The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1) by Dan Michaelson (miss read books .txt) 📗

and a book was spread open in front of her. She set down a pen. I wonder what she’d been writing, and smiled at the idea of her keeping a journal. I remember when she was younger, chasing Joran and I around when we went out exploring along the edge of the forest, or hunting in the Holden Hills that were far to the north of here. She rarely caught us.

I got to my feet and twisted again, stretching out stiffened muscles. Everything seemed a little bit off, but I thought if I could stretch enough that I could undo that stiffness. “I didn’t mean to sleep quite so long.”

“You weren’t the only one,” she said, nodding over to Sophie. Sophie rolled toward us, though her mouth was open, and drool streamed down one cheek. She shivered slightly, as if dreaming. “I think she’s chasing something in her dreams,” Tara said.

I smiled, taking a seat at the table across from her.

She looked up at me, her dark eyes regarding me for a long moment. “I’m glad you didn’t get caught in the storm,” she said.

“You and me both,” I muttered. I rubbed my eyes, and she forced a smile.

“I looked outside this morning,” Tara said.

“And?”

“And the flooding is pretty severe. Worse than anything I’ve seen in quite a while.”

“I’m sure it will dry quickly.” I had to hope so. We’d had a rough wet season. To have a bad dry season as well meant the crops wouldn’t thrive.

She pressed her lips together, frowning. “Probably. This time of year, the rains don’t linger quite as long.”

“We need to get planting as well,” I said.

“Are you still planting crops?”

“Not to sell,” I said. At least, not to sell much of it. Most of our income came from our livestock and from some of the crafts that my mother made. Alison too. She had a deft hand with weaving, and she could skillfully put together fabrics that others could not. They usually fetched a high price when we went to Berestal, which made her time worthwhile.

“Dad wants to get our crop in soon too. Mostly corn, but some potatoes.”

“You don’t seem that excited about it.”

She flicked her gaze over to Sophie. “I’m not excited about it. I don’t want to be involved in it. I don’t want to be a farmer.”

“You sound like Alison.”

“Alison doesn’t like the farm life?”

“I don’t know if it’s a matter of her not liking it so much as it’s a matter of her feeling trapped,” I shared.

Tara glanced down at the book, as she scratched a quick note before looking back up at me. “I’m surprised she would feel that way.”

“I don’t think she always did.”

“It’s been a while since I visited her. Maybe I should go with you and see her.”

“I’m sure she would appreciate the distraction,” I said.

I probably shouldn’t share that with Tara. I didn’t know whether or not Alison would care. Though she and Tara had once been friends , now they were merely acquaintances. Joran and I had stayed close, despite the distance that formed between our families.

“She wants to go into the city to see the caravan that came through.”

“What caravan?”

“There were about a dozen wagons that came by our house the other day. They were painted in the king’s colors.”

Tara leaned forward and frowned. “The king has never come to Berestal.”

“I don’t think it’s the king himself,” I said. There was a bright intensity in her eyes. “More likely than not, it was just…” I shook my head, frowning. “I suppose I don’t know… ”

“When are you going?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t decided that yet. I think Alison needs me to take her into the city,” I said.

Tara turned her attention back to the book. “I wish Joran would show an interest in me.”

I looked to the back of the home. Everything was quiet there, though every so often I could hear somebody snoring. I didn’t know if that was Joran or his father. “Joran pays attention to you.”

“Not that much,” she said. “I’m not angry about it. He has his own interests, much like Sophie ,” she said, nodding to Sophie as she snuggled up near the fire. She curled up even more with her head resting on one of her arms. “My father doesn’t understand me, either.”

“It sounds like your mother does,” I said.

She watched me for a moment. “She does. Should she not?”

“I wasn’t saying it to upset you.”

“What were you saying it for, then?”

I took a deep breath. There was a time when Tara wouldn’t have gotten so upset with me, but that was when she was younger and she was a different person then. Now…

Now I realized I didn’t know her nearly as well as I once did.

“Will you let Joran know I needed to get back? And will you give your parents my thanks for their hospitality?”

Tara noddedand turned her attention back to her journal, ignoring me.

I stopped at the door and pulled it open, looking out. The day was cool, with a slight breeze, carrying the smell of the damp earth. It carried an edge that suggested that there was something more within the air.

I closed the door, stepping outside. Once I started walking away from the house, my boots became submerged in mud, making it difficult for me to walk quickly.

I’d been gone long enough, and I needed to get back home before my mother decided to come out looking for me. I could only imagine what she’d done when she wasn’t able to find me the night before, especially with the storm that we’d had. Alison, too, would likely have been worried about me.

What if they had come out looking for me?

What if they thought I’d died?

That worried me more than anything.

I noticed some of the water already beginning to recede, though it was taking longer than it normally would after a rain. Picking my way along the ground, I headed toward the King’s Road. Normally, reaching the King’s Road