Page 85 of The Death King

“Want to see Khazmuda’s wrath?”

There will be no wrath from me—not when you deserve it.

I smirked. “Guess Khazmuda isn’t that fond of you.”

Talon’s back was to me, so there was no way to distinguish his expression, whether he was angry or amused. “Very few people are.”

It was midday when Khazmuda made his descent into the forest. We were far to the east, infinitely farther in that direction than I’d ever been in my life. To get there by horse would have taken weeks. Despite the beauty of the forest and the fertile soil, it was marred by the unusual marshes that proliferated there. According to legend, they looked shallow on the surface, reflecting the light in a deceptive way. But in truth, they were deep and vicious, and once you made the wrong step, you were sucked into their depths forever.

Khazmuda descended into a clearing and landed lightly on the ground, jerking us forward only slightly. I’ll leave you here and scout the area.

“Alright.” Talon returned his blade to his back then slid down the dragon’s side until he landed on the earth. Then he turned back to me, ready to catch me after I slid down the hard scales.

He hadn’t shown his chivalry when we’d ridden Khazmuda the first time, yet he showed it now. Guess he felt obligated because we were fucking. I should accept it gratefully, but to accept it meant I liked it, and I didn’t want to like it. I slid down just the way he did and refused his hand at the bottom.

He turned away to the saddle like my rejection was inconsequential. He loosened a couple things and let them slide to the ground. “We have what we need. Report what you find.”

Khazmuda took off again, barreling into the sky much quicker than he had when I’d been on his back. He was gone in just a second, disappeared from the tree line that fast. Now, it was just Talon and me.

He grabbed the heavy sacks and hoisted them over his shoulder before he moved into the center of the clearing, as far away from the trees as possible. He dropped everything before he got to work. “Do you know how to build a tent?”

“No.”

“Then let me show you.”

I approached him in the center, seeing him unroll everything like he did this every day. “I’m surprised you know how.”

“Why?” He didn’t look up from his work, pulling out the stakes and canopy.

“Because a king has people do it for him.”

He flattened the material then placed the stakes. “I’m not that kind of king.”

“Just the kind that sends innocent people to the desert to work their hands bloody.”

He hesitated in his work and looked at me. A long stare. A heated one.

I swallowed, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut.

“I never said I was a good king.” He turned away and got back to work.

I watched him put the tent together and hoist it up, making a low ceiling high enough for someone to sit upright. Then he grabbed his axe and moved to the tree line.

I grabbed the bedrolls and unrolled them, setting them up inside the tent side by side. When I heard chopping noises a moment later, I looked over to see him cut into a trunk so deeply that the tree toppled over. Then he started to chop it into pieces, moving and cutting like he knew exactly what he was doing. He left one of the logs intact and dragged it across the dirt toward the campsite, dropping it before he moved back and started gathering the smaller pieces of wood to use for a fire.

I got up and helped him, grabbing another bundle and adding it to his pile.

“Make a fire.” He headed back to the tree to retrieve more.

I looked through our supplies until I found a book of matches. I lit one and tried to catch the wood on fire, but they were soggy from the mist. The woods possessed a dense fog that permeated the area and the sky under a blanket of cold. I’d thought I would never miss that desert sun after spending seven years in it, but now I hated the cold more. That flimsy little tent wouldn’t be enough.

I tried to light the fire again and again, but nothing worked.

Talon returned and dropped the wood into a separate fire. “Let me show you.”

“I’ll get it.” I continued to strike it, going as fast as I could to make the spark.

He stood and watched as I failed hopelessly over and over. “Want to keep trying what doesn’t work or actually learn?”