“Winnifred Black?” Octavia asked, gripping her messenger bag with one hand and her walking stick with the other.
What were the chances the bartender was playing a game with her? This woman looked like she was moments away from Fading. How could she be the one Octavia sought?
“I am she,” the woman said, her voice aged and so quiet that the dragon shifter strained to hear her.
“Dawn is coming, and the night is short,” Octavia repeated the signal. She just… needed to be sure.
Those piercing blue eyes sharpened. “Red stars are falling, and death is on the horizon,” the woman finished.
Octavia’s shoulders incrementally relaxed. That was the sentence she’d been expecting. “I have the rose.”
Winnifred’s eyes shimmered, and for a moment, decades seemed to fall away from her face. “Finally,” she breathed. “I have waited many years for this moment.” She raised a gnarled hand. “Give me the flower.”
Power infused those last words, and the air crackled.
Questions filled Octavia’s mind. Who was this woman, and what did the rose do? She hadn't given it much thought before, but now she couldn’t help but wonder. It was too late for those types of questions, though. She was a messenger, and this washer duty. Reaching into her bag, her fingers closed around the rose.
For a single moment, after she pulled it out, Octavia paused and studied the object. The glimmering emerald was cool to the touch, and she didn’t sense any magic coming from the object. But there was a hum…
That moment’s pause was too much for the old woman.
“Hand it over, little girl.” Winnifred lurched out of her chair with far more agility than someone who looked so breakable should have had. Her fingers wrapped around Octavia’s wrist, and she snatched the rose. The old woman traced the flower’s edges and murmured something unintelligible beneath her breath.
“Mrs. Black?” Octavia glanced at the older woman. “What does the rosedo?”
The old woman’s head jerked up, and a flash of something dark and devious ran through her eyes. “None of your business, messenger,” she snarled. “It’s mine.”
So, it was. Octavia supposed it didn’t really matter. The Elders had commanded her to deliver the rose, and she’d done exactly that.
“Jacobs!” Winnifred called out.
The door opened, and the bartender entered. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Pay them, please.” The old woman went back to admiring the rose, her dismissal obvious.
Jacobs jerked his head. Octavia exchanged a glance with Flynn, who raised a brow. He seemed to say,I’ll follow your lead.
She could push for more information about the rose, but something told her it wasn’t a good idea.
After a moment, Octavia nodded and followed Flynn out of the room. As the door slipped shut, she could’ve sworn she heard the old woman crooning to the rose.
“Downstairs,” Jacobs said.
Apparently, the man wasn’t much of a talker. He practically bounded down the steps before disappearing around the corner. Flynn went next, leaving Octavia to make her way down the steps. Avoiding putting too much weight on her bad ankle, she took the stairs at a much slower pace, careful about where she placed her feet. All this hiking was taking a toll on her, whether she cared to admit it or not.
But now your duty is complete, the dragon reminded Octavia.Finally, we can take to the skies once more.
Excitement was a flurry of tiny dragon wings in Octavia’s stomach. The idea of flying again thrilled her. The way the air felt beneath her wings, the taste of the clouds, the?—
Octavia yelped as her foot slipped on the third-to-last stair. She grabbed the railing, her heart thundering as she fought to remain upright. The rail cracked and split from the wall. It wasn’t a clean break, and Octavia flailed. She tried to find something else to hold onto, but nothing was there.
She teetered forward, her hands grasping at empty air. Oh gods. She careened towards the floor. A fall, even one much worse than this, wouldn’t kill a dragon. Very little could do that. But it would fucking hurt.
Octavia was mentally bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of pain when a pair of hands landed on her hips.
“Careful, beautiful,” Flynn rumbled as he lifted her down the steps and placed her on the ground beside him. “You wouldn’t want to injure that gorgeous face of yours.”
She was unharmed. Thanks to Flynn. She turned to him and dipped her head. “Thank you. You saved me twice now.”