Dragonbound(34)

But maybe I am slightly relieved when Amelrik catches up to me, because this tunnel’s getting kind of creepy, and I could swear the torches are getting farther and farther apart.
“Virginia, come on.”
“I thought you couldn’t come down here?”
“I can’t. I—I shouldn’t have. And neither should you.” He puts a hand on my arm, and I can feel that he’s shaking.
This tunnel is creepy, but is it that creepy? “What’s down here? Is it haunted or something?”
“Please. Let’s just go back.”
“You had no problem spoiling the book, but you won’t tell me why you’re so freaked out?”
He keeps glancing toward the far end of the tunnel, like he’s afraid of whatever’s down there. “I didn’t mean to spoil anything. I know you’re mad at me, but it’s not worth this.”
“Not worth what?”
“Did you hear something?”
“No. Did you?”
“We have to go. If that means I have to pick you up and carry you out of here—”
“Okay, okay! We’ll go.” If he’s that serious about it.
He grabs my hand, practically dragging me.
But something else grabs me from the other side, tearing me away from him, and I scream.
“Virginia!”
I hit the wall of the tunnel with enough force to knock the air from my lungs.
A dragon looms over me, keeping itself between us so Amelrik can’t get to me. “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” it tells him. “They told me you were dead, but I knew if I didn’t feel the life drain out of you myself that you’d be back. And so here you are, come to get your revenge.”
Amelrik’s voice doesn’t sound like him. It’s too small and too terrified to be him. “Mother, no.”
Mother?
The dragon changes into human form. She’s a middle-aged woman with wild brown hair and vivid green eyes. Her eyes are so like his that I wonder if I would have guessed who she was, even thinking she was dead.
Amelrik starts to move toward me.
His mother changes back into a dragon and lashes out at him with her claws, just barely missing him. “Don’t lie to me! There’s no other reason you would have come back here, and to bring a St. George? Did you think I wouldn’t smell what she was?!” 
“I didn’t—”
“Of course you’d have to go to them for help. You disgusting, worthless excuse for a dragon! I should have done it then. The moment you slid out of me, I knew I couldn’t allow something so wrong to live. You were small and weak—tiny, compared to a real hatchling. Even with the ring around my neck, I had the strength to destroy such a pathetic thing. No one would have known.”
He cringes at her words. “Mother, I didn’t come here to hurt you. I swear!”
“Liar!” She changes into a human again, then back into a dragon. It happens quickly, and I can’t tell if she’s just insane or if she can’t maintain her form. “What did he promise you?” she asks me. “What did that creature who calls himself my son promise to give you in exchange for killing me?!”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, just lunges at me, all claws and teeth. Paralyzing fear flows through my veins. I’m already against the wall, and there’s nowhere to go. I should try to cast the binding spell, I know I should, but it all happens so fast.
Then Amelrik’s in front of me, his mother’s claws tearing into him. The force of the blow pushes him backward, so that he slams into me. Which hurts, but not nearly as much as getting mauled by a dragon.
“Run!” he shouts, putting a hand to his side, which is covered in blood.
I grab his arm, in case he has any ideas about not getting out of here.
His mother is about a million times stronger than me, though. She knocks him to the ground, pinning him with one long, deadly claw poised above his heart. “Transform,” she says. “Show me how ugly you truly are, and this time I won’t just break your wings, I’ll rip them off!”
“Get away from him!” I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I can’t let her kill him. Or rip his wings off.
“I’ll tear every last scale from your body, one by one!”
It’s like she didn’t even hear me. And I know what he said about me being better than Celeste, but I kind of wish I was her right now.
I think about the binding spell, and about how much I want his mother to stop. No, not want, need. Because he can’t die. He can’t. And not like this.
The smell of sulfur fills the air. Magic tingles in my hands. The flash of red seems extra bright in the dark.
His mother screams bloody murder. I don’t think the spell even worked, because she stays in dragon form, but she jumps away from him, hissing and cursing at me.
“Come on!” I grab Amelrik’s hand, helping him up, and then we run like hell.
