A Shade of Dragon 2(33)

No. I couldn’t think about it. Not when I was so powerless to do anything.

Lethe had been en route to return me to my former bedchamber, with the fireplace, the bookcase, and the feather-down mattress. I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth — that Theon was the man I loved… not when I had been shackled to a wall overnight. I couldn’t return to the frigid floors, the chains, the filth, when I knew that a real bed, a warm fire, regular meals, all those things awaited me in exchange for one teeny, tiny lie.

That I did not love Theon.

After taking me to my former chambers, Lethe had left for the throne room, where a council regarding the breakout was being conducted. I was instructed to remain in my room until he returned, and the key had turned in the lock. He didn’t trust me… yet. But I was getting to know Lethe now, and he was eager to trust anyone. It wouldn’t be long until he allowed some more length to my tether, and I could roam the palace, if I played my cards right. It would ruin Lethe to be disappointed again. He was, in so many ways, still a child.

And was it possible that I could lose Theon?

That look on his face…

Utter betrayal.

And with Lethe’s arm around my shoulders, I hadn’t been able to call out to Theon. I hadn’t been able to run to him.

How might things have been different if I had?

I didn’t know. I’d been too far away; arrows had already been tearing through the air; there had been no time. It was a lost cause. A missed ship. I was trapped here, and Theon was gone—for now.

It was deep night by the time Lethe finally returned from his carousel of meetings. I was huddled by the fire, appreciating its warmth. A servant had brought me a dish of sugared biscuits, salty potatoes and oil-drenched string beans. Half the plate had been gone by the time the key turned in the lock again. I hadn’t even thought of leaving—not if they were going to feed me and keep me warm. I stared bitterly into the fire. Dammit, I was still a human being. I had a survival instinct. I was not a bad person.

I was just trying to live, wasn’t I? Would anyone else not do the same? Was there a woman better than me, with such honor and virtue she would rather let her arms be broken by shackles than to pretend, even for a moment, to love a man unfaithfully?

The sound of the tumblers falling in the lock startled me from my stare into the flames.

Lethe entered, sweeping the door shut behind him without bothering to lock it. His trust was beginning to thaw again.

“Penelope,” he greeted. “I’ve been thinking only of you all day. With the country teetering on the brink of genocide, I thought of nothing but you.”

“Genocide?” I murmured, clambering to my feet and hurrying from the hearth.

“That is the path of which my father speaks. It is tragic, yes, but there is no steering his hand. As a leader… I’m afraid that he will be a merciless one.” Lethe raised a finger to trace my cheek. “At least I have you up here. The lone dash of sunlight on this clouded eve.”

“Lethe.” I pulled his hand away from my face. “I thought you were intended to take the throne from your father.”

Lethe nodded ruefully. “I am. But my father wishes to first see me wed. He believes that a bachelor king with no heir appears weak to the surrounding lands, and is an obvious target of malintent. But an established king—with a queen, and a son—is almost immovable, save with a powerful insurgency such as our own.”

“And you want to be wed, don’t you?” I whispered up to him. “You want the throne you’ve been promised your entire life.”

Lethe smiled. “Wouldn’t you?” he asked. “But I will not take the scepter with any healthy female. My father says that ice dragons cannot love.” He hesitated, and his fingers rose again, brushing my cheek. This time, I let them. “I don’t believe him,” he said. “If I cannot love, then what is it that I feel when I’m with you?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Lethe swallowed, and his fingers crept along the frilled edge of his princely tunic. He peeled both panels of fabric to the side, exposing his chiseled pectorals, as white as marble.

“Why does it hurt?” he wondered.

I was reaching forward to touch the heart he claimed ached so when an inky black scrawl appeared across Lethe’s flesh.

“Are you falling in love with him?”

I withdrew my hand with a gasp. Another mysterious, disembodied message… and Lethe had sworn before that it was from Theon. Was it really? Had Theon known? Was he somehow watching us now?

The question certainly made it seem as if its author was invested in my romantic inclinations.