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“Probably not.”
“I shouldn’t have told my people to take captives.”
I hesitate, stunned. It’s the first time he has admitted that capturing us was wrong. “No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I should have told her I loved her. Even if I didn’t mean it.” A harsh sob explodes from his body, and I put my other hand on his back, too.
“Your Promised?” I ask gently.
“She told me she loved me, shortly before the Guilhorn battle. And I did not reply. She did not mention it again, but I know my lack of response pained her. Her heart was like a mountain, strong and thriving. Mine is—like this.” He picks up a worn shell with ragged edges.
“I don’t think that’s true. Yours isn’t the kindest heart I’ve known, but you have your good qualities. You care about your clan.”
“I told my brother and sister I would rule with them. Equal partners. But I kept making the big decisions, the important ones, and they let me. I have done what my father wanted, what I swore to him I would do, and yet things keep getting worse. And now this.” He straightens, drops the shell, and stares at his hands. “Look at me.”
“Could be worse.” I step back, tilting my head. “At least you’re pretty.”
He stares at me, incredulous.
“The enchantress could have turned you into a fish, or a frog,” I point out. “Or a bat. But she chose to give you this chance. I think she wants you to understand us better. To examine your choices.”
“She didn’t really seem like the type for such philosophical purposes.”
He’s still trembling, so I place my palm over his heart to check its pace. It has slowed somewhat, and seems to be returning to a safer speed.
When I glance up at him again, he’s watching me, his eyes stormy with emotions I can’t decipher.
“Safe to say we won’t be sleeping,” I tell him. “Maybe we should try to find something to eat.”
“There are some roots that grow near the beach, just within the treeline. I used to love them when I was a hatchling. I rarely take the time to dig for them now.”
“Let’s hope they’re edible for humans.”
We pass the pre-dawn hours hunting for the tubers, which luckily are topped with huge feathery greens that make them easy to spot. Once they’ve been washed in seawater, they’re good eating, if a bit starchy.
After we’ve sated our hunger, I gather some clumps of seaweed and weave a loose sort of loincloth for Kyreagan. The weaving takes a couple of hours, and by the time I’m done, the sun has risen.
The loincloth doesn’t cover everything, particularly not in the back, but it forms a screen for his privates so my brain doesn’t immediately scream gorgeous cock every time I look at him.
“Thank you.” He nods, apparently pleased with the result. “Now we must go back to the others.”
I hesitate, remembering my personal vow to stay out of the dragons’ clutches. Of course, the situation has changed since then. If this transformation is permanent, our captors will be easier to defeat. I should return, at least to consult with the other women, and to find out more about the spell.
“Come, Serylla.” Kyreagan’s voice is low, firm, and compelling.
I approach him, but instead of letting him lead, I stalk past him, heading for the trees. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you expect to be obeyed.” I pick up the slippers I discarded yesterday. They’re damp and smelly, worn through in places after my forest trek, but slippers with holes are better than walking the woods in bare feet.
Kyreagan has no footwear, and when he steps into the undergrowth, he winces. He hides his discomfort immediately, assuming a grim expression. The concept of walking straight seems to baffle him, and he keeps veering from side to side and grabbing trees for support. I allow myself a giggle at his expense.
“We must be sure to avoid the voratrice’s den,” he says haughtily, ignoring my mockery.
“Before we go any farther, I need to relieve myself. You should as well.”
A look of dread passes over his face.
