“Are you okay?” I thought he’d be better now, but he still looks so pale.
“It’s just . . . it takes a lot of energy. To transform. And I . . .” He winces, and for a moment, he looks like he might throw up. “I lost a lot of blood. It takes time to heal from that, and I have to stay like this for a while. I’m sorry you have to see me this way.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
He pushes himself to his feet and folds in his wings. He keeps his gaze averted, like he’s afraid to look at me, or like he’s afraid to see me looking at him. “I’m sorry about all of it. I should have just told you what was down that tunnel. You almost got hurt, because of me, and my father threatened you. I let you believe my mother was dead, because it was easier than the truth, and it almost got you killed. I’m . . . I’m so sorry, Virginia.”
“Are you seriously apologizing to me right now?”
His eyes flick down to the ground. “You shouldn’t have had to go through all that, and I know I can never make up for it, but—”
“No, I mean I’m the one who needs to apologize. I should have listened to you when you said not to go down there. You tried to stop me, but I did it anyway. You almost died protecting me.” And I’m not convinced we’re out of the woods on that one yet. “It was my fault we were in that situation. I’m the reason you got hurt.” By his own mother, who would have tortured and killed him. “You’re the one who shouldn’t have had to go through all that, but I’m the reason it happened. And I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”
“You don’t understand. It’s my fault, just like it was back then. I make her mad, and I wasn’t supposed to be there, and then I was, with a St. George. It was the worst thing I could have done.” He wobbles again, swaying on his feet, though he manages to stay standing.
“Come on. You should lie down.” I lead him toward the bed.
“I have to explain first.”
“No, you really don’t.”
“She doesn’t like to look at me. She . . . she can’t control herself.” He’s shaking now, and it takes me a second to realize he’s shivering. “I knew that, but I . . . I thought she would be proud of me. I thought it would mean she didn’t have to hate me anymore.”
“That what would?” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I pull the blankets back from the bed, making a space for him.
He sits down and kicks off his shoes. He’s wearing socks, but I can see claws poking out of them. “I . . .” He’s shivering so hard, his jaw is shaking and his teeth are chattering, making it difficult to understand what he’s saying. “I was fourteen. I’d . . . I’d never flown before, and she hated that.”“Just lie down.” I try to put my hand on his shoulder, but he pulls away, not letting me touch him.
“‘Even draclings can fly.’ That’s what she’d say. It made her sick to look at me. But one day I managed to get off the ground. My wings still worked back then,” he adds.
Still worked? I glance at them, but he’s got them folded behind his back, and I can’t get a good look.
“I wanted to show her. I thought maybe if I could fly, she wouldn’t get so mad. I mean, I couldn’t fly, but it was a start.”
“You don’t have to tell me any of this. Please, lie down. You’re freezing, and exhausted, and you lost so much blood, and you say you’ll heal, but I—” I choke up a little, betraying just how worried I am.
He blinks, taking that in. Then he lies down on his back, pushing his wings out a little and tucking them in along his sides.
I pull the blankets over him.
His eyes fall closed, and I think he’s finally going to let himself rest, but then he opens them. “I make her want to hurt me. I thought I could change that. I thought if I showed her that I wasn’t worthless, that maybe someday I could fly, she’d . . .” He shuts his eyes again, and this time tears leak out. He wipes them away with his arm.
“She broke your wings.”
He nods. His arm is still over his eyes, but I can see tears sliding down his cheeks. Some of them catch on the tiny scales that line the edges of his face. They follow the curve of them down to his jaw, while others slip into his hair. “She tried to kill me. If my father hadn’t walked in . . .”
He’s crying harder now, and he’s really hurt, and no matter what he says, I know that what happened today was my fault. I caused this, and I don’t know what to do. “Do you want me to get someone?” There’s no way I’m leaving his room after getting chewed out by his father for wandering off, and there’s no way I’m leaving him alone when he’s this messed up, but I can ring the bell and ask one of the servants to do it. “I’ll call for Odilia.”
“No!” He reaches out for me when I move to leave, his clawed hand grasping my arm. It’s the first time we’ve touched while he was in dragon form. His hand encircles the spot just above my wrist, his claws curving along my skin. He isn’t hurting me, but he looks horrified when he realizes what he’s just done and quickly lets go. “I don’t want anybody else here, and I . . . I don’t want you to leave.” His yellow eyes are pleading with me—Amelrik’s eyes—and I don’t know how I ever thought they made him look like a different person.
“Yeah. Okay. I won’t.” The Princess Mysteries book is lying on the chest at the foot of the bed. I grab it and settle in next to him.
29
HOWEVER YOU GOT THAT WAY
I wake up a long time later with my arm draped across Amelrik’s chest and my hand resting on his shoulder, my fingers brushing against the scales on his neck. I’m lying on my side next to him, and my forehead is pressed against his arm. I don’t think he’d want me touching him while he’s in dragon form like this, but he was having nightmares, and crying in his sleep, and I just wanted to comfort him.
I should move, before he wakes up. I know I should. But I like being able to feel his warmth and the rise and fall of his breathing. I like being so close to him, and feeling cozy and safe, and I just want to savor this moment for as long as I can, before I have to let go.
My fingertips explore the texture of the scales on his neck. They’re smooth, and a lot softer than I thought they’d be, though there’s resistance when I try to go against the grain.
He swallows.
I freeze. My face is still pressed against his arm, so I can’t see his reaction to any of this, but I know he’s awake. And that he felt me touching him.
“Virginia?”
I consider whether or not I can get away with pretending to still be asleep, but I don’t think he’d be fooled. I pull away, retreating to my side of the bed before I can embarrass myself any more than I already have.
He sits up and stretches out his arms and his wings. One of them extends over me, and I get a glimpse of the splash of red scales at the base. Just for a second, and then he folds them back in and changes into human form.
I sit up, too. “I was just . . . You were having nightmares, and I didn’t want you to be alone.” I glance over at him. “Are you okay?”
The color’s returned to his face, and he no longer looks like he’s about to die. “Yeah. Mostly.” He runs a hand over the bloodstains on his side, where his wounds were.
“Listen, about what happened . . . I know I already said this, but you were really out of it, so I’m going to say it again.” I spread my hands out against the blankets, feeling the velvet squish beneath my fingers. “I’m sorry. Sorry that you ever had to go through any of that with your mother, and sorry that you had to relive it because of me.”
“You didn’t know. It wasn’t your—”
“Please don’t say it wasn’t my fault.”
His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Well, it wasn’t.”
“And don’t say it was yours, either.”
He’s silent.
“Amelrik?”
“I should have told you about her, but I . . . It makes my stomach hurt, just thinking about what happened. It makes me feel helpless and alone, like I’m there again. Like I . . .” He slides his hands over his face, then lets them fall to his lap. “I was so upset when my father sent me away. It was supposed to be Odilia. She was the one who was supposed to be part of the hostage exchange. But after my mother tried to . . . After I was . . .”
He’s shaking, and not from the blood loss this time.
“You don’t have to tell me about it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. “After my mother almost killed me, my father decided it would be best if I wasn’t around. For my safety, and because I set her off. She’s mostly okay, as long as she doesn’t have to see me.”
Doesn’t have to see him? “Um. I was there yesterday. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but your mother is insane, and I don’t buy that.”
He looks down at the bed. “You saw her at her worst. Seeing me again, especially with a St. George, must have really freaked her out.”“I gathered that when she tried to kill us.”
“I don’t know what she was like before. My father says she’s better when I’m not around, but . . .” He makes a face and rolls his shoulders, looking uncomfortable. When he notices me watching him, he says, “My wings ache.”