21
GO WITH THIS
The king sits with his court, all in dragon form, at the end of a gigantic chamber. I thought I would be the terrified one, walking into a room full of dragons who could easily decide to kill me, but Amelrik’s practically shaking as he leads me over to them.
“Remember,” he whispers, “follow my lead.”
I nod, not daring to speak. I feel like if I do, my voice will come out way too loud.
All the dragons look the same to me, but it’s obvious which one is the king. He sits in the middle, with the others gathered around him, silently watching us approach. I can’t read any of their expressions, but there’s definitely tension in the room, and none of this seems particularly welcoming.
We stop right in front of him. Amelrik drops to his knees, then gets down on all fours and presses his forehead to the ground in some elaborate bow.
I’m still standing.
He lifts his head just enough to glare at me and clears his throat.
Oh, right. I get down on the floor, too, trying to copy what he’s doing. I hate not being able to see what’s going on, but it’s not like knowing that a dragon is about to squash me or burn me to a crisp is going to make it not happen. Or make me magically fast enough to avoid it. Plus, you know, there’s a whole room full of them.
Scratch that. A whole lair full. If they decided I wasn’t leaving here alive, there’d be absolutely nothing I could do about it. And now I’m kind of glad I’m already on the floor, because my whole body feels like pudding.
There’s the sickening sound of flesh and bone twisting and rearranging as the king changes forms to match his son. Then—and this is the worst thing I’ve ever heard—the rest of the court does the same. It’s like the sound of my mother dying, a dozen times over, all at once.
The king stands before us. I’m wondering just how long we’re going to have to stay like this when he says, “Rise.”
Finally. I start to get to my feet, but I make the mistake of glancing up from my position on the floor. Like Odilia, the king isn’t wearing anything. I guess there’s no point, since their clothes would just rip apart every time they transformed. But seeing Amelrik’s naked father—seeing all of him—was not something I needed to happen today. I quickly look down at the ground again, careful to keep my eyes averted even after I’m standing. Not that anybody seems to care—I guess they’re used to not wearing clothes here. But still.
The king cups Amelrik’s face in his hands, studying him, like he’s afraid this isn’t really happening. “Amelrik. My son.” There’s so much emotion in his voice. Relief and joy mixed with sadness and pain.
“Father.” Amelrik lets out a deep breath, and it’s like a huge weight lifts from him.
The rest of the court is absolutely silent, watching this play out.
The king takes a step back, letting go of Amelrik. There’s no relief in his voice now—only horror—when he says, “What have you done?”Amelrik flinches. “I’ve come home.”
“Do you realize what they’d do if they knew you were here? And oh, if she saw you . . .” He makes a cutting motion with his arms. “I have no son! My son is dead!” He turns to one of the members of his court and says, “No one mentions this. No one. He was never here.”
“No!” Amelrik’s voice echoes through the chamber. He clenches his fists. “I’m not leaving. Not this time.” He glances over at me, then back at his father. “You need me.”
“I am your king! Do not presume to tell me what I—”
Amelrik interrupts him, shouting something in Vairlin. I have no idea what he says, but the king goes quiet, and a murmur runs through the court. All eyes are suddenly on me.
The king scowls at Amelrik, looking really pissed off. Actually, all the dragons look pretty pissed off. And none of them looks happy that I’m here. Or that I exist at all. The king sneers at me, a low growl emanating from his throat, and I think he’s about two seconds away from changing back into a dragon and ripping me apart.
Amelrik steps in front of me and starts talking really fast. In their language, of course, because why should I know what’s going on? I definitely hear the words “St. George” this time, though—as if it wasn’t already clear he’s talking about me.
The king asks him something. He doesn’t sound very happy about any of this. They go back and forth for a while, until Amelrik grabs my hand and pulls me forward, so I’m standing next to him. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Tell them you will.”
“I will what?”
“Just say it. Like you mean it.”
