had assumed things like that weren’t for her. She was short, fat, and full of muscle. She could only hear about a third of the time and her witch’s eyes—while less unsettling than they had been—still could make people wary. Her nose was too large for her face and her eyes too wide. Her lips weren’t full and beautiful like Dille’s, and her personality certainly was no saving grace. She was utterly undesirable in every way.

  But Yacrist had seemed to want her.

  How?

  He was so…so handsome. And charismatic. Everyone loved him. So many wanted him. But he had wanted her. Had she wasted it? Was she stupid?

  Eist groaned and face-planted back in her bed, tears welling up. She was dumb. So dumb. All the dumb.

  By the Three, she could use another drink.

  Yeah, that was a good idea. A drink.

  Valcrest said a drink would work until she knew what to do, and at the moment, she didn’t think she had ever known less about what she was meant to do.

  Stumbling to her feet, she swayed. Fior let out a chirp, looking at her curiously, but Eist shook her head.

  “Don’t worry, little one. I’m just going to relieve myself. You just stay here and rest, okay? You work so hard, you know that, right? My baby boy. My warrior.” She pressed her face to the top of his head and nuzzled it for several moments before standing. “You just go right to sleep, okay? You gotta rest because I love you. I love you, like, so much.” She giggled at that while Fior gave her quite the concerned look. She was being silly, but goodness, if being silly didn’t feel so good. Silly was better than mourning. Or planning. Or fighting even. And Eist had thought she loved fighting.

  Turned out that she only loved fighting if none of her friends were hurt.

  Eist shut her door and looked down the hall. Her vision was clearing and that pleasant effervescence inside was just beginning to fade. She wanted to hold onto the light feeling. It made her feel like there was so much less on her shoulders. Not like she would fail at any moment and ruin her entire world.

  Ugh.

  So serious.

  She was tired of being serious.

  Pointing herself in the direction that she was pretty sure she had come from, she tottered down the hall. She made it to the stairs, then down them, before a wave of dizziness washed over her.

  Oh dear.

  Was this what drinking-sickness felt like? She’d never had more than a cup of mead with dinner in the cafeteria, but she’d downed at least six of them with Valcrest over the hours that she had been with Ale’a and her friends. That was a lot.

  Was it? It was over a grea— Another wave of dizziness. Okay, yeah, it was probably a lot. And yet Eist didn’t feel drunk. Not like Valcrest seemed to be. She felt like she was just gently floating at the very tip between being herself and being someone else who felt a whole lot nicer.

  …ugh. Nicer, but also a bit more nauseous.

  “Hey, are you a-alright?”

  Eist looked up from her knees to see Athar standing there, looking down at her with concern. Because of course it was him. And goodness. His face. What right did he have to wear a look like that on his big, handsome face? She felt like he was looking right through her soul.

  What was that that Ain was always saying? Something about a love triangle? Or her stealing his best friend? Was that why he was looking at her like that?

  Before she really thought it over, Eist lifted her arms to him. By the Three, he was just so big. How did he get so big?

  “I may have drank too much,” she said with what she hoped was a wry grin. Her face felt warm. Were her cheeks pink? She was willing to bet they were. How embarrassing.

  Athar seemed to understand her unspoken request instantly, lifting her up into a gentle carry. Geez, she weighed nothing to him, didn’t she?

  “You hold on. I’ll get you to your room.”

  “No!” Eist objected much more loudly than she should have. She could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment as Athar looked down at her with surprise, but she pushed through. “I, uh, I really don’t want to be alone for right now. Is that okay?”

  “I…” Athar swallowed, as if he was trying to steady his words. And knowing him, he absolutely was. “I understand. Cafeteria?”

  Eist shook her head. “Just take me to your and Ain’s dorm. I need friends.”

  He nodded and then they were lumbering away. Eist had assumed the rocking motion of his movements would make her nausea worse, but instead, it seemed to settle her stomach. Or maybe it was just the press of his strong body into hers. He was warm. So warm. It was nice. Almost as nice as being tipsy.

  Once more, they reached his door much faster than they had any right to. Was it because his legs were just so long or was it because she was starting to get lulled into a comfortable sleep?

  “Are you sure you want to come h-here? Students aren’t s-s-supposed to mix—”

  “Athar, we’ve literally used forbidden magic and fought against the great and terrible Blight. Who cares if we cohabitate for a minute?”

  He nodded and set her down, moving to fiddle with the door and then swing it open. Eist hurried forward, hoping for a cool breeze from their balcony for her burning face, but she stopped short when she realized no one was there.

  “What’s wr—” Athar stopped short when he stepped into the room and realized the issue too. “Oh. Ain is s-s-s-supposed to be h-here.”

  “Huh,” Eist said with a shrug before throwing herself on the closest cot. “That’s alright. Just you can keep me company then.”

  “I’m not s-sure, I, uh, s-shouldn’t—”

  Eist knew that tone just like she knew the adorably embarrassed
expression on his face. Sitting up, she scooted her butt back on the mattress until her back was comfortably pressed against the wall. It was just like how her and Yacrist used to sit when they read, and that thought made her mood dip considerably.

  “H-hey, what’s wrong?”

  Huh. She really was terrible at masking any emotions when she was a little inebriated. Good to know.

  “Nothing,” she said on impulse before realizing that if there was anyone she trusted enough to be weak in front of, it was Athar. He was always concerned for her wellbeing, even before they were friends. He had stood up for her when she very easily could have been kicked out of the academy.

  He stood between her and Yacrist when he thought she was in danger.

  Her face crumpled at that and suddenly it was in her hands as sobs rocked her body. Athar was to her in a moment, sitting beside her and curling her form into his side. Eist shifted onto her hip, crying into one of his ridiculous pectorals, comforted by his strong arm cradling her back.

  By the Three, sobbing was so humiliating, but she couldn’t stop. It was like a floodgate had been opened inside of her and now she was an open wound, raw and throbbing.

  “It’s alright,” Athar soothed, his low voice more of a rumble that she could feel than hear. “Just le-let it all out. You don’t have t-t-to hold all of th-that in.”

  “Yes, I do,” Eist somehow managed to get out between peals of sadness. All-Mother’s mercy, her eyes burned. And her throat hurt. And everything was just so unpleasant. Where was her happy floating feeling from just a few moments ago? She wanted that back. That was nice.

  Didn’t she deserve a little bit of nice?

  “I have to be strong,” she continued, not looking up from his wonderfully-supportive barrel of a chest. “I have to.”

  “You are st-strong, Eist. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

  She snorted. It was an especially wet sound considering all of her tears, but she didn’t care. “You are literally a mountain of muscles. A monument of muscles. A m… A m… A whole lot of muscles.”