Page 71 of Soul of Fire

I frowned. A stable, then.How far?We couldn’t exactly go flying around the countryside in broad daylight, which I suspected was why Jorgen and Branka had landed before daybreak and went into hiding.

The same town we stayed in after finding the Drekadrottning. Near the sea.

Smart.I gave Kindra a mental scratch across her eye ridges. It was one of only a few landmarks I knew in Stalheim, having spent the last forty years in Ironholm.

The dragons had an uncanny sense of direction, and Kindra’s had gotten me out of more than one scrape in the Odemark.

Yes, I am rather brilliant.Kindra preened, her gloating somewhat dampened by a jaw-cracking yawn.I will sleep now until you are ready to feed us.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Ilka landed beside me and shifted, revealing swaths of bare, muscled brown skin. Ingmargrinned as they crouched to pull their pants from the pack. “Like what you see, Revna?”

I pulled on my jacket with a sigh. “For the thousandth time, Ingmar, you’re not Kindra’s type.” Despite the fact that they were very muchmytype, Kindra was not remotely interested in anything casual, and that was ultimately all that mattered to the dragons.

“Pity.” Their perfect backside disappeared into their leathers, and I sighed again at Kindra’s stubbornness.

Not that I’d ever try anything with Ingmar. I’d gone down the road of intra-reirhold relationships once before, and I had no interest in repeating the experiment.

It will be worth it. Kindra yawned again, one golden eye opening long enough to stare directly into my soul.The wait.

I thought you were asleep?

You’re lusting too loudly.

I’m not lusting, I lied.And I don’t need anything more than the occasional itch scratched. All this mating business seems to drive people to the very edge of sanity.

Continue to tell yourself that, if it helps.

“She arguing with you?” Ingmar was fully dressed, and they swept their black locs into a heavy bun atop their head.

“As usual. You ready?”

“Always.” Ingmar lifted their pack, throwing it over their shoulder. “Where to?”

Ittookanotherhourto trudge into town. Thank the Hearthmother for Kindra’s forethought in choosing a place we stayed before, because there was nothing else for miles around us.

“This place is in the ass end of nowhere,” Ingmar complained as we trudged along the muddy road, the countryside finally giving way to the occasional home.

I laughed. “Where we found Eisa was the ass end of nowhere. This is the armpit at worst.”

“Poetic.” Ingmar looked around, clearly unimpressed by the landscape. “It certainly smells like an armpit.”

“It’s a fishing village.” The road had sloped down as we’d traveled, the cliff giving way to a small beach and a run-down dock. “The land here is no good for farming. People still have to eat.”

“Elysia’s tits, the smell alone would put me off fish forever.”

“You’ve clearly never been properly hungry.”

The remark was too caustic. Ingmar looked at me, their eyes assessing as they tried to parse out my history, which I had no interest in discussing.

I knew the pinch of hunger well enough. It was one of the things that had softened me toward Eisa when we’d first stumbled into her tavern. Seeing her collarbones jutting from her flesh was like looking into a mirror of my younger self.

But there was no point in dredging up the past, so I kept my eyes locked on the distance. “There was a stable by the inn when we came here last. My guess is that’s where we’ll find Branka and Jorgen. Come on.”

Ingmar followed, their gaze boring into the back of my head as we made our way into the village and toward the little inn. It was the nicest part of the village by far, the holes in the roof neatly patched and the courtyard swept clean to welcome travelers.

“Jorgen?” I called, following the sound of snuffling coming from the stables. “Branka?”

“In here!” The voice was feminine and muffled somewhat, but I recognized it as Branka’s.