Dragonbound(37)

30
THE BRAVEST THING I’VE EVER DONE
It’s the next day and we’re outside. Odilia’s in human form, showing us her section of the community garden. Well, showing Amelrik, anyway. She’s mostly ignoring me. And who knew dragons had gardens? I mean, I wondered where they got the vegetables we’ve been eating, but I didn’t know they grew them themselves.
“Do you still like radishes?” Odilia kneels down and pulls one out of the dirt.
Amelrik makes a face. “I never liked radishes.”
“Yes, you did. You ate so many you threw up that one time.”
“That wasn’t me! That was Cedric.”
She stands up and puts one hand on her hip, smearing dirt across her skin. The other hand’s still holding the radish. “No, it was you. I remember you threw up on my stuffed boar, Tuskerbristle, and my mother said I had to get rid of him. I didn’t talk to you for a week.”
He grins. “Still Cedric.”
“Who’s Cedric?” I ask. “And also, I like radishes, if it’s still up for grabs.”
Odilia makes a point of chomping into the radish herself.
“Cedric’s my cousin,” Amelrik says. “Odilia’s brother. He’s off studying the migration patterns of humans. Right?”
“Uh-huh.” Odilia rolls her eyes. “He says he’s writing a book about it now. I can’t believe my father let him do something so frivolous. I can’t believe your father let him, either.”
“But humans don’t migrate.” I think I would know, what with being one and everything.
They both stare at me like I just said something crazy.
“I just mean, it’s going to be a really short book. Isn’t it?”
“But humans do migrate,” Amelrik says. “There’s a mass exodus every year during the summer. Especially in larger cities. Not everyone, but a lot of humans migrate west, to the coast, and then they migrate back once the temperatures drop again. I know paladins are usually stationary, but you really haven’t noticed?”
“Those are just vacations. Because it gets too hot in the cities. Nobody’s migrating.” That’s ridiculous.
He raises his eyebrows, still skeptical. “Anyway, it was Cedric who ate the radishes and threw up on Tuskerbristle.”
Odilia sighs. “I wish he was coming home for Eventide this year. And that he could see me in the games. Especially when my team wins.”
“Well, I’ll be there, and so will Virginia.”
“You’re bringing your whore to the games?”
“She’s not my whore. And yes, I am.”
Odilia opens her mouth to speak, but then scowls at something behind us. I turn to look and see another dragon approaching. She’s in human form—there’s not really room in the gardens for them to wander around in dragon form; at least, not without smashing everything—and she has wavy, dark brown hair, sharp features, and kind of a bitchy look on her face. And of course she’s naked.
“Oh, great,” Odilia whispers. “It’s Bryn.”The other dragon—Bryn—calls out to her in Vairlin.
Odilia plasters on a fake smile and returns her greeting.
“Are we speaking in English these days?” Bryn asks. She must have heard us talking, though hopefully she didn’t hear Odilia whispering about her. “Has your brother been gone so long he’s forgotten his native tongue and feels the need to clothe himself?”
“This is my cousin, Amelrik. You’ve met him before, I think, when we were kids. My brother’s still studying abroad. And Amelrik insists we speak English in front of his human, for some reason.”
“Well, if you’re her cousin, then you’ve been gone even longer.”
Amelrik says something to her in Vairlin, I think just to prove that he can.
She laughs, says something back, and winks at him.
I want to strangle her.
Bryn looks down at Odilia’s garden and gasps. “Odilia! What have you been doing to your radishes?”
Odilia is cautious. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. It’s just . . . Well, they’re looking a bit small, don’t you think?” Bryn’s garden patch must be the next square over, because she gestures to the radishes there. The greens are really flourishing, and the tops of the radishes stick out a little from the ground. She doesn’t even need to pick one for us to see that hers are doing much better than Odilia’s, though she does anyway. “Maybe it’s just because I’m used to mine being so healthy. I wouldn’t worry about it. But if you’re ever thinking about giving up your square, let me know. I’m always looking to expand mine, and I promise you I’d make good use of it.”
