Thread of Darkness

Ch. 37: my name is Kane Hillsbrook

Still.

She wasn't sure if Flint had told his parents that she knew about Rourke, and it didn't seem appropriate to say anything. So Seraena merely inclined her head.

"I'll see you at the race," she said.

Celeste's smile looked a little sad. "It was nice to meet you, Seraena."

She followed the dirt path out of Drios. The scent of sea and purple wildflowers grew stronger as she approached the salt caves; Kyllini circled overhead, casting dark shadows over the patchy grass. The dragon landed with a thud, and then a wet tongue licked up her back. Seraena frowned.

"Gross, Kyllini," she muttered.

Her mount gave a smug little smile.

Kyllini was still prancing behind her as Seraena ducked into the caves, making for the lowest floor. The scent of brine grew stronger, the worn rock more cramped and suffocating. She was sweating slightly as she emerged into a small cave.

Flint was brushing down Hellart's scales, his blond hair glistening in the dim light. His cheeks were chapped with wind, his black jacket rolled up at the sleeves. Hellart lounged on the floor, a mighty paw tucked under his chin. Purring rumbled through the cave.

"Seraena."

Flint didn't look surprised to see her; merely wary. She settled on a boulder.

"Good flight, then?" she asked.

His voice was brusque. "Fine, thanks."

An awkward silence fell. Seraena crossed her legs, watching as Kyllini nipped playfully at Hellart's tail, much to the other dragon's chagrin. She tapped her fingernails on her knee. How to proceed?

Oh, screw it.

She'd just cut to the chase.

"You never apologized," Seraena said. "For the other day."

Flint resumed brushing. "That's because I'm not sorry."

"For insulting me?"

"For kissing you." His mouth curved. "I could never be sorry about that."

Surprise rippled through her, followed by a bone-deep fury. How dare he? How dare he flirt with her after what he said to her in that pool? He wasn't getting off that easy. Not at all. Her fingers tightened on her trousers.

"Screw you, Flint."

"You're angry," he observed.

She picked at her nails. "Obviously."

"You were right, you know." He wasn't facing her. "When you said that I'm hiding something. I am hiding something from you."

She stilled. "What are you talking about?"

"Exactly that," Flint said. "I've been lying to you, Seraena."

Her pulse picked up. The cave suddenly seemed too small, too hot. Cold fear crept over her skin, and she had the horrifying thought that if she called for help, nobody would hear her. But Flint wouldn't hurt her, would he?

She licked her lips. "What do you mean?"

His smile was wry. "My name isn't Flint."

"But everyone calls you that."

Mack. Alfie. The race officials. Hell, even his own parents had called him Flint, hadn't they? He set down the brush, turning to face her. He seemed to be bracing himself for something, she realized, her neck prickling. Something unpleasant.