Page 39

38

WHATEVER IT TAKES

T hough we should be celebrating our rescue, the day had been long and disheartening, and as the enormous black dragon carried us away from The Soundless, the sun began to lower its head as if it were done in as well. There was only so much living and dying that could be stuffed into one stretch of sunlight, and we were at capacity. Or so I hoped.

I had much to be grateful for. The pain in my head gradually lost its edge. Our seats were secure, the dragon was whole and healthy, and for our sakes, it flew neither too high nor too fast, which offered a level of comfort I hadn't counted on. The beast could have dragged its talons in the snow on the tops of the Queevnar Mountains, we flew so close.

I'd never wanted to fly again. And yet, all I'd desired in the past few days was to climb on a dragon with Tearloch and escape. And now my wish had been granted by Moire—the woman I had lost hope of ever seeing.

Fate had spoiled me. I hadn't suffered nearly as much as my friends had. Bain had lost both his brothers. Tearloch had been beaten severely for the sake of leveling the playing field. Ciro must have planned to pit him against Nogel all along.

Griffon had been needled and bled by degrees. There was no telling how much longer he might have lasted if the changelings' facades hadn't failed them. Sweetie had a damaged arm and mourned the loss of his friends—thank goodness his heartbound had been physically unscathed. But poor Lennon's pain seemed equal to Bain's. She'd lost part of her soul while Bain had lost the remainder of his blood family.

Then, of course, there was Morrow and Dower, who'd lost the most of all.

And if they counted Huxor, Tearloch and Sweetie had lost two of their dearest friends.

I turned and looked down the length of the dragon and admitted...we could have lost so much more. One woman, three men, two dragons, and a bull. A lot of death just to entertain a city of monsters.

No—to entertain one twisted man.

But there was hope for the people of The Soundless, if they were wise. Moire had charged them to start anew, to create the sort of world they wanted to live in without Ciro's interference. If there were enough good among them, they might be able to change.

One bold man had asked Moire if the prophecy would be fulfilled, and if all of them would die, what was the point of renewing anything? She only told them to be patient. That all would be revealed soon, and that any time they spent rebuilding their community wouldn't be wasted.

That sounded hopeful to me. If it wasn't a waste to start something...then I hoped Tearloch and I could do the same. I just wasn’t sure where the starting point should be.

By the time we reached Ristat and landed outside the vast complex of the palace, our sunset was fading to black. Griffon's father directed servants to provide us with rooms, meals, and hot baths. He'd probably smelled us firsthand, knew