Free Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) by Jackie Gamber

glared at her. “You do have magic. You’re trying to make me help you.”
    “I don’t know magic. I don’t even know what just happened.”
    “Stop lying. You’re using my mother’s stone to trick me.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t come here to trick you. I came here because I thought you would help me.” She pushed to her feet, and batted at the dust on her skirt. “I was obviously wrong. Forgive me for thinking you had a kind bone in your body.” She stomped toward the cave opening. And stopped.
    “So go,” he said.
    She peered at him over her shoulder. Her voice trembled. “I can’t.”
    “You can’t walk two steps?”
    “Maybe you could go with me.”
    “No. I don’t go near the village anymore.”
    She turned, her hands twisting against her dress. Her eyes reminded him of the panicked stare of a doe as he swooped down for dinner. He groaned.
    “Just until dawn?” she asked.
    “First tell me how you made the stone whisper.”
    “What stone?”
    He narrowed his eyes. Then he pointed to the crystal near her feet.
    “But I didn’t hear anything,” she said. “ I didn’t even know I was holding that thing.”
    “I think you are tricking me now. Again.”
    She walked toward him, and sighed so heavily he could taste her breath. “I only want to borrow a very small portion of the floor so I don’t have to go out into the dark. Don’t you see? If I have to go out there I’m afraid I’ll…”
    “Afraid you’ll what?”
    “I’m just afraid. Please don’t make me go.”
    He wished he could reach inside her mind to find the truth. All he had was her word. And what good was the word of a human?
    Then he felt her hand against his chest. Something passed between them. Hesitation. A shared breath. He pulled away, and moved toward the deepest part of the cave. “Not one sound. Not one.”
    He didn’t even hear her settle. He strained to hear her breathe, but even that was lost to him. At first, he wondered if she finally did leave, except he sensed her there somewhere. She was a grain of sand stuck in his claw, and the more he shifted to get away from her, the more aware of her he became. Finally, he resigned himself to her presence. He’d suffered through it before; he could do it again, just this once.
    * * *
    Sometime in the night, he awoke, startled. Had he been dreaming? He could never remember his dreams, if he had them. But something had disturbed him. He sniffed and reached out, patting the ground, searching for the girl. He touched her leg. She made a muffled little breathing sound. Reassured, he settled comfortably again, and closed his eyes.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Fordon Blackclaw stared down from the alcove window of his personal quarters. Life carried on in the valley below. Torches flickered like orange stars. He could even hear the low rumble of dragon feet and the faint murmur of dragon voices from the distant village.
    It was the oldest of all dragon communities, established eons ago, before grubby human hands began snatching land. The place had no formal name, all dragons knew of it simply as the “mountain village”, though through the years, humans had come to call it Wing Valley. It had a poetic sound that translated nicely in dragonspeak, and, considering the quality of human learning, the name was more complimentary than insulting.
    The insults came later. Dragon history was full of them, beginning with the initial pact between dragon and human creatures to strive toward common goals. What dragon ever had anything in common with humans? How it ever came to pass that dragons allowed themselves into service beneath their puny overseers was mystifying.
    He’d never understood how the position of vassal became one of respect. Where was the honor in fighting for humans during their childish conflicts? It only proved how feeble the creatures were, willing to risk life and limb of dragon, but not themselves. Even when humans weren’t fighting,