To Tame a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,63

maintain his composure.

The sound that had awoken him came again—a low, strained moan from Elliya.

The lingering unease and disorientation from Falthyris’s unintentional sleep was burned away in a flash of heartfire.

Elliya was still curled against him, and her little body was radiating a startling amount of heat compared to its normal temperature. Her skin was slick with sweat, her dark hair damp, and she was shivering. Wasn’t the latter what humans did when they were cold?

Falthyris thrust aside the questions that followed that one. He didn’t have answers, and he doubted those answers would have made much difference regardless. His limited knowledge of humans was adequate enough to determine that this was not normal—this was the sickness she’d spoken of, the result of her tainted blood.

A cold, dark force wrapped around his heart and squeezed, making his breath ragged and granting new weight to the dread lumped in his gut. Elliya’s confrontation with those beasts had only been the first part of her battle for life.

“I am here, Elliya,” he said softly. “You are not facing this alone.”

She whimpered and pressed herself closer to him, stilling some of her trembling against his solidness. “S-so cold. Burning up.”

Frowning, Falthyris reached aside to grab the waterskin. He uncorked it and, carefully as possible, helped her lift her head. “Drink, Elliya.”

When he touched the rim to her lips, she parted them. It seemed more of the water trickled down her chin than flowed into her mouth as he tipped the container, but at least she drank some.

Perhaps he lacked expertise concerning humans and the way they worked, but he was fairly certain that expelling so much water through their skin would eventually drain all the moisture from a human’s body, leaving them like a carcass that had been dried out by the desert sun and sands. Even if that were not the inevitable outcome, he would not risk it. She needed to consume water.

She turned her face away after only a few moments, having likely swallowed even less than she had the last time he’d made her drink. His frown deepened, and the tightness in his chest somehow intensified.

“You must have more,” he said as gently as a command could be spoken.

“Cannot,” she rasped.

“You must try.” Falthyris returned the waterskin to her mouth.

After a little more coaxing, she finally took a few more sips. That would have to be enough for now. He replaced the stopper and set the waterskin aside. Though he would do his best to make sure its contents lasted, he had to face the reality—he would have to leave her alone soon to refill the container.

That understanding only made his dread impossibly stronger.

Still trembling, Elliya settled against Falthyris and closed her eyes. All he’d learned over the last few weeks about how agonizingly slow time could feel from a mortal’s perspective had little prepared him for the days to come.

Elliya’s sleep was fitful even when she was still. Falthyris made her drink whenever she seemed awake enough to listen, but she swallowed a little less each time. Her temperature rose and fell through the night, though even during the lows it was well above the heat she normally emitted.

She eased into a deeper slumber sometime after he could taste the morning sun on the air, and he withdrew from her briefly to check her wounds. Most of her skin was ashen pale, but the flesh around her bite wounds was an even angrier red than before. That red seemed to have crept into the delicate veins beneath her skin, also, creating an alarming web of sickness.

Not knowing what more to do, he spread a little more of the plant paste over her wounds, focusing on the spots where it had thinned out, before lying with her again.

She woke shortly after midday for a brief period during which she drank a little but said she had no stomach to eat. Falthyris didn’t argue that; dragons could go decades without food or water. He had no idea how long humans could do the same. She told him she had a fever, that she was very sick. He told her she had no choice but to survive, that he would accept nothing less.

Those lucid moments were her last for some time.

Elliya shivered, sweated, moaned, and muttered. Sometimes she moved weakly but restlessly, as though she could not find comfort or was fighting some unseen force. Sometimes she was motionless, but somehow continued putting off that unquiet energy. By that night, her hair