Dragonbound(12)

Then Amelrik’s hushed voice cuts through my thoughts. “Which clan were they from?”
“Shut up,” Torrin snarls. “Haven’t you done enough?”
But Amelrik acts like he didn’t hear him and only addresses me. “Virgin,” he says, “listen to me. This is very important. What clan were they from?”
I shake my head, not knowing the answer and not caring.
“Come on, Vee,” Torrin says. “Let’s get out of here. You can stay with my family tonight—you shouldn’t be alone.”
I nod, too tired to speak, and let him steer me toward the door.
“Wait!” Amelrik calls. Then his breath catches and he winces, his face going pale. But he clenches his jaw against the pain and says, “You’re not listening to me. The dragonkin. What color were they?”
I rack my brain, trying to remember what Justinian said about the mission. About Celeste. All I remember was feeling the overwhelming loss of my sister. But then his words float back to me. “Purple,” I say. “I think they were purple.”
“That’s right,” Torrin says, confirming my answer. He glares at Amelrik. “That thing sent them to find purple dragons, and that’s exactly what they did.”
Amelrik scowls, as if he suddenly got a bad taste in his mouth, but his shoulders sag in relief. “Your sister isn’t dead.”
A jolt sparks across my nerves. For a moment, I’m not sure I heard him right. “What?”
“I know them. If they were purple, then she’s alive.”
My heart pounds, my blood loud in my ears. I stare at him for a moment, until there’s an ache in my chest, and I realize I’m holding my breath. “Why would it matter if they were purple?” 
Torrin slips his hand into mine. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just messing with your mind. It’s what he does.”
“She’s a St. George,” Amelrik says. “She’s too valuable to them.”
“Valuable,” I repeat, the word tasting strange in my mouth.
“There’s a reason Lothar was at your party.”
“And how would you know?” I don’t know what color Amelrik is in dragon form, but Lothar was from Elder clan, Amelrik from Hawthorne. I think back to what Celeste said, about their clans having an unstable history. But she also implied Amelrik might have been working with the Elder clan. Even though it seemed like he hated them. None of it adds up, and I don’t know what to believe.
“I . . .” Amelrik stares down at his feet, something like shame coloring his face. “I just know,” he says quietly, not looking at me.
“Right,” I mutter. I don’t dare let myself believe him, even though there’s concern in his eyes that looks genuine, and a conviction in his voice that sounds truthful. But no dragon would carry off a paladin of Celeste’s caliber and let her live. And they would have had to kill her—she would never have let them take her alive. So even though I want to believe Amelrik with every fiber of my being, I know it can’t be true. Whether he’s lying to manipulate me or not, I can’t let myself buy into it. Besides, he’s a professional liar. He might not have actual blood on his hands, but he’s responsible for enough deaths, and now Celeste’s, too.
“Let’s go,” I tell Torrin, glaring at Amelrik and turning my back on him. I let Torrin lead me out of the dungeon and up the stairs, and I don’t look back.
Not even when I hear Amelrik’s voice say, “I’m telling you, she’s not dead. At least, not yet.”
I hate the little spark of hope that flares to life in my chest at Amelrik’s words. A seed of doubt wriggles its way into my thoughts, and I want so badly to believe that my sister is still alive. Even though I can’t imagine what that would mean. There was blood on the scrap of her cloak. And it was burnt.
But none of that is really proof that she’s dead, only that she was attacked, right?
“Don’t think about it,” Torrin says, his voice hushed, as he leads me upstairs toward his family’s rooms. “He said that to mess with us. To get into your head.”
I nod, biting my lip. He’s probably right. “It’s just . . . What if he’s telling the truth?”
Torrin pauses in the hallway. I half expect him to gape at me like I’m insane, like I couldn’t possibly be the girl he’s known all his life, but he doesn’t. Instead he looks thoughtful, his forehead wrinkling as he stops to consider that. “He can’t really know,” Torrin says, speaking slowly, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. “He wasn’t there.”
