“I would be better off with your travel-cow leading the way.”

“No need to get nasty.” Celyn took the bundle of extra clothes he’d chosen for Elina from Lolly, then kissed the shopgirl on the cheek. “As always, Lolly, thank you for your help.”

“Of course.”

Celyn gestured to the still open front door. “Ready?” he asked Elina.

“I have been ready for hour. You waste my time.”

“You need to learn to relax.”

“Shut up.”

Celyn managed to wait until Elina brushed past him before he grinned. And that’s when Lolly grabbed hold of his arm.

“Lolly?” Celyn prompted when she said nothing.

“Be careful on your travels, Celyn.” She glanced at the door as if she expected to see someone listening to their conversation. “Things are different out there.”

“What brought this on?”

“The questions you were asking me earlier . . . I’m fine with those questions. We’ve known each other a long time. But there are some . . .” She again glanced at the front door. “Just be careful. I always enjoy your company, dear Celyn.”

“And I yours.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek again. “And thank you, old friend.”

Elina hated her new clothes, but only because she liked them so much. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had clothes that she hadn’t sewn herself from animals she’d hunted down on her own, or clothes that hadn’t been handed down to her by her older sisters.

Torn between wanting to tear the clothes off and wanting never to take them off, Elina began walking toward the big gates at the entrance to the town.

The dragon easily caught up to her with his long legs. “That’s strange,” he said softly.

Elina stopped immediately. “If you have problem with these clothes, Dolt, you should not have bought them for me.”

The dragon frowned, his head tipping to the side. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your clothes.”

“Then what was strange?”

“Lolly suddenly warning me about not asking too many questions while we’re traveling through the cities and towns on our route.”

Elina folded her arms over her chest. “By death, how much do you talk that even the shopgirls need to warn you to stop?”

The dragon glared at her. “I don’t talk that much, but I do ask questions. I listen to gossip.”

“If you need to believe that . . .”

“Are you done?”

“At the moment.”

“Anyway, I think we’ll need to be even more careful than I first thought.”

Elina started walking again, already bored by this conversation. “I am always careful.”

With two steps, the dragon was again by her side. “Even while welcoming your old friend death?”

“If you fear death, it will only come for you sooner. Why fear what is inevitable?”

“Every word you speak,” he announced, swinging his arm out, “like a ray of suns-shine!”

“At least I keep my words short, meaningful, and to point. Shopgirls do not tell me I need to keep quiet.”

“She did not tell me to keep quiet. Stop twisting this!”

“I twist nothing. I simply note.”

“Well, stop noting, and do me a favor.”

Elina stopped again and faced the dragon. “What favor?”

He glanced off, his lip curling in disgust. It lasted for several seconds before he finally said, “Just . . . if you notice I’m talking too much or someone seems particularly interested in what I’m asking about, let me know. That’s all. Just . . . have my back.”

“Have . . . back?”

“Have my back. Simply make sure that I don’t put me foot in it.”

“Foot?”

He rolled his eyes. “Gods, you’re literal. I mean make sure I don’t talk us into a bad situation.”

“Oh. Step on dick.”

His eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“When men do stupid thing . . . we say they step on dick.”

“That would imply an impressively sized dick.”

Elina smirked. “Rider women already took the balls, which makes the dick of men look that much longer.”

The dragon briefly closed his eyes, and he smiled. “Do you say that to the men of your tribes?”

She reached up to his wide shoulder and patted it. “We sew it on our pillows.”

Chuckling, Elina walked off, the dragon eventually catching up with her once more.

Chapter Fourteen

Brother Magnus, as he was known at the monastery of the Brotherhood of the Far Mountains, barely stifled a yawn of absolute and utter boredom. He hated this place. Always had. But he’d been dropped at the doorstep of the Brotherhood when he was barely two, and here was where he’d stayed.

It could have been worse, though. He could have been sold as slave labor to a farmer or a mine. At least with the Brotherhood, Magnus always had a full belly and a roof over his head. But at twenty-nine winters, he was beyond bored and it didn’t seem that anything would ever change that.

Magnus yawned again and wasn’t able to catch it in time. From across the study room, the Elder Brother glared at him, and with a nod, Magnus got up and walked out into the hallway. Perhaps some fresh air would help wake him up a bit . . . but he doubted it.

As he headed toward his cell, he heard a door open and watched one of the brothers slip out of a cell and head down the hall toward the back stairs.