Fuse by E.L. Todd

Thirteen

When Cora wokeup the next morning, the sun was shining through the windows. It was the first time she’d woken up feeling refreshed in nearly a month. The sheets were soft against her skin, and her body was relaxed from the full night of rest she received.

She didn’t want to leave the bed.

After lying there for another half hour, she heard her stomach growl. Despite the feast she’d had the night before, she was still starving. Her body clearly hadn’t recovered from the state of perpetual hunger during her journey.

She took a bath in the washtub with fresh water she’d found outside the door, then sat at the vanity and fixed her hair. The second she looked at her face, she noticed the slight differences. Her cheeks were more hollow and her neck more slender. The journey had taken body mass that she didn’t have to spare to begin with. Her face was weathered and her skin more pigmented. Since discovering she was part elf, she hadn’t examined her reflection. Now, she studied the shape of her eyes and the softness of her mouth.

Was it really that obvious?

She combed her hair and dried it with her fingers before venturing downstairs. Hopefully, breakfast would be on the table with some coffee. Having a proper meal was something she’d taken for granted when she was fleeing the Shamans.

She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

When she walked into the kitchen, Bridge and Flare were already there. An aged map was spread across the table, the corners frayed from years of use. They were both examining it quietly, their scotches replaced by a morning brew of coffee.

“Morning.” She grabbed a plate and piled it with spiced ham, toast, and eggs.

Flare gave her a slight nod while his eyes remained glued to the map.

Bridge acted like he hadn’t heard her at all.

Cora took a seat at the table and dug into her meal.

“Don’t eat like a pig again.” Flare grabbed the map and pulled it away from her side of the table. “We can’t damage this.”

“Go to hell.” She sipped her coffee and devoured her eggs.

Bridge was absorbed in his work, ignoring his breakfast and coffee. “I don’t have a clue, man. It should be here.”

“It should…” Flare rubbed his chin, his features tense with concentration.

“What are you looking for?” Cora continued to ask questions even though she never got answers. They were bound to give up their secrets eventually.

“A place.” Flare sipped his coffee before he returned it to the table.

“What place?” She ate much slower than last time, feeling famished but not starved.

“An important place.” Bridge ran his fingers through his light brown hair. “Which doesn’t seem to exist…”

“Maybe it doesn’t.” Flare finally looked up from the map, his eyes falling on Cora. They were glued to her face for a moment, noting the change of her hair and her new clothes.

“Don’t say that.” Bridge released a depressed sigh. “We can’t afford that.”

Being ignored was getting old. “If you included me, I might be able to help.”

“Doubtful.” Flare kept staring at her.

She grew tired of his unblinking stare. Most of the time, he ignored her, but now, he studied her more intently than the map. “What?”

“What?” His word echoed back at her.

“You keep staring at me.” Her fork was in her grasp, but she didn’t take a bite. “Do I have something on my face?”

Without answering, he looked away.

Bridge glanced at Flare before he examined the map again.

Silence ensued.

She was treated as an outsider, even though she’d proved herself to Flare multiple times. Her impatience was getting the best of her. “Then I’ll just sit here and blindly follow orders when they are given.”

Flare gave her a thumbs-up. “Perfect.”

Her anger overcame her, and she chucked her piece of toast at him. “Note the sarcasm.”

Flare caught the bread in his fingers then took a bite. “Duly noted.”

She sank into her chair and released an irritated sigh. “You’re unbearable.”

“I get that a lot.” Flare pointed to an island a short distance off the coast of Anastille. “What about here?”

“Slave labor camp.” Bridge dismissed the idea like he’d already considered it himself.

Cora’s eyes moved to the island Flare had just pointed to. “Slave labor camp?”

“The land is rich in gems.” Flare leaned over the table as he searched for another location. “The slaves dig them from the earth before they’re deported back to Anastille. It’s High Castle’s main source of revenue.”

It was one of the most disturbing things Cora had ever heard. “So, those slaves live there and work around the clock?”

“Yep.” Bridge’s voice didn’t possess any sympathy. “It’s been going on for hundreds of years.”

Cora shook her head slightly, even though no one was looking at her. Now she understood why the elves went into hiding. Why would they want to live among humans, an innately selfish and despicable species?

