The Draykon Series (1-3)

Chapter Twenty One

Panicked, Llandry knew she was losing the fight. Her attacker was strong, and he lifted her easily from the ground. Her arms were held fast in an iron grip and kicking proved futile. She took a breath, trying to calm her mind.

   Think, she admonished herself.

   She opened her wings, fast and with full force. A voice muttered a startled oath - a male voice, she noticed peripherally - and the grip on her body loosened. She struggled anew, twisting sinuously in the arms of her captor. Her diminutive size and lithe figure saved her: holding her captive became as difficult as restraining a cat. She slid out of the man's grasp and fell to the floor. She was up in an instant and aloft, her wings carrying her above the tree cover.

   Llandry flew fast and hard towards the food garden, landing amid the tables of the rooftop diners. She ran for the stairs, ignoring the exclamations and protests of the customers as her spread wings and tattered, flying cloak knocked dishes and glasses asunder.

   Devary stood up as she approached, his face registering alarm. 'Llandry? What happened?'

   'I went to the garden over there. Someone seized me. A man.'

   'Stay here.' Devary darted through the archway and ran for the trees. Llandry was momentarily tempted to follow him, but she reconsidered: her presence had already caused trouble. Instead she resumed her seat, adjusting her dishevelled hair and clothing as best she could.

   Indren Druaster was staring at her with none of her customary superiority.

   'Gracious,' she said faintly. 'I admit, I thought Mr. Kant exaggerated the danger that follows this trinket around.' Llandry ignored her, sitting in silence while Devary was gone, breathing deeply to calm her shakes.

   'They appear to be gone,' said Devary at last, approaching from behind her. 'But we should leave, now.'

   The return journey passed in a blur, conducted at a considerably faster pace than the journey out. Llandry rested her head against the cushions and closed her eyes, trying to still the whirling of her thoughts. Her hand was taken and held, gently and tenderly; she opened her eyes and turned her head, surprised. Devary's face was filled with concern, and the smile he offered her was half-hearted.

   'Poor Llandry,' he murmured.

   'I'm all right,' she said, suddenly uncomfortable. He nodded and opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted by the carriage slowing to a quick, jolting stop. He jumped up instantly and opened the door. Llandry saw that the vehicle had pulled up barely a few feet away from the door to the Silver Harp. Devary handed her down and ushered her into the porch.

   'Wait here a moment. Pull up your hood,' he instructed in a murmur. Puzzled, she obeyed, instinctively drawing the remains of her dark cloak over her clothes. He nodded approvingly.

   'I'm not leaving you here tonight; it isn't safe, even with a guard. But it must appear that you returned here.' He spoke in a low whisper, and she had to lean towards him to hear the words.

   'Where am I to go?'

   'I shall keep you with me. Now, back we go. Keep close to me. Under my cloak, now.' He held open the folds of his own voluminous cloak, and she tucked herself under its shadow. A few steps, cumbersome in this peculiar arrangement, and she was back inside the carriage with Devary beside her.

   Devary's dwelling was only a few minutes from the Harp. Llandry was relieved to see that Indren returned the wrapped pendant to Devary before he alighted. He turned as if to address a last few words to Indren, and Llandry slipped down, back into the enveloping folds of his cloak. She had time only to address a brief word of thanks to Indren, but she received in response a far kinder smile than the lady had offered her before. Then she was through a tall archway and a door was closing behind her, blocking out the sound of the carriage drawing away.