The Deepest Night

I snatched him up by the leg with my head lifted high so he dangled there from my mouth. Talons scraping the earth, feet, body, tail. We slammed down and apples pelted the grass around us, a hard thumping rainfall.

Somehow I managed not to roll. We skidded to a halt sideways but upright, my lungs scorched and my wings trembling. When I could, I lowered my head, placed him down as gently as possible. Then I Turned and collapsed beside him, done in.

I’ll tell you this: The aroma of apples mixed with horse dung had never, ever smelled so sweet.

Chapter 23

“What an appalling trip,” complained a voice near my head. “Bone-rattling ride, rotten service. Next time I believe I’ll take the train.”

I wanted to smile, but it seemed too much effort, so instead I only opened my eyes and gazed up at the ocean of clouds.

They churned far away from us now, their own separate realm once more.

“Eleanore, are you alive?”

I cleared my throat. “Just. You?”

“Aside from the fact that there’s a welt the size of a cricket ball on my forehead, and some rather impressive puncture wounds along my leg—”

“What?” I sat up, reenergized. “Where? Show me!”

I’d tried to bite down carefully, but I’d had to catch him, after all, and we’d been plummeting and I’d been mostly focused upon how much I didn’t want to die.

“It’s fine,” Armand said. He was propped up on his elbows and smiling, that small ghastly smile, his face still painted red and white. “Hardly hurts at all. I say, do you think you might, er, put on some clothes before stripping me of mine?”

“No,” I snapped, vexed. “Just be a ruddy gentleman and look away.”

“I am the ruddiest damned gentleman you’ll ever meet,” he retorted, all wounded dignity. “You have no idea. You’re naked nearly all the time and I never—”

I laughed. “Righto. Never. Will you be still? I need to examine your leg.”

He gave up, falling back to the grass. “You’re the nurse.”

I pushed up the tattered remnant of his cuff. The punctures weren’t insignificant; my dragon teeth were very sharp. But neither were they as deep as I’d feared they’d be. Some were more like scratches. If I had a chance to clean them and wrap them, they likely wouldn’t require stitches.

I thought. I hoped. I’d gladly take on another round of soldiers before I’d shove a needle and thread through Armand’s flesh.

I was categorically not, not, anyone’s nurse.

“We need cover,” I announced, looking around. Trees everywhere, as far as the eye could see. No people. No horses. Only trunk after trunk ringed with manure and scraggly, uncropped grass. A misty, silvery haze wafting through, making a phantom wall of the distance.

Furrows from my claws scored long lines through the dirt that led straight to us, ending at our feet.

“Thought I saw a lake when we were coming down.” Armand was staring directly up at the sky. “Perhaps a house beside it.”

“Really?”

“It was quick. I might be wrong. The orchard ended and the area seemed more like a forest. I think it was in that direction.” He pointed to the left.

“I’ll investigate. Hold on.”

I Turned to smoke.

Except I didn’t. Nothing happened.

I released a breath, frowned. Tried again.

Nothing.

Armand’s gaze cut to mine, then swiftly away.

“Are you going?”

“I’m trying! It’s not … it’s not working for some reason. I’m so …”

Exhausted. Hungry. Scared.

I scowled up at the sky, my fists on my hips. I had to do this. We were in danger out here in the open, in daylight. So I had to.

Come on. Smoke. Smoke … 

“Eleanore.”

Smoke!

“Lora.”

“What?” I snarled.

“We need to eat,” he said. “Both of us. Hand me the knapsack, will you?”

I pressed a hand to my forehead, then flung it away. The knapsack had torn off him before we’d landed, but it hadn’t gone far, stuck in some lower branches of a tree nearby. I stomped off and jumped for it until I could grab it, then jerked at the straps.

It broke free. Twigs and leaves bombarded me. A few more apples plunked to the ground.

“No need to kill the tree,” Armand called.

“Shut it,” I replied, but under my breath.

He was right. I needed food and clothing and rest, but as I walked back to him I realized he probably needed all those things even more. Well, not clothing. But he looked as if he might go down under a good stiff breeze.

I set the sack before him. My shirt was still on top, so I tugged it free. The buttons felt fat and unyielding; my fingers groped at them clumsily. By the time I’d managed the trousers and boots, Armand was sitting up, an array of tins before him. The knife in his hand stole the weak daylight, condensing it into a stab of silver along its blade.

He speared a tin and sawed it open, then lifted it to his nose.

“Minced peaches. There should be some hardtack, too.”

I searched for the hardtack while he lifted each tin and examined the labels.

“What are you looking for?”

“The caviar,” he said. “But it’s not here. It must have gone to the girls.”

“Thank heavens,” I said feelingly, then paused. “You brought caviar on our rescue mission?”

“It was in a tin.” He sounded defensive. “A perfectly logical choice.”

“Too bad. It’s peaches for you instead.”

I handed him one of the flat hardtack crackers. He dipped it in the open tin, then took a huge bite.

“Delicious. Much better than caviar.”

It was. So was the next tin of beef stew, and the next of poached salmon, and the next of lobster. We washed it all down with one of the flasks of water, sharing sips. I wanted to open another tin but was growing more and more uncomfortable sitting there so exposed, plus I knew we’d need to save something for later.

I took up the empty tins and chucked them as far from us as I could. Then I gathered up handfuls of apples and stuffed them into the knapsack.

The day was darkening. Wind began a long, slow whistle through the trees, a strange and melancholy sound.

“I’m going to try to Turn again,” I told Armand. “Stay here.”

“Not a problem.”

I wiped my hands down my thighs. I lifted my face to the clouds and the wind took my hair in a wild dancing swirl and I thought, Smoke!

I remained stubbornly, unmistakably, a girl.