I look around at all the dragons—the naked men and women staring intently at me. I have no idea what I’m promising right now, but they’re all waiting for me to say it, and they look like they’re going to kill me if I don’t. “I . . .” My voice comes out a croak. I pause to clear it. The sound reverberates across the giant room, seeming crazy loud. “I will.”
The dragons gasp and speak to each other in surprised whispers, though at least they sound less angry.
Amelrik squeezes my hand. He looks pleased with me. Not just pleased, but like he’s really glad that I’m here.
Warmth spreads through my chest, unbidden, and I can’t help grinning at him.
The king shouts something—not angrily this time, but more like he’s making an announcement.
Then Amelrik holds his arm up, bringing mine with it, so that they’re both raised above our heads. “You heard your king! If anyone challenges her, they challenge their prince and all of Hawthorne clan! Virginia St. George belongs to me and me alone!”
Wait, I what?!
“Go with this,” he whispers.
“Go with what? What are you—”
He kisses me.
I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I sure as hell haven’t kissed a dragon. I try to pull away at first, out of instinct. He can’t expect me to actually go along with this. But his arms are around me, holding me close, his warmth encompassing me. He presses his lips softly against mine, kissing me like he means it. My insides melt. A thrill runs from my stomach down to my toes. And suddenly pulling away is the last thing on my mind.
22
IF I HAD ANY STANDING AS A ST. GEORGE, I CERTAINLY DON’T ANYMORE
Amelrik acts like nothing happened. It’s infuriating, to say the least.
We’re in his old room, which is a small, oblong chamber in the Royal Branch of the cave system. There’s a leather flap hanging from a fixture in the rock that serves as a door. A couple of servants in human form—naked, of course—are hurriedly lighting lamps and braziers and dusting off all the furniture. I imagine it’s easier to do housework when you have thumbs, but the room is also small enough that a full-grown dragon wouldn’t fit inside. I wonder if that’s intentional.
Once everything’s lit up, Amelrik dismisses them, telling them to bring us some roast beef and potatoes—I guess dragons don’t eat that differently from us—along with some fresh clothes. I watch them leave, thinking that as soon as they’re gone, he’s going to explain himself. But instead he surveys the room, his expression full of awe. “It’s exactly how I left it.”
Meanwhile, my mind is reeling. I have no idea what’s going on here or what just happened, other than that he kissed me. And that I liked it. Maybe a lot. Okay, definitely a lot, but I’m not ready to admit that. My first kiss was with a dragon, and if I had any standing as a St. George, I certainly don’t anymore.
Amelrik’s room is better lit than the rest of the caverns we’ve seen. There’s a giant four-poster bed in the back with a wooden chest at the foot of it. Next to it is a desk with some parchment and ink and a stack of wax tablets. A marble chessboard stands off to one side. At least, I think it’s chess, but all the pieces look like dragons instead of humans. It has its own table—also marble—and the chess pieces seem to be cut from jewels. One of the armies is emerald, the other sapphire.
One whole wall of the cavern has shelving carved into the stone. Every bit of available space on it is crammed with books. Amelrik runs his hands over their spines. He pulls one off the shelf and holds it out for me. “Here, if you like the Princess Mysteries, you’ll like this, too.”
I flip through it, but none of it’s in English. “I can’t read this.”
“What? Oh, right.” He sighs, disappointed with me, and takes it back.
“So, what was that about?”
His shoulders stiffen, so I know he knows what I mean. “What was what about?”
“Are we . . .” I’m almost too afraid to ask this. “Did we just get married?” Please say no. Please say no.
He raises his eyebrows. “You’re joking, right?”
“I didn’t hear an answer.”
“I’m a prince!” He puts a hand to his chest. “I can’t marry a human! Especially not one of paladin blood. And especially not in front of my father.”
“What was that kiss about, then?”
“Last I checked, kissing someone doesn’t mean you’re married.”
“No, I mean, why did you do it?” And why did he have to do it so well?
“I had to show them I was serious about you belonging to me. That’s all.”If that’s all, then why did it feel like he meant it? “I don’t belong to you.”