“I don’t see any possibilities.” Flare leaned back in his chair and severed his focus from the map. “Maybe it really is just a myth, a story to lighten hearts on a particularly miserable day.”

“I don’t know…” Bridge pulled his gaze away from the map. “There’s never been any sign of Aiken, living or dead. We would have heard something by now.”

“True.” Flare nodded in agreement.

“Who’s Aiken?” Cora wasn’t sure if she should even bother asking questions anymore.

Bridge eyed Flare, sympathy in his expression. “We can’t keep her in the dark about everything.”

“Thank you.” Cora slammed her fist against the table. “About time someone said it.”

Flare’s reaction didn’t change. “No.”

“No?” Cora was approaching a meltdown. She was about to destroy everything in that kitchen, including the two of them. Unsure what lay in the outside world, she’d rather stick with Flare. But if she was going to be treated like a criminal every step of the way, then it wasn’t worth it.

She jumped to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve been nothing but a trusted ally. The only reason I got mixed up with the guards in Polox was because I was trying to get you a healing potion. I’ve proven myself time and time again. If you’re going to continue to ostracize me, then there’s no reason for me to be here.” She stormed off and headed to the doorway.

Flare wore a blank expression, like he didn’t believe her charade was true.

She was about to prove just how wrong he was. “Good luck to you and all your endeavors. I sincerely hope we don’t meet again.” She marched up the stairs and gathered her pack and supplies. Her sword leaned against the wall in the corner. It was the most powerful blade she would ever possess, but it felt wrong to take it, especially when it was made of Flare’s scales. Even though it left her feeling ill, she abandoned it and headed to the door.

Neither of the men came after her, and that was perfectly fine with her. She was tired of being treated like a child, when Flare knew exactly how valuable she was. She left the house and slammed the door behind her.

The sky was dark with heavy rain clouds. A storm was coming in and would undoubtedly be a strong one. In the wilderness, she would be soaked to the bone and freezing cold.

But that was better than staying there.

She pulled up her hood then headed to the gate. She hadn’t taken ten steps before a firm hand pulled her back.

“Get your ass back inside.” Flare’s hood was pulled up, but his face was still visible up close.

“Am I your prisoner?”

“No.”

“Then let me go.” She twisted from his grasp and stepped away.

Flare grabbed her again. “Fine. You win.”

“Win what, exactly?”

His face was contorted in a look of pure irritation. Admitting defeat wasn’t easy for him, especially when a woman bested him. “I will include you from now on.”

“No more secrets?”

He clenched his jaw.

“No more secrets, or I’m gone.”

“I’ll tell you most of my secrets—but not all of them. That’s the best I can give you.” His eyes burned with their usual intensity, and the truth rang loud like a bell. This was the best offer he would make. If she didn’t take it, he would let her go.

She wanted more than that, to be treated as a partner the way he treated Bridge. But she was only going to get so much from this man. Some secrets were fine. She had a few of her own. How could she expect him to give more than she was willing to give herself? “Deal.”

* * *

Flare poured a glass of scotch then slid it across the table toward her.

She eyed the glass before she brought it to her lips and took a drink.

“According to legend, myth, folklore—whatever—the remaining free dragons fled Anastille before they could be enslaved. It’s unclear where they went, but it must be a distant island. The only other possibility is with the elves, but that seems farfetched. The elves wouldn’t grant them asylum, not when their own lives are on the line.” Flare held her gaze as he spoke, his glass resting in his fingers.

Despite her calm face, her heart was beating painfully hard. “What about the dwarves? Could they have gone with them?”

“Underground?” Bridge didn’t hide his incredulity. “Unlikely.”

“Why?” What was so obvious to him but not to her?

“Dragons have a difficult time getting around as it is.” Flare’s voice didn’t contain the same arrogance as it had before. He was talking to her in a different way, treating her as an equal for once. “It’s unlikely they could venture underground and live among dwarves. Also, dragons hate being underground. They need to be as close to the open sky as possible—trust me on that one.”

Now that she knew the reason, she realized how stupid her guess was. “Makes sense. But how sure are you the dragons escaped to an island?”

“Not sure at all,” Bridge answered. “There’s no way to know.”

Flare took over. “The only evidence we have is Aiken. No one can recount what happened to him. His body was never recovered, and as far as anyone knows, he never fused with a human—no matter how much they tortured him. He was one of the few dragons who was strong enough to resist dark magic.”

