Chapter 8

Islept in the next day, and it was only after I'd stumbled down to the ground floor for breakfast that I realized why: my magic was barely prickling because someone had cleaned the entryway and hall. The cobwebs had been knocked down, and the floors no longer sported muddy tracks.

In fact, the whole ground floor felt cleaner than it had yesterday. The house's magical chord was much closer to harmonious, and I no longer had to work so hard to block it out.

Baldric wasn't in the kitchen, but he'd left a plate of muffins on the table. I ate a quick breakfast then returned to the second floor. A few doors were locked, but surprisingly, Baldric's room wasn't one of them.

I knocked loudly, twice. When no one answered, I cracked the door open, then swung it wider when there was no objection from inside. Like his study, the room was bright and airy and warmer than the hallway.

It was also fairly clean. I called the remaining dust and grime into the hallway with a small pulse of magic, then did a final visual sweep to ensure I hadn't missed anything.

Most of the furniture was pale gray wood, with the exception of the massive bed that appeared to be carved from a solid block of gray and white stone. Almost without thought, I moved closer, drawn.

The sculptor must have been incredible. Mythical creatures were carved into the four posts, and each culminated with a dragon perched on top. The skill was such that I expected the little dragons to take flight at any moment.

I heard footsteps a moment before Baldric asked, "Do you like it?"

"It's magnificent. How did you get it up here?"

"Carefully," he said with a laugh.

I finally turned my attention away from the bed and blinked in surprise. Baldric was wearing a shirt and trousers made from rough, homespun fabric. He had cobwebs in his hair and a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

"You've been cleaning." My voice came out more accusatory than I'd intended.

"And you slept in."

I bristled. "I never agreed to get up at dawn every day—"

"That wasn't an accusation," Baldric interrupted. "I'm happy you slept in. It means your magic wasn't bothering you, and you needed the rest."

I blinked at him. "You cleaned so I would sleep?"

"I didn't realize it was bothering you so much or I would've done it sooner," he said stiffly.

Warmth filled my chest. "Thank you." I grinned at him. "But I'm still keeping all the money."

His amused chuckle followed me into the hall.

* * *

By the endof the first week, the house was clean, my magic was content, and I'd lost a dozen matches of Knights Bandits without a single win. The losses pricked my pride, but I was improving, albeit slowly. Baldric's tactics were icy and efficient, much like the man himself, but they were learnable. In another week, I might actually win a match.

Especially if I went home and retrieved the one low-cut dress I owned.

Baldric had ignored all of my increasingly less subtle attempts at flirtation, much to my eternal frustration, but I could feel his eyes watching me when my back was turned. He wasn't as unaffected as he liked to pretend.

As much as I didn't want to trek through the snow for hours again, I did need to go check on my cottage, so I rose with the sun and dressed warmly. Low clouds were threatening the horizon, but if I moved fast, I could make it home and back before they arrived.

Baldric wasn't in the kitchen when I arrived, so I helped myself to a quick breakfast and a cup of hot tea. I lingered longer than I normally would've, but Baldric still didn't appear. He wasn't in his study, either.

I paused, torn. I'd like to let him know that I was leaving for the day, but waiting meant pushing my trip back, and I didn't relish the thought of trekking through the woods in the dark.

I tentatively tried one of the drawers in his desk. It slid open easily, but there wasn't any paper inside—at least, not any loose paper, and I certainly wasn't going to open one of the ledgers to look for some.

I finally found a stack of loose sheets in the third drawer. I took one out and carefully tore it in half, then wrote a quick note explaining my trip. I left the note on the kitchen table where he'd be sure to find it, then I let myself out into the cold morning air.

* * *

My neighbors werehappy to see me, and even happier that I'd found a job that paid well. The landlord hadn't tried to evict me while I was gone, and my cottage was just as I'd left it. I packed a few more clothes, then stealthily magicked away the dust that had accumulated over the last week.

By the time I was ready to return to Baldric's manor, the clouds were looming closer, and I eyed them warily. They were heavy and dark, promising a storm. I didn't want to get caught out in the open, but if I stayed in the village tonight, then I'd have to trek through even deeper snow tomorrow.

And my absence would likely worry Baldric.

I glanced at the clouds again. They hadn't moved. If I hurried, I should be able to make it before the storm hit, and then I'd get to curl up with a cozy fire—and, if I played my cards right, Baldric.

With the thought of warm fires and low-cut dresses in mind, I set off. The path out of the village was easy enough to follow, but soon the snow deepened. Luckily, I'd broken the trail on my way to town earlier, so I could follow my own footprints back.

