Asher Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The door shut behind the woman, and Asher saw his home through her eyes. The great hall was cold. Dust lay on the stone floor. No fire burned. His manor had steep gables and pointed arches, but inside it held nothing warm. He had lived here two hundred years like a body in a coffin. Now she stood in the middle of it, rubbing her arms against the chill. He watched her glance back toward the door, and his chest tightened. She would leave. He had won her inside, and the empty house would drive her out again. "You must be cold," Asher said. His voice came out rough. "Wait here. Please." He moved fast. He knew every dark room. In one, he tore old curtains from a window and dragged in dead branches for a fire. But the branches were damp. The flame sputtered and died. Smoke filled the room. The woman coughed and stepped back toward the hall. Asher's hands shook. His plan was failing. She was drifting to the exit. Then he remembered the garden. Behind the manor grew one thing that still lived. He caught her hand, gentle, and led her out the back. A cherry tree stood in the dead waste. Pink blossoms covered its branches. Icicles hung from every limb and caught the moonlight. Petals drifted down onto the frozen ground. The woman stopped. Her mouth opened. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It blooms even here," Asher said. "I don't know why. I've never shown it to anyone." That was when the tree moved. No—something behind it moved. A long white shape uncoiled from the branches. Scales shimmered pink and silver. Luminous pink eyes opened and fixed on the woman. A dragon, graceful as water, lifted its head above them both. Asher stepped in front of her. He had seen the creature only at a distance for a century. It had never come close. Now it lowered its head toward the woman, and he braced to fight it. But the woman laughed. She reached past his arm. "Hello," she said. The dragon pushed its warm snout into her palm. Its scales glowed brighter where she touched them. It curled around them both, and its heat spread through the cold air. Asher stared. The one wild thing in his empty world had chosen her too. Just as he had. The woman sat against the dragon's warm side. She patted the ground beside her. "Sit with me," she said. "Tell me about this place." Asher sat. The hunger still stirred under his ribs. But she was smiling, and she was staying. He had feared his cold house would send her running. Instead, it had given him this. She was not leaving tonight. And now he had to keep her safe from the one thing he could not warm away—himself.