28
LOOK AWAY, VIRGINIA
The king is furious.
We’re on our knees in front of him and his court—and maybe some extra onlookers, because it seems like there are a lot more dragons here this time—our heads bowed. Amelrik’s skin is pale and his breathing is shallow. He’s obviously in a lot of pain, and he has his hand pressed to the injury on his side, which is still bleeding.
His father doesn’t seem to care about that, though. He stays in dragon form and yells at us, which is pretty terrifying, to say the least. “How dare you disturb her! What did I tell you when you came back here?!”
“That I was—”
“That you were not to have contact with her! She was not to see or hear or smell you. Six years you’ve been gone, and she’s hardly had an episode. There are days where she’s almost her old self, and now you’ve been back two weeks and you not only set her off, but you let your St. George torment her as well!”
I make the mistake of glancing up, right as the king’s eyes focus on me. I still can’t read dragons very well, but anyone could see how angry he is.“I’m sorry, Father.” Blood from Amelrik’s wound trickles across the floor, staining the knees of my pant legs. He does not look good, and I’m worried he might pass out before all this is over.
“Do not think your concubine is so useful to us that you can allow her to get out of hand! Keep better control over her, or I’ll gut her myself.”
There are some murmurings in the crowd at that.
“It was my fault,” Amelrik says. “Virginia didn’t know.”
I hate that he’s taking the blame for me. And maybe I didn’t know what was down that tunnel, but he tried to warn me, and I should have listened to him.
“Your behavior is unacceptable, Amelrik. Unacceptable. This is why I sent you away in the first place! Do you think I enjoy seeing my only son bleeding out on the floor of the Royal Chamber?! Do you think I enjoyed picking up your broken, misshapen body years ago, not knowing if you would live or die? If I’d realized you hadn’t learned your lesson from that, I wouldn’t have allowed you to return! You deserve every bit of the pain you’re feeling right now, and you are not to go anywhere near your mother ever again. You or your St. George. And if you do, you’d better let her kill you, because if she doesn’t, I’ll do it for her!”
Amelrik flinches. “Yes, Father.”
“Rise before the court.”
He staggers to his feet. I try to help him, but he waves me off.
At least this is over.
“And let it not be said that the king of Hawthorne clan has no compassion for his idiot son. Heal yourself, Amelrik. Transform for all to see.”
There are some gasps from the audience, both excited and horrified, followed by whispers.
Amelrik just stands there, bleeding. His shoulders are hunched, and he stares at the ground, his expression pained.
The king stays silent for a while, drawing out the humiliation, until finally he says, “If you’re too ashamed to show your disfigurement, then at least stop bleeding on my floor. You are dismissed.”
“Look away, Virginia.”
We’re back in Amelrik’s room. He’s taken off his shirt, and he’s so pale, and I could swear his lips are turning blue. There are three gashes in his side, though one of them is deeper than the others. All three are still bleeding, and I’m surprised he made it back here without collapsing.
“I’ve seen you transform before.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.” He stares at the ground, his eyes half closed. He glances up at me, then away again. “I don’t want anyone to see me. I can’t . . . Please.”
He sounds so sad, and I don’t want to cause him any more pain. I don’t want to be yet another onlooker who stares at him or makes him feel like there’s something horribly wrong with him. But if I look away like he wants, it would be like saying there really is something that wrong that he should be ashamed to be seen, even by the people who care about him. 
I hate myself for ever making him feel like that.
“I’m not turning away. You’re really hurt, and I . . . I won’t do that.”
He opens his mouth, presumably to argue some more, but then he just sighs.
There’s the sound of flesh rearranging itself—a sound I never thought I’d be so relieved to hear. Amelrik’s wounds knit closed, though his skin is still stained with blood. Scales appear down his sides, and his wings spring out from his back. His eyes turn yellow. Almost as soon as the transformation is finished, he wobbles and falls to his knees. He spreads his wings out and puts one clawed hand on the ground to steady himself. He puts the other hand to his head.