“Neither were we. And Justinian and the others, they didn’t see her. They think they know what happened, but they brought back a piece of her cloak, not . . .” I swallow, my throat tightening at the thought of what they could have brought back. “It’s a cloak. It could have gotten ripped when the dragons attacked. It doesn’t mean she’s dead.”
“Maybe, but the others wouldn’t have come home unless they were sure. They wouldn’t have just jumped to conclusions.”
“They would have searched for her first. And if that scrap of her cloak was all they found—”
“Vee, listen to yourself. Just because they didn’t find a body, it doesn’t mean anything good, all right?”“I know.” Tears well up in my eyes, and there’s a horrible, raw ache in my chest. “But Amelrik could be telling the truth. He said if they were purple, then she’s not dead. Maybe he really does know.”
Torrin tilts his head in sympathy. His own voice wavers a little as he says, “A paladin getting dragged back alive to a dragon’s lair is a fate worse than death. Celeste was my friend, and if those dragons took her, I hope she really is dead. For her own sake. And you can hate me for saying that, but it’s the truth.”
I nod. The tears spill down my cheeks now as I start to cry for real. Because he’s right. If a dragon did manage to take Celeste alive, it would only be to cause her more pain before finally ending it. Or maybe to take its time eating her.
A shudder runs through my whole body, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
If Amelrik was trying to tell me what I wanted to hear, he chose wrong.
And anyway, it doesn’t matter what he thinks he knows. I know my sister, and she would have fought to the end. There’s no way they could have taken her alive.
Unless . . . Unless taking her alive was their goal all along. Because she was valuable, whatever that means. If Amelrik was telling the truth, then there’s a chance she’s not dead. There’s a chance she’s undergoing an even worse fate right now, and we’re just standing here, not doing anything about it.
9
HURT IS ALL YOU’RE GOING TO GET
Mina Blackarrow and Ravenna Port storm into the library three days later, quickly scanning the room. Mina’s beady eyes narrow even further when she spots me.
Both of them are wearing black velvet funeral dresses, and I know exactly why they’re here.
Mina marches over and slams her hands down on the wooden table where I’m sitting. “How could you?”
I tighten my grip on the book I’m reading, not wanting to let her see how much she’s startled me, and don’t look up.
Ravenna sniffs and dabs at her eyes with a blue handkerchief. “She was your own sister.”
“No,” I say, “she is my sister. She’s still alive.”
Ravenna lets out a little gasp and puts a hand to her mouth. She and Mina exchange a look. A pitying one.
“You missed her funeral,” Mina whispers. “She would have wanted you to be there.”
A hint of guilt creeps through my chest. Celeste would want me to be at her funeral—I know that. But I also know that attending would have been like giving up on her, like admitting she’s never coming back, and I couldn’t do that. Not when there’s still a chance to save her.
“I know it’s difficult for you,” Mina says, implying that I find too many things difficult. “It was hard for us, too. We might not have been her flesh and blood, but we were her sisters in battle.” She pauses, shuts her eyes, and then lets out a deep sigh. “Not going to your sister’s funeral isn’t something you can ever take back.” 
I slide my fingers along the smooth, worn edge of the table, hoping I’m making the right decisions. “I know. And when she’s dead, then I’ll go to her funeral. When she’s not being held captive by vicious dragons who want who-knows-what with her and could be torturing her even as we speak, then I’ll stop trying to figure out a way to save her.”
Both girls stare at me. Mina’s face looks suddenly pale, and Ravenna just shakes her head, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“She really has lost it,” Ravenna whispers.
“I’m sitting right here,” I mutter. “I can hear you.”
“Celeste is dead, Vee,” Mina says soberly, looking me in the eyes. “There’s no saving her. And if there was . . .” She scowls at the book on the table, her lip curling in disgust. “If there was, then this wouldn’t be the way. And you certainly wouldn’t be the one to do it. If there was a way to save her, it would be dangerous—a paladin’s job, not yours. And if you’d been there, you’d know that she’s . . .” Her voice gets tight and she squeezes her eyes shut and swallows. “You’d know she’s not coming back.”