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“Yes, of course. We can all agree on that.”
Phaedron’s voice drifts through the night air, strong and confident. I feel like a knife is twisting inside my rib cage. I turn slowly toward the firelight. There’s a table out there on the grass, which is weird enough, and it’s surrounded by torches and chairs and a group of people. And there’s a massive green dragon sitting at the end of the table who appears to be focusing intently on Phaedron.
Phaedron. He’s standing, wrapped in an impressive illusion of velvet and leather, gesturing with both his illusion and his left arm as he talks about the importance of making sure everyone is in agreement. The firelight kisses his golden hair in a way that makes me think of the night he first appeared in my bedroom, forcing his way out of a churning mess of magic like an old god come to save me. Stars above, I never had a chance.
I love him.
The realization spreads through my chest with glacial certainty. I thought I was in love with Balmyr, back in the confines of the Kingdom of the Summer’s palace, but stars above, had I ever even had a conversation with Balmyr? Until the rainy afternoon when I cornered him in the barracks to tell him I was pregnant, every one of our conversations had involved him showering me with praise until one or both of us lost our clothes. That wasn’t love. That was a sort of insanity.
But this? Watching Phaedron hurts, just like it hurt to watch my beautiful sister in her beautiful gown at the royal wedding in the Lands Below. It hurt because I love her, and because I can never have the things she has.
I glance down at my hands twisting together in a knot above my stomach. Perhaps the kisses meant nothing to Phaedron. Perhaps all he cared about was saving his brother. But, stars above, can I blame him? If Rensivar the Wicked had captured Ithronel, wouldn’t I do the same? Wouldn’t I use anything at my disposal to rescue her?
And, hells, I used Phaedron too. I used him to escape the Kingdom of the Summer and to find a safe place where the little life I’m carrying won’t be handed over to King Grathgore. Slowly, I unravel my fingers and then press them against my abdomen.
I would have done it by myself, if I had to. I was ready to escape the palace and run into the Lands Below while the other magicians closed the anomaly. Stars above, I was so certain I’d have to do it alone that I hadn’t even asked for Ithronel’s help. But in the end, I wasn’t alone. Phaedron helped me. He saved me from the cave spider. He led me through the Silver City.
Could I have done it alone? Of course. But I didn’t need to.
Tears prick the back of my eyelids as I stare at the table, where one of the elegantly dressed women around the table is talking about appearing in person to petition someone. Phaedron watches her with a polite smile, and I slowly realize there’s something else in there, buried under the mess of pain and awkwardness and the blinding realization that I’ve fallen in love with this man from the Lands Below.
I’m… thankful. Even if I was just a key Phaedron used to unlock the prison holding his brother, and even if our kisses meant less to him than they meant to Balmyr, I’m glad I didn’t have to run from the Kingdom of the Summer by myself. I’m glad I had him with me.
And I am so tired of being angry.
I suck in a breath, then tilt my head back and close my eyes. I feel like I’m balanced on a tightrope, holding my hands out to keep from falling into the mess of emotions that swallowed me whole while I was healing Rowan. Stars help me, I don’t want to drown in that bitter longing. And I’ve escaped the Kingdom of the Summer, haven’t I? Malron followed me to the Silver City, but he wouldn’t come this far. No one would come this close to the kingdom of the dragons.
Which means I’m free. Here’s my chance to begin a new life, for me and for the child who may come. And I don’t want to start that life with hatred for the man who helped me escape.
Even if it hurts to let him go.
“Hey,” someone says from behind me.
I jump as my eyes fly open and my heart hammers inside my throat. Rowan stands in the shadow of the trees beside me, his arms crossed over his chest and his one eye winking in the darkness.
“What are they doing out there?” I ask, trying to act like I’ve been paying attention to whatever is going on out there instead of just staring at Phaedron as my mind spins like the stars.
Rowan’s grin sharpens, and his remaining eye glows with a hint of the blue flames that erupted from his face last night when he tore the mountain apart.
“We’re negotiating,” he answers. “How about you? You okay?”
I take a deep breath, then press my palm against my chest, where my heart is still trying to jump out of my breastbone.
“Yes,” I say.
For once, it’s the truth.
Chapter40
Phaedron
I CAN’T
Once again, Rowan’s plan is impossible.
Even if he can actually do what he claims he can do, which is highly unlikely, there’s no way the dragons will agree to it. They’re dragons, for the void’s sake. It’s not like Rowan’s trying to bluff the sad old drunks of the World’s End into betting on yet another chess match with him.
But somehow, just after the sun crests the ridge and spills its sweet golden light across the little pond that the dragons call the Tarn of the Maiden, everyone around the table starts shaking Rowan’s hand and patting me on the shoulder, and a man named Elyon who looks like the kind of noble-born elf who wouldn’t give me the time of day in the Lands Below is suddenly talking to me in a serious tone about planning roads, or something.
