The Dragon's Match

XVII

She shook her head, her gaze locked onto the innocuous action of his hand surrounding hers. Her flesh seemed pale in comparison to his, her wrists so slender the bones were prominent against her pale skin. "Let me tell you of the Lightning Plains, as it was here where I... where I was not certain if I would survive, even if I was to somehow be released from captivity."

"The Lightning Plains," Aëghan repeated, his voice a soft murmur of speculation. "I have not heard of this place."

"I know not of what it is called in your tongue," she admitted. "It is what I call it. If you like... I can recall cartography sketches from my time at the court. It'll be from memory, so the accuracy will not be exact, but I could depict what I remember-"

His fingers squeezed around hers, quelling her words. The lines of his face were hard, calm, yet something shone deep from within his gaze, something she couldn't name. "I will never forget what you have offered," Aëghan said softly, "or what it would cost you to do so, but I will not ask it of you, or allow it, when there are depictions of it that exist already."

His words provoked a memory, stirring within her from one of their very first encounters when he came upon her after she had first acquired the mark- all of three days prior. Had it really been so short a time between now and then, when everything about Aëghan seemed so very ingrained into her that it felt as if she had known him for much longer? "I believe I am indebted to you, and still owe you a favour- for covering the magic of the mark." As if in response, the band about her upper arm gave a painful burn, as if flaring to life.

"Consider what you reveal to me now what is owed." Again, he squeezed her fingers.

His gentleness, his gestures of consolations, were at odds with her initial depiction of the Dravolese, and Lillian found herself frowning for it. There was something unfurling over her heart, warm and enveloping, but she could not acknowledge it.

Would not name it for what it was.

She dragged her gaze away from their interlocked fingers, knowing she should retract from his touch, yet she couldn't- not when a storm raged on about her and the only source of comfort was from the male beside her.

"That is... acceptable." She found his face, his gaze yet unremoved from her. "Thank you."

His smile was devoid of his normal wry humour, and even though it was small, the sincerity of it made her very aware that she was finding him more likable by the minute. She lurched her thoughts away from that disturbing notion, instead focusing on the topic at hand. Immediately, she felt the dread suffuse her limbs, a mild panic root deep within her flesh, exacerbated by the weather, but she grit her teeth against it, refusing to be cowed.

"I was taken to The Lightning Plains after I was captured," she began again, "and lowered into a pit. At first, I was blindfolded so I did not know where I was, or what was around me, but when I was able to remove the blindfold I found myself in a... hole. Some sort of deep cavern, with walls that were polished slate of a black so encompassing it felt depthless and stark. There was a low enclave carved into the bottom which I learnt later was for some protection and sleep. Other than that... there was nothing else in the pit." Her hands began to shake fervently and she clenched them, one knotted around Aëghan's, one into the furs in her lap. She averted her gaze, finding unshed tears begin to prick at the corners. "I was not bound or restrained after being placed in the pit," she went on, her voice carrying a warble now, "and I found that odd, odder when I found a series of carved hand and toe holds that led out to the top of the pit. I did not tarry, believing this to be an easy escape, and I was quick to scale the wall, but... but what I saw-"

She found her voice lodged in her throat, the memory of the starkness so vivid she felt paralysed for it, as if she were thrust back into that pit and had just hauled her torso over the abrasive edge at the top. A dry wind had whipped her hair over her face, bringing with it the stinging bite of grit and a substance that felt like shards of glass as it corroded her heated skin. The plains were flat, and stretched on for what seemed like endless miles, all black and glistening with the unrelenting light and heat of the sun.