I made good time, but the clouds made better time. I was a little more than halfway to the manor when the wind picked up. It sliced through my cloak and chilled my skin. My teeth started chattering, but I pressed onward.

Baldric would insist I drink some hot tea when I arrived, and that would warm me up. I just had to keep going.

But a few minutes later, as if mocking my desire for warmth, the sky opened up. I'd expected snow, which would've been inconvenient but manageable. Instead, I got freezing rain.

I was soaked to the bone in a matter of minutes. I pushed myself faster. This weather was a death sentence, and I refused to die after finding a tiny piece of contentment—the universe didn't get to be that cruel.

I squinted at the path. The wind and rain were making it harder to follow the trail I'd left earlier, and while sunset was still hours away, the storm had brought a false dusk that made it difficult to see.

The manor was closer than the village. I stumbled onward, determined to find it.

But despite my determination, the icy rain sapped my strength and numbed my limbs. The fifth time I fell, I could barely force myself to stand. I laughed with bitter resignation. It seemed the universe would get to be that cruel after all.

When a hazy, cloaked figure emerged from the gloom, I squinted. Who would possibly be out in this weather? The icy rain beaded off the figure's expensive oilskin cloak, and resentful enviousness nipped at me. I would've made it if my cloak had stopped the rain.

I rested a hand on my rapier's pommel, only to frown when I realized I couldn't really feel it. My fingers were numb, and if this turned out to be a bandit, I'd have precious little defense.

Of course, what kind of bandit decided to rob people in the middle of a freezing rain storm?

That puzzle distracted me long enough for the figure to close the distance between us. I shouldn't have let them get so close, but my thoughts were slow and thick and scattered.

The cloak's hood tipped back and Baldric's scowl arrowed into me, angrier than I'd ever seen it. Why was he out in this storm?

"Am I close to the manor?" I asked.

"Not close enough." He shrugged off his cloak and flinched as the icy rain drenched him.

The action was strange enough to shock me out of the hazy half consciousness I'd been slipping into. "Don't you have any sense?" I demanded, reaching for the oilskin. "You'll die like that!" I smacked his hands away, then draped the thick cloth over his head and shoulders.

I pulled him closer, trying to clasp the cloak closed before he got any wetter, but my mitten-covered fingers were too stiff to work the toggles.

Baldric stared at me, his pale blue eyes as icy as the weather around us. "I was going to give it to you."

"I appreciate the thought, but it wouldn't help if we're not close to the manor. I'm already drenched." I looked over his shoulder. "Where's your horse?"

"Horses don't like me."

I blinked, thrown. "Then how'd you get out here? Surely you didn't walk out in the middle of a storm."

He shook his head. "I flew."

That didn't make any sense. I poked him, and he felt real enough, but I wasn't exactly in the best state to judge.

His eyebrows drew together. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to decide if you're real," I told him. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. If you flew here, then fly on home before you catch your death."

"Can you ride?"

I stared up at him and blinked the rain from my eyes. "I thought horses didn't like you."

"I suppose not," he murmured. He sighed, then spun the oilskin off his shoulders again and wrapped it around me before I could protest. "Don't move."

"You sure are bossy," I grumbled. "I should've imagined someone nicer."

He didn't bother with a response. He stepped back and bright light flickered through the gloom. When I could see again, a huge, pale blue dragon was crouched where Baldric had been.

Huh.

Now we were getting somewhere. I probably should've been worried that my brain was far enough gone that it had started imagining mythical creatures, but I couldn't be bothered. An interesting death was better than a lonely one.

I stepped forward and the dragon rumbled at me. "Shush. I've never petted a dragon, even an imaginary one, so I'm going to do that before I die." Belatedly, I tacked on, "If you don't mind."

The rumbling ceased, so I took that as permission and pressed a hand against the dragon's scaly blue side. After a moment, warmth bled through my soaked mittens. The scales were warm, even in the icy rain, and denser than stone. I leaned against them and willed the warmth to transfer faster. I'd read somewhere that people freezing to death often felt warm right at the end, so I guess my time was about up.

What a whimsical way to go.

Then the dragon moved and the cold rushed back in. I grumbled in annoyance, but the grumble turned into an alarmed shout when one clawed foot wrapped tight around my body. Being eaten alive was definitely less pleasant that freezing to death.

I struggled, but I couldn't escape its clutch, and the effort cost most of my remaining energy. Adrenaline could only do so much, and the cold was winning.

The claws flexed around me, as if ensuring I was truly caught. They weren't crushing, but they weren't exactly comfortable, either. Before I could figure out how to break free, the dragon launched itself into the air, and my stomach dropped to the rapidly disappearing ground.