“Virgin,” he says, in that sharp accent of his, and I can hear a surprised smile in his voice. “You’re still alive.”
“It’s Virginia,” I snap. “And don’t sound so shocked.”
“Is that any way to talk to me? I saved your life last night.”
“You’re a dragon and our prisoner—I’ll talk to you any way I want. And all you did was tell me to run. I would have figured that out.”
“You would have married him if I hadn’t been there.”
Maybe. It’s not like I had a lot of time to get to know anyone, or that I even have a say in it. But if a good-looking prince had asked Father for my hand, wouldn’t he have chosen him over some old man? Pairing me with Lord Varrens seems like a last-ditch effort. “What do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“You wouldn’t be in this cell if you hadn’t stopped to warn me. Advice I didn’t need, by the way.”
“What I meant was, I don’t care about you. Maybe Lothar can fake interest in a stinking paladin for a night, but he’s always been the better actor. I’ll give him that.”
I push away from the wall, a burst of anger overcoming my fear, and move to face him. “Lothar was the only one who treated me like a person, and even if it was all a sham, at least he had the decency to fake it. Unlike everybody else who was there last night, treating me like a piece of property. And you can wipe that smug grin off your face, because I don’t owe you anything.”
“Please. Lothar would have killed you if not for me. Even with my help, I’m surprised you’re still breathing.”
I glare at him through the bars. “If this door wasn’t in the way, I would slap you.”
“There’s that St. George charm. A slap in the face in exchange for saving your life? Sounds about right.”“You’re the one who put me in danger in the first place. My dancing partner wasn’t trying to kill me before you stabbed him in the chest.”
“You have no idea what he planned to do to you. To use you for.”
I swallow, wondering if I should believe him. Not that I think Lothar was there for any good reason, but still. “And what exactly were you doing there? Shouldn’t a dragon prince have better things to do than go around crashing my sister’s party?”
“Shouldn’t a paladin have better things to do than cry in a dungeon?” He raises an eyebrow and takes a step closer. Torchlight catches the shock of dyed red hair at his forehead, while shadows from the bars in the window line his face, obscuring his sharp features and cocky smile. His skin looks pale and sallow, though maybe that’s just the lighting. Around his neck is an iron dragon ring, glowing a faint red, enchanted with Celeste’s magic—with St. George magic—keeping his powers bound and unusable. I’ve never seen one on a dragon up close. Blotchy red patches creep up his neck from under the ring. They look itchy and swollen, and there are lines of blood where he must have scratched at them. “It’s not polite to stare,” he whispers, his eyes a vivid green.
My cheeks get hot, and I glance down at my feet. “It looks painful, that’s all.”
“Well, you could always take it off. You could let me go, and then we’d be even.”
Yeah, right. “Why did you tell me to run? And why didn’t you change forms, like Lothar? You could have escaped.”
“Oh, could I?” He sneers at me, his lip curling in disgust. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.”
“There’s not going to be a next time. You’re going to rot in this dungeon until—” Until my sister and the other paladins kill him, once they feel he’s outlived his usefulness. I clear my throat. “Until you’re sentenced to die for your crimes.”
He laughs. “You think I’m going to die here? This isn’t the first time I’ve been caught, and it won’t be the last.”
“Right. And you’re wearing that dragon ring because it brings out your eyes.”
He grins. “Doesn’t it?”
I grit my teeth in annoyance. I think about how Torrin and Celeste would be shocked to know I was down here, talking to a dragon. The whole barracks would be. They’d probably also tell me I shouldn’t be here. He’s dangerous, and I’m weak and powerless. A dud paladin with no business getting anywhere near a dragon, even one behind bars and bound by an enchanted iron ring around his neck.
I clench my fists, hot anger suddenly burning in my chest. Celeste and Torrin might be my closest friends, but sometimes it feels like they don’t know the first thing about me.
Tears prickle and threaten to fall again, but I hold them back. I look Amelrik in the eyes, bright and green and striking, and ask in a voice that demands an answer, “Why did you help me last night? You say you saved my life, but you’re a dragon and I’m a paladin.”
He shrugs and looks away. “I didn’t want Lothar to have the satisfaction of killing you.”
“Oh.” I can’t help sounding disappointed. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say. Did I really think he’d have some profound reason for helping me? That maybe, just once, someone saw me for who I really am, even for only a moment, and decided I was worth something? Even if that someone was a dragon. “Is that all?”
“Well, that and”—he sighs, putting a hand over his heart—“I’ve always had a soft spot for virgins.” Then he snickers.
I gape at him.
The door to the dungeon clangs open, and Celeste calls out, “Vee!” her voice echoing down the stairs and through the hallway. She rushes over, putting a protective hand on my shoulder and angling herself between me and Amelrik. “You shouldn’t be here.” Then, to Amelrik, “Back away from the door, beast! I said get back!”
Amelrik holds his hands up and takes a step backward.
As soon as he does, Celeste whirls on me. “Virginia St. George, I can’t believe you! Running off like that, and then I find you here, of all places, with a dragon.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I can take care of myself.”
“He’s dangerous! You know that.”
“He’s locked up.”
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. “And you, with no . . .” She pauses, glancing over at Amelrik and then changing her mind about what she was going to say, probably something about how useless I’d be if he somehow escaped. “You know better. He might be bound in that cell, but that doesn’t mean he’s not deadly. Words can be a weapon, too.”
“And you think I’m so stupid I’d just do whatever he said?”
“He’s a liar,” Celeste says, her voice hushed. “You can’t believe a word from him.” She sighs, putting her fingers to her temples. “But don’t worry—we’ll be taking care of him soon enough. Now come on, Vee. Father’s so mad he’s about to lock you up in one of these cells.”
She tugs my arm, and I follow her, even though I think I’d rather be locked up in here than getting married against my will. But before I go, I glance over my shoulder one last time at Amelrik. He’s standing at the door again, peering at me through the bars. His mouth turns down, just a little. Not angry or scared, but . . . well, for someone who claims not to care what happens to me, he looks awfully concerned. Our eyes meet, and something passes between us, some kind of understanding, and then Celeste is hauling me up the stairs, out of view.
5
FAMOUS LAST WORDS
Celeste is packing supplies for her dragon-hunting trip when I find her the next afternoon. She’s leaving tomorrow morning with a group of other paladins to track down Lothar. When I see her standing in her room, inspecting her sword, I get this bad feeling, like ice water being poured down my back.
I’m never going to see her again.
The thought pops into my head, unbidden. I don’t know where it came from. I shake my head to clear it and tell myself it’s not true. Celeste can take care of herself, both with her sword and her magic. It’s just my nerves getting the better of me.I clear my throat to get her attention, even though I’m sure she knows I’m here, lurking in her doorway. The best dragon hunter in the five kingdoms doesn’t not know her unstealthy little sister is standing right behind her.
She sheathes her sword and turns around, her dark blue cape whirling behind her. “Did you hear?” she says. “We’ve got a lead. It’s only a matter of time before we track him down now.”
The thought of getting anywhere near Lothar again sends prickles of dread running through my chest, but it’s obvious Celeste can’t wait to set out on the hunt.
“How’d you find him?” I ask, stalling, because I don’t want to ask her what I really came here for. My voice comes out like a croak, and I clear my throat again.
Her expression turns grim. “The prisoner talked. After some . . . prompting.”
She means Amelrik, and even though he’s a dragon, and a jerk, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. “You . . .”—I stop myself from saying “tortured”—“you interrogated him?”
Celeste nods. “He gave up the information about Lothar pretty easily. Not surprising, after what we saw between them the other night.”