Odilia speaks through clenched teeth. “I’m keeping it.”
“All right. But the clan depends on these gardens, you know, and I’d hate to think you’re neglecting yours or letting it languish. Osric tells me you’ve been practicing hard for the games. That must eat up a lot of your time, what with how much work you need to get ready. I hope you don’t slow everyone down too much—they’ll be so disappointed if they lose.”
I nudge Amelrik, and we share a look.
Odilia glares at her. “I’ve been giving the team pointers on how to improve their speed. I’m surprised Osric didn’t tell you that, but then again, we’ve been spending so much time together, I don’t know when he would have had the chance.”
Bryn turns up her nose. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you at Godwin’s after-party?”
“The after-party’s only for participants in the games.”
“And their dates. Osric must be getting tired of having to spend so much time with you, because he asked me to go with him.” 
Odilia’s face falls. “He what?”
“You might have him during the day, but at night . . .” Bryn trails off, letting us imagine the rest of that sentence, and smirks. “Now, I really must be going, but it was wonderful talking to you again, Odilia. And please do come to the after-party, even if you can’t find a date.” She gives her a little wave, then saunters off.
“Wow,” I say, once she’s gone. “What a bitch.” She’s worse than Mina Blackarrow.
“Yeah,” Amelrik agrees. “Don’t listen to her.”
Odilia bites her lip. “She only wants him because I do. And now I’m going to have to see them together all night at the party.”
Amelrik shrugs. “You could just not go.”
“No way,” I tell him. “She has to go. She has more right to be there than Bryn does—she can’t let her push her out. And,” I add, to Odilia, “Bryn could be lying. Or exaggerating. Osric seemed really into you the other day.”
She perks up. “You think so?”
“Yeah. And if he actually liked her, she wouldn’t have so much to prove.”
“Maybe I should go talk to him. Just as soon as I don’t feel like I’m going to murder him.” She flexes her hands, like she’s imagining strangling someone, or maybe sinking her claws in. “Except . . . if he knew I liked him, that might make it weird when we have to see each other during practice. But if I wait until after the games, it might be too late.” She considers that, then says, “What would you do, Amelrik?”
“What?”
“If you liked someone, but telling them might make things awkward between you, and you’d still have to see them all the time, would you do it?”
“I . . .” His eyes dart over to me, then away again. He swallows and looks down at the dirt. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“It’s relevant because I’m asking for your advice. I really like Osric, and I thought he liked me. You know what? I’m just going to go find him. And then I’m either going to eviscerate him or make out with him. And Bryn’s radishes might be bigger than mine, but they probably don’t even taste good!”
She storms off.
I gape a little in awe. “She makes it seem so simple.”
Amelrik’s quiet for a minute. He looks like he’s thinking really hard about something, but then he just says, “Yeah, she does.”
“Maybe it is, though.”
“Is what?”
“That simple,” I say, and then I do the bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
I kiss him.
31
VERY MUCH ON PURPOSE
Amelrik kisses me back.
My heart races and my nerves tingle. I feel alive all over and invincible.
This is the best moment of my life.
Until he pulls away. “Virginia, wait.”
Uh-oh. Did I say best moment? Maybe I meant worst moment. Maybe him kissing me back was just a reflex and he didn’t really mean it. I put my hands over my face so he can’t see how embarrassed I am. “I thought you wanted me to. I mean, I wanted to. I like you. And I thought you liked me, but I guess I had it all wrong. So please just forget I did that.”
He touches my wrists and gently pulls my hands away from my face, so he can look me in the eyes. “You weren’t wrong. I like you. I like you a lot. But we shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?” It’s a stupid question. I know why not—I just don’t care.
He tilts his head. “I’m the prince of Hawthorne clan, and you’re a St. George.”“And that matters to you?”
“I don’t know. It’s supposed to. And after everything that happened to me—to my family—because of St. Georges . . .”