AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I understand better now why Gideon had thrown me, why he wouldn’t come any closer. He had sensed the dragon. I certainly couldn’t hold that against him. A shiver runs through me as I think of the massive dragon.
I press my face into his enormous neck, letting him nuzzle me in return before mounting him again. This time, when Einar lifts me up, it doesn’t elicit the same feelings as before. His touch is gentler, more tenuous, as he helps me right myself on the saddle.
All the while, I can feel his eyes on me, but he hasn't said a word since we left. I grab one of the snacks I had packed from Gideon's saddlebags, and the king does the same. I am not hungry, not really, but I know that I need to eat even more after everything that happened last night.
And this morning.
When Gunnar rides ahead and Einar still says nothing, I finally break the silence for a change.
“You were right, before.”
He looks sharply at me.
“About the language. I knew Jokithan before.”
“Then why lie about it?” His face is closed off, but not as angry as I expected.
“When you refused to let anyone accompany me, I was...concerned. Curious, even.” I meet his eyes to let him see the truth in mine. “I wasn’t sure how much you would be willing to share, and I didn’t want to be kept in the dark.”
None of that is a lie. In fact, it’s a perfectly accurate accounting of what did happen.
He nods, accepting what I tell him.
“You were right, also. I’m not used to sharing my load with another person. When I didn’t want you to come --” he begins, but I cut him off.
"Please, don’t explain. I see now that it was valid, you not wanting to be slowed down.” I look at Gideon’s saddle, at Khijhana, anywhere but the king, while the truth comes crashing in like the frigid waters of the lake last night.
Sigrid is sick, probably getting worse, and I have delayed her help by several precious hours. I have no doubt that Einar would have ridden through the night to get back to her, something I can still barely wrap my head around. A king who cares so deeply for a servant. But then, the mistress of my household never cared for anyone at all, so it's hardly as though the servants were unique.
"What happened last night was not your fault." His eyes are wide with disbelief, as though he can't believe I would think such a thing.
But he's wrong in so many ways.
"If I hadn't come, Gideon would not have been here. Let alone the obvious fact that I'm the one who fell in the lake. I'm the reason you lost time. You told me not to come." Even in spite of everything that's happened, I still have to grit that part out between my clenched teeth. "And I did anyway, and now Sigrid might pay the price."
Is this the cycle of my life? An innocent person paying for my disobedience in an endless continuum of death?
He studies me a moment before responding.
"My people have been ill for a long time, and it was only happenstance that you were here before Sigrid got as bad as she did. Besides," he tilts a corner of his mouth up with considerable effort, "you could hardly have known there would be a dragon interrupting our journey."
I take the out he has given me, because the other does not even bear thinking about right now. What's done is done, and I will pile it on the list of my substantial sins back in the darkest parts of my mind where it can keep the rest of my mistakes company.
"Why do you think it didn't attack us?" I remember what he said about the dragon sparing people who are pure of heart, but even if I did believe in fairytales, no description has ever been less apt for me.
He answers without missing a beat, as though we hadn't just been talking about someone dying who he clearly cares for. Perhaps I am not the only one in need of a distraction.
"I've been thinking about that," he says. "The dragon was sleeping, and in the old legends, the people would only seek it out under an old moon. Maybe there's some truth to that. Maybe that's the only time it's awake?"
I shrug, because that sounds implausible, but I don't have a better explanation. Before I can come up with another topic of conversation to fill the empty chasm that seems to be stretching between us, we round a corner and a sprawling mansion comes into view.
“So your ambassador has been, what, travelling the world to look for a cure?” I ask as we draw nearer.
Einar scrunches his face in confusion, then understanding dawns on his face.
“I suppose I didn’t mention the important part. He is more than my ambassador. He’s also an alchemist.”
I mull that over for a second.
