“Wait!” He pauses, racked by coughing. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse. “Your family’s killed just as many of my kind. Why does that make me the criminal? I’ve never so much as had blood on my hands.” He looks down at them, dried blood filling the lines in his palms, and laughs. “Unless this counts.”
He’s losing it. I feel a twinge of pity, a little warm spot in my chest I know shouldn’t be there. But I can’t help it.
When he looks up at me, his expression withers, his mouth a thin line. “Don’t,” he says, his voice suddenly cold, his green eyes flashing in anger. His lip curls in a sneer. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. I don’t need your pity. If that’s how you’re going to be, then you can just go.”
I arch my eyebrows at him. “I don’t need your permission to stay or to leave. I’m not the prisoner here. And I don’t pity dragons. A dragon killed my mother. He ripped her to shreds right in front of me. So don’t think I could ever pity you, even for a moment.” Even if maybe I was, just a little.
His mouth hangs partway open, as if he’s about to say something, but then he keeps quiet. I can see his teeth. Maybe it’s my imagination, but they look slightly sharper than human teeth should. He starts to speak, then has another coughing fit instead. He moves his hand up to cover his mouth, and when he draws it back, I can see blood. His eyes water, and he holds very still, as if the slightest movement will cause him excruciating pain. When he can finally speak again he says, “Have they killed him yet?” His voice is little more than a rasp.
I just stare at him, conflicting thoughts fighting in my head. “That doesn’t sound good,” I whisper.
“It’s nothing. And it’s nothing compared to what Lothar’s going to get. Just tell me if they’ve killed him.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’re useless to me.”
“Why do you want him dead?”
He flinches, as if my question hurt more than his injuries. “You smell worse today,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “You stink like magic. It’s making me sick.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment. I’m a paladin, after all, and you’re a—”
He scoffs. “You’re no paladin. Not really. If you were, they wouldn’t have been marrying you off.”
I glare at him. “Oh, yeah? And what about you? Getting my sister to fight your enemies for you? Funny that you wouldn’t transform the other night, not even to get away, to save your life. Maybe you’re not really even a dragon.”
Something snaps in him—I can see it in his eyes—and then he lunges at the door. I jump back just as he slams against it, his hands grabbing the bars. Then his injuries catch up with him, and he cries out in agony.
My blood freezes in my veins at the sound. It feels like my heart stops, and I wonder why I’m still here, why I haven’t left yet.
He wraps his arms around himself and bites his bloody lip.
“Amelrik?” I whisper, after my nerves have calmed down and I feel brave enough to speak.
“If I were in my true form, this would be nothing. Nothing. I’d heal up like that.”
“But you’re not,” I remind him, even though it’s obvious.
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” he says, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”
“Yeah, well, the last thing I need is yet another person telling me what to do.”
“If this door wasn’t here, if this ring wasn’t around my neck . . .”
“But they are.”
“And when they’re not . . . you stay away from me, Virginia St. George.” He swallows and looks me in the eyes, dead serious. “You stay as far away from me as possible.”
7
FLUENT IN BEING HUMAN
I run back to the Ceremonial Room where the iron dragon ring still lies on the dais, Amelrik’s words fresh in my head.
You stay away from me.
I grip the ring with both hands and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to conjure up my feelings from last night, the ones that made me angry enough to find my spark. He said I stink, that I’m useless, that I’m not even a paladin. All these things should piss me off. And they do, but . . .
My thoughts flick back to the other thing he said. About when he’s free of that cell and of that ring around his neck. A dark shiver prickles up my spine and settles heavy in my chest. What did he mean? There’s no way he could escape, and even if he did . . .
He was coughing up blood. He could barely stand. Maybe what he said was the pain talking, just the ramblings of a mad dragon with nothing to lose.
I force myself to take a deep breath and focus my thoughts. The dragon ring feels solid and reassuring in my hands. He was just trying to intimidate me, that’s all. He’s not going to get free. I saw him attack that door—and I heard his screams afterward. Maybe he’s a liar, but his screams were real. There’s no way he could get out, or get that ring off. Only a St. George can remove it, and that’s not going to happen.
Celeste’s warning creeps into my thoughts. He’s also a liar. A con artist. The kind of criminal whose weapons are words and trickery. But I push it away, making a mental note not to tell her where I was tonight. Not that I was going to anyway.
He said I should stay away from him.
A draft wafts through the room, blowing past my ankles. I toss the dragon ring back down on the dais and go upstairs. I head to the Hathaways’ set of rooms and knock on Torrin’s door.There’s a look of surprise on his face when he answers. Then his eyes dart away guiltily. “Vee . . . I thought . . . I thought you were still mad.”
“Oh, I am. Don’t think this visit means I’ve forgiven you.”
He swallows. “Well, I heard. About your . . .” He bites his lip, struggling to come up with the right words.
“Betrothal?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure my future husband will keel over our first time together. Before anything, you know, happens. Then I’ll have fulfilled my family duty.”
“Uh . . . right.” He wrinkles his nose. “Until your father makes another arrangement.”
“I’ll be in mourning. He won’t be able to arrange anything for at least another six months.”
“Well, as long as you have it all figured out.”
I ignore his sarcasm and push my way into his room. There’s a dried dragon claw lying haphazardly on a bookshelf in the corner. The scales are black, but when the light catches them, they shimmer with different colors. I must have seen this thing a thousand times, but I never noticed how beautiful it was. Then I wince, thinking of Amelrik. I imagine how gruesome it would be to walk into a dragon’s lair and find a human hand, as if it was a trophy from an animal.
I shake my head, dismissing that thought. Dragons aren’t animals, but they’re not human, either. They’re monsters. I know what they’re capable of—I’m the last person who should feel any sympathy for them.
“I’m not here to talk about my upcoming nuptials,” I tell Torrin, and I catch a flash of relief on his face. “Last night, I made a spark.” I clench my hands, making the shape of an imaginary dragon ring. “It was magic. Real magic. From me.”
“Wow.” He blinks at me, too stunned to really say anything. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I glare at him. “How about a little faith?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just . . . After all this time.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“But that means you don’t have to get married at all.” He grins. “Forget waiting for some old man to keel over. You can start training with the rest of us! I’ll help you catch up.”
I shake my head and lean against the wall, staring out his window, which overlooks the entrance to the barracks. The sky is clear, thousands of stars shining down from the darkness. “It was just a spark. Not a spell. And it was just once.” I hold up a finger, emphasizing how singular it was. “So, not nearly enough to get me out of this marriage.”
He runs a hand through his hair, which is getting too long. “I’m sorry, for the other night. I really am.”
“You’re sorry for what, exactly?” For saving me from dragon fire, but not from a horrible marriage? For looking at other girls all night at the party and never even thinking of looking at me that way?
“Don’t be like that. You know what I’m sorry for. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Oh, right, that. “You mean when you said I could leave the barracks any time I wanted? That it’s my fault I can’t?”
“That’s not what I said and you know it.”
“Close enough.” It’s what he meant. I start to clench my teeth, but then force my jaw to relax. I’m here for information, not to berate him, even if he kind of deserves it. “I have some questions about the prisoner.”
“The dragon? I heard you’ve been talking to him. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Mina. Celeste told her.”
“And she told you?” I scowl, not liking that any of them have been gossiping about me. I mean, I guess the gossip could be worse. Maybe I should be thankful the only news spreading about me is that I was crazy enough to talk to a dragon. Not that I was almost duped by one at the party or that my father’s arranged for me to marry one of his old-man friends. Someone who probably owes him a favor.