And even though it was my suggestion, and even though there’s plenty of room and we’re not even touching or anything, I am suddenly very aware that he’s a boy, and that he’s in my bed. Er, I mean, that I’m in his, but still. Sleeping on the ground sort of next to him was one thing, but sleeping in a bed together feels . . . intimate. Especially after the way he kissed me earlier.
It hits me how ridiculous this situation is. A giddy nervousness builds up inside my chest, and then I can’t help it—I start cracking up. Really loudly. My laughter shakes the bed.
“Virginia?” Amelrik sounds like he thinks I’ve lost it. A dragon, who’s in the same bed as me, is concerned that I’m crazy.
I start laughing even harder—so hard that tears slide down my cheeks.
Amelrik turns toward me. I can’t see him in the dark, but I can tell by his movements. “Are you okay?”
“It’s just . . . the two of us . . . here . . .” I’m laughing so much, it’s difficult to get the words out. I force myself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. I still feel giddy, like I could burst out laughing again at any moment, but for the most part I think I have it under control. I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I hadn’t left the barracks in four and a half years. Because I was so afraid of dragons. And now here I am, in a dragons’ lair, in bed with one.”
I start laughing again, even though Amelrik is silent, like he doesn’t find that at all hilarious. I think maybe I freaked him out when I said I was in bed with him—even though technically I am—but then he says, “Four and a half years?”
And suddenly it’s not funny anymore. I forgot he didn’t know that. He saw me get freaked out when we were leaving the barracks, but he didn’t know how bad it was. He was the one person in my life who didn’t, the only one who treated me like a normal person, and I just ruined it.
“The barracks used to be the only place where I felt safe. So I, um, just didn’t leave.”
“What happened four and a half years ago?”
I pretend I don’t hear him. “And then you and Lothar infiltrated it. The one place in the whole world where I was sure there weren’t any dragons, and you guys showed up.” And if Amelrik hadn’t exposed what Lothar really was, what would have happened to me? Would I be in Celeste’s place right now? Or would they have killed me when they found out I was a dud? “My father was going to marry me off to one of his friends. Someone old enough to be my grandfather. And everyone at that auction was there because of my bloodline, but this guy didn’t even have the decency to care about that!”
“The nerve.”
“He just wanted me to be his baby factory and pump out sons. Like sons are so great. I mean,” I add, “not that there shouldn’t be sons or anything. I didn’t mean you shouldn’t exist. Just that daughters should get more credit. But what I’m trying to say is, I was so afraid of dragons that I couldn’t even leave the barracks, but if I hadn’t run off with one—with you—I’d be in Lord Varrens’ bed right now. Maybe having to let him climb on top of me, and . . .” I shudder. This would have been our fourth night together, so it definitely would have happened by now. Probably several times. “If I’d married him, I could have stayed at the barracks forever, but I never would have felt safe again.”“It was your mother dying, wasn’t it? The reason you didn’t leave the barracks.”
I hate that he guessed it so easily, but what else would it have been? “I watched her get ripped apart by a dragon. He was a vendor in the marketplace. We thought we knew him. And then, one day, he transformed and murdered her right in front of me. She wasn’t from one of the Families. She didn’t have magic. But I’m a St. George. I should have been able to save her. Celeste would have, if she’d been there instead. But I just watched it happen. My mother was screaming for help. I’d never heard anyone sound so terrified. And I just stood there, unable to move. It’s my fault she died.”
“No, it’s not.”
“My mother got brutally murdered because I can’t use magic. Now Celeste’s in trouble for the same reason. Everyone back at the barracks knows how useless I am. That’s why they all treat me like that. Like I’m not good enough. It’s not like I decided to never leave the barracks again. Torrin thinks I did. That I could have left any time I wanted, if I just stopped being so dramatic. They all thought that. I know they did, even if they didn’t say it. But it wasn’t a decision I made—it just sort of happened. Every time I thought about leaving, or any time I got too close to the entrance to town, I felt like I was going to die. I couldn’t breathe, and I’d start shaking, and it was like I was standing there in the marketplace all over again, watching it happen. The only reason I jumped from that wall was because you dragged me. I was never going to do it on my own. And now you know how useless I am, too, and I . . . I wish you didn’t.”
He’s quiet for a minute.
My heart’s pounding. I shouldn’t have told him any of that. Just because I’m always asking him stuff doesn’t mean he needs to know that everybody hates me because I practically killed my own mother. I can’t use magic, and I’m not a paladin. I’m a failure as a St. George, and the only thing I could have possibly been good for was getting married and making more St. Georges, to do what I couldn’t. And what did I do? I ran away with a dragon prince instead. Like you do.
“What color was he?”
“That’s what you have to say? I tell you all that, and you . . . You know what, never mind.” I tug the blankets around my shoulder and turn away from him. There’s an ache in my throat. I never should have said anything. I don’t know what I was expecting. Even the people at home who care about me think that I’m a lost cause, so what’s Amelrik, who hardly knows me, supposed to think?
“I wasn’t trying to change the subject.”
“I can’t hear you—I’m asleep. I have another busy day of spilling all my embarrassing secrets tomorrow, and I need my rest.”
“I’m trying to talk to you about something.”
“And I’m trying to get you to leave me alone!” I flop over onto my other side and accidentally smash my forehead into his chin.
“Ow.”
“That’s what you get for creeping up on me and not staying on your side of my—of your—bed. And for being all ‘oh, what color was he?’ As if I care!”
“I wasn’t creeping up on you! I was just trying to . . . He was light green, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Maybe around thirty?”
“I guess. Something like that.”
“Then it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“What wouldn’t?”
“Whether you had magic or not. The dragonkin from Rowan clan go through this, uh, hormonal shift around then. It makes them prone to violent outbursts, and they have to transform more often. It also makes them resistant to magic. The binding spell wouldn’t have worked on him. You’d need a really experienced St. George for that. Even Celeste’s magic wouldn’t have been enough.”
“What?” I whisper it. He’s put this idea out there, this delicate, fragile idea that could change everything, and I feel like any sudden movements or loud noises might shatter it.
“He probably didn’t even mean to hurt her. They’re required to spend a few years living among humans, usually in their twenties. It’s not supposed to coincide with the hormonal shift, but sometimes the shift happens early. Anyway, what I’m trying to say, Virginia, is that it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”
“You’d better not be making this up to make me feel better. Because if you are, you can expect a punch in the face. If I can find it in the dark. You know what? You can expect a kick.” Punches are for when the lamps are lit.
“I swear I’m not making it up.”
“But then . . . why didn’t anybody tell me?” Why did they all act like I was to blame?
“Because paladins are ignorant. Knowing how to kill dragons doesn’t mean they know how we live, or that they even care to know.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” I try out the words to see how they feel on my tongue. And I know I believe them because relief washes over me. A knot in my stomach untwists, and my whole body feels lighter.
I could hug him. But, much like punching, it’s too dark for that. And being in his bed together is inappropriate enough without adding hugging to the mix. But I don’t know how else to say all the things that need to be said.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats.
And I think how funny it is that I feel safer here with him, in a dragon’s den, than I ever could have back home.
24
THE MOOD-ENHANCING QUALITY OF SPIT
“Close your eyes,” Amelrik says.
It’s two days later, and we’re outside, climbing a steep hill. It’s the kind of hill whose sole purpose in life is to make me aware of just how out of shape I am. Sweat drips down my forehead and down the sides of my nose, and I can hardly breathe. Amelrik’s a lot faster than me, now that his injuries are healed, and he keeps bounding up ahead and then coming back down to wait.