I brace myself for movement, carefully unfolding my aching body as I rise to my feet and make my way over to the bench.
Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roars. I'm almost getting used to the sound; it still makes me cringe, but it doesn't always cause the typical, traumatic flashbacks anymore.
Instead, it triggers questions. The conversation with Kestrel is still heavy on my mind, too; she wasn't wrong to call me ignorant. I know frustratingly little about the influence and magic of dragons.
I’ve neverwantedto know about these things.
Hating the beasts and the gods who created them has always been enough.
But now I’m trapped. This bond is a part of my story, whether I want it to be or not, and I don't know if learning more will help me, but it can't hurt—and Gareth is usually more forthcoming with his thoughts and information after watching me suffer for a few hours. Maybe letting his guard down because he feels sorry for me, somewhere deep under that gruff, hardened shell of his.
My gaze drifts between Blight and the patch of sky above us while I grit my teeth and try to work the latest aches and pains from my body. “The dragons in the skies over Lucindris aren't the same as Blight, correct?”
“No, they aren’t.”
“And the ones that King Reave seemed to command on the night he and I met…”
“Also different from her.”
“…Isn’t he bonded to them?”
“Not in the way you and Blight are.”
“He controlled magic on that night, though.” I shiver, remembering the way that magic overtook me. “And magic only exists in this world because of dragons, right? They're conduits for divine power and influence…vessels of the gods themselves.”
He hesitates. “Yes. That’s true.”
I stare at a bruise forming on my forearm, just above the Ashwalker mark. My mind is suddenly overflowing with questions, all racing, trying to shove their way to the front. “They don’t give their power to just anyone, right?” I ask, gingerly lowering myself onto the bench beside him. “They choose who to bless.”
Gareth says nothing to this, neither confirming nor denying it.
“Is that not right?” I press.
Another hesitation. “That’s how the gods designed their vessels to function, yes.”
I fix him with an expectant look. There’s obviously much more to this story.
“…There is a reason the king needs you,” he eventually says, in a voice so quiet it’s almost as though he’s talking to himself. “Why he was so eager to come collect you himself that night. A bond like yours, it's…” He glances toward the seats above, as if he's afraid some of our spectators from earlier might overhear our conversation. They all appear to have moved on, but he still seems paranoid when he lowers his gaze back to me. “…You and Blight are exceptionally rare,” he says. “Let's just leave it at that, for now. There are still some things I’m trying to make sense of myself.”
I want to press him further, to demand more answers. But about what, exactly? It’s overwhelming to try and sort through all the things I don’t understand; particularly when I’m still feeling faint after throwing up everything I’ve eaten in the past day.
Gareth rises to his feet before I can make up my mind about what to ask next. “I want you here before sunrise tomorrow, by the way.”
“…Can't wait,” I say, flatly.
A corner of his mouth twitches with what might be the beginning of a smile. He suppresses it quickly, then leaves me and Blight alone tobondsome more.
If I didn't feel like my body was in danger of falling apart completely, I would have beat Gareth to the exit. As it is, Ican't get myself to move very far or fast, so I end up sitting on that bench for half an hour, at least.
The entire time, I’m hyper-aware of Blight’s presence. Every breath she takes, every scrape of her claws against the metal platform. And again, I feel the same pull I felt toward the king—dangerous and unwanted, but impossible to ignore.
I lift my head in her direction. She stares back, unblinking, her long, feathered tail sweeping back and forth like a clock pendulum, ticking away what remains of the hour.
Our staring contest lasts for several minutes before I gather the energy to stand. I move closer to her on tired, shaky legs, telling myself I just want to study the changes in her body, the way her colors are shifting and brightening.
It's incredible to witness.
I can't deny that.
