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"No one knows where the majority of them went, but there is one in particular who makes an appearance during the old moon.” He gestures to the sliver of a crescent left in the sky.
“He -- or she," he adds, seeing my expression, "is especially active when the lights are strongest, like during this very festival.”
I cling to each word; whether or not I believe him is irrelevant. I find that I could listen to him talk this way for as long as he is willing.
“It is said that this dragon has the ability to tell a true soul from a tainted one,” he continues. “And that there was a time when the villagers would track it to its cave with their intended to see if they would pass the test."
By now, I am beyond enraptured.
"What happened if they...weren't pure?"
He pauses, arching an eyebrow, his expression full of mischief as he takes another long draught of his eiswein.
"They were eaten," he finally says as if it's the most natural answer in the world and not at all gruesome or awful.
I let out a surprised trill of laughter at his nonchalant tone.
"Oh, is that all?" I say between chuckles. "Perhaps I should have brought you there then," I intend the words as a joke, but they sober me up quickly.
The more I learn about the king, the more I wonder if he would've passed the test. Whereas, I know beyond all shadow of a doubt that I would be little more than dinner for a dragon.
If the king notices my disquiet, he doesn't comment. He only chuckles along.
"That would certainly have been one way to get out of this marriage," he allows.
"There's still time," I grant, trying to pull myself back into the amusement of the moment.
He stiffens, his expression morphing from contented to something else entirely.
“Do you really want out of this so badly?” he asks, his tone taking on a more somber note.
I pause, unsure of how to answer for both him and me.
He shakes his head, but doesn’t press for a response, looking around again at the rest of the villagers. I look with him when something that has been nagging at the back of my mind once again occurs to me.
"What about the people in your castle?" I ask, changing the subject.
"You mean, have they gone to the dragon?" He lifts an eyebrow.
I almost smile in response, but I think of how many times he has avoided this line of questioning so far.
"No. I mean, they seem to know plenty about the festival, but they aren't here. You said they couldn't enjoy it." I leave that thought dangling in the air between us, hoping he will respond to it without having to ask a direct question.
He doesn't, of course, so I probe further.
"Are they not allowed to come to the festival?"
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, resignation painting his features. He lifts his eiswein to his lips and takes a long swallow before he finally turns his head to face me again.
"As I told you before, I don't put that kind of restriction on them."
"Then why aren't they here?"
"They don't leave the castle."
I know that the couples and families around us continue to converse, some in low tones and some in loud, slightly inebriated voices. But it feels like a tangible bubble of silence descends with his statement. His words feel so final.
"Ever?" I finally clarify.