So, there was hope. “What do you think, Flare?”

“What I think is irrelevant.” Flare took a drink of his scotch and closed his eyes as it moved down his throat.

“But as a dragon, you must have some kind of opinion.” Cora didn’t understand the full effects of fusing with a dragon, but she could only assume his intuition and intelligence were heightened.

Flare’s face relaxed as he considered the question. He became quiet, his fingertips resting on his lips. “As a man, I have no inclination either way. Humans tend to make up stories to comfort themselves in times of trial, so these assumptions aren’t valid in my eyes. However, the dragon has a different opinion. Knowing Aiken himself, he believes these stories are true.”

Her heart thudded against her rib cage with every beat. “Really?”

“That’s his opinion.” Flare spoke without an ounce of emotion. “And I trust what he says.”

“That’s great.” Her heart did the talking while her mind took a rest. “That means there is hope. If we can find these dragons, we could have an army to take down King Lux.”

“Not so fast.” Flare held up a finger. “First, we have to figure out where they are. The ocean is a big place.”

“But we know it’s within flying distance.” Cora knew dragons were strong and could travel for leagues, but they couldn’t go on forever. “So, it can’t be that far away.”

Flare chuckled. “You don’t understand just how far dragons can travel. Keep in mind, if I don’t find the island, I have to turn back…and I doubt I could travel that entire distance without stopping.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “We could take a ship.”

“The only ships available are at the harbors. Guards are watching them, and it wouldn’t be an easy task to steal one. Besides, even if we were successful, they would just chase us down and sink our ship.” Bridge grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass.

“Talk about a mood kill…” Cora took a drink.

“I’ve got to be the voice of reason.” Bridge eyed Flare. “It’s saved his life a few times.”

“Well…what should we do?” She asked the question hesitantly because she suspected there wasn’t an answer.

Flare rubbed the scruff of his chin before he spoke. “For argument’s sake, even if we do find this island and there are enough dragons there that we can somehow convince to fly back to Anastille to help us win back the throne, that still wouldn’t be enough. We’d need soldiers, an uprising.”

“Wouldn’t people volunteer immediately?” Cora knew she would.

“Unlikely,” Bridge said. “If they speak out in opposition to the king, they’re risking their lives and their families.”

She hadn’t thought of that either. “Oh…”

“We need more bodies, but it’s not clear where to get them.” Flare held the glass by the rim and swirled the scotch.

A thought came to her. “What about the slaves? The ones on the island you mentioned? They’d probably jump at the opportunity to fight. They have nothing to lose.”

Flare’s expression softened as he stared at her. Like clouds parting the sky to reveal the sun, his approval shone through. “That’s not a bad idea.” He turned to Bridge. “What do you think of that?”

“Not bad at all.” Bridge looked at her in a new way.

“Would the dwarves help us? What about the elves?” If they had a chance to rid the evil humans from the land, surely they’d take it.

“No,” Flare said with a sigh. “We’re on our own.”

“The dwarves would never leave their caves,” Bridge said. “And the elves will never leave their magical fortress.”

“How do you know?” Cora might be ignorant, but if there was even a small chance, they had to try. “Have you ever asked?”

Flare returned his glass to the table. “No. But it would be a waste of time.”

“You don’t know that.” How long had it been since humans communicated with the elves? A lot could change in hundreds of years. “I say we give it a shot.”

“They won’t speak to us.” Bridge shook his head. “They hate humans.” He nodded to Flare. “And they hate dragons even more. There’s no way in hell they would even hear us out.”

Maybe they wouldn’t listen to a human or a dragon, but they might listen to someone of their own kind. “I could speak to them.”

“You?” Flare didn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “Why?”

“I’m half elf, remember?” She wasn’t full-blooded, but she was still their kin. If Flare took one look at her and recognized her bloodline, then the elves would realize the same thing. “It’s perfect.”

Bridge turned to Flare. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea at all. It is perfect, actually.”

Flare held his silence.

“All she has to do is speak to them,” Bridge said. “Maybe they’ll hear her out.”

His eyes swelled with darkness. “Or they’ll murder her right where she stands.”

Cora’s blood ran cold.

“Remember, she’s an abomination. She has a mixed bloodline.” Flare lowered his eyes to the surface of the table. “They might want to annihilate her so she can’t ever reproduce and continue this anomaly in their DNA.”

Cora swallowed the lump in her throat. “Would they do that?”

“I really don’t know,” Flare whispered. “But I can’t rule out the possibility.”

“I wasn’t aware they were such a violent species.” Whenever people spoke of them, they mentioned their grace and elegance, not their bloodshed.

“Well, they are.” Bitterness was in Flare’s voice. “While the dragons were being enslaved, they quickly turned their backs and fled into their hiding places. If you ask me, that’s just cowardly.”

Cora began to realize that Flare had a personal issue with the elves. Perhaps that was why he had been so cold toward her when they first met. Even now, he wasn’t exactly warm—and she was only half elf.

She could only deduce that Flare had been alive during that time. He’d witnessed the war himself. He spoke of those times like he was there. But that would have been 422 years ago. Could he really be that old?

Bridge picked up on the rising anger emitting from Flare. “Anyway… I think we should still consider it.”

“As do I.” Cora refused to believe any species would murder a harmless visitor on their doorstep. Maybe she was an idealist, but it didn’t seem practical. “I think we should find this island in the sea and enlist the help of the dragons. Then we should convince both the dwarves and the elves they should join this fight. Once we have those three things, we can rescue the slaves and any free people who may want to join us. Unless we have a formidable army marching behind us, people aren’t going to believe us.”

“But how do we expect the dwarves and elves to join us if we don’t have anyone besides the three of us?” Bridge picked up the bottle of scotch and realized it was already empty. “It’s a circle within a circle.”

“I don’t know. But we have to start somewhere.” If they did nothing, the Shamans would hunt her endlessly, the dragons would never have their freedom, and slavery would continue to be as common as the rising sun every morning. Something had to change—now.

Bridge ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. “Well, where do we start?”

Flare was no longer participating in the conversation. He was closed off and brooding in his own world.

“I think I should travel to the elves and ask for their help. Meanwhile, Flare should search for the island and speak to the dragons. Since he’s one of them, there’s a good chance they’ll listen—”

“Or think it’s a trap.” Flare finally spoke up but with a pessimistic attitude.

“Then make sure they know it’s not a trap.” They would accomplish nothing if they gave up before they started.

“You don’t understand dragons,” Flare said. “They’re irritable, stubborn, hostile—”

“They are just like you.” Cora gave him a deadpan look. “I know how they are.”

Flare clenched his jaw, his typical behavior when he was seething behind his eyes.

Cora ignored his look and continued. “And Bridge can stay here to gather news, or he can venture to the dwarves.”

Bride released an uncontrollable laugh. “Me? You think I should venture to the dwarves?”

“Why not?” As far as she could tell, he had a pair of legs and a voice. What more did he need?

“They wouldn’t hear me out, some ordinary human. They need an elf or a dragon.” Bridge retained his smile like the possibility still amused him. “Not some scholar. I’m more than willing to help but in a way that’s actually productive.”

“You’re a scholar?” Cora became intrigued. Now the maps and books throughout the house made more sense.

“Yes,” Bridge answered. “My job is to preserve history in its truest form. It sounds simple, but it’s really not. Separating fact from lore is actually very difficult.”

Would he know who her parents were? “I believe you.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be involved anyway.” Flare finally broke his impenetrable silence. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Psh.” Bridge brushed it off. “Nothing is too dangerous for me.”

“Well, I can’t lose another friend. I’ve lost too many already.” When Flare said such things, it showed the man underneath the scales and weapons. He was just a heartbroken man without any hope.

Cora had seen it before.

Bridge patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Flare nodded in return.

“So, I can speak to both the elves and the dwarves,” Cora volunteered. “And Flare can travel to the island—when we find it.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Bridge said. “I’ll continue to work on the location.”

Flare’s eyes met hers, his thoughts hidden deep down inside.

“What do you think?” Cora could tell he was in a vicious mood again. When he was a man, she could read his expressions much easier than when he was a dragon. It was much more difficult for him to hide.

Flare downed the rest of his glass before he inverted it and placed it on the tabletop. He wiped a drop of scotch from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “It doesn’t look like we have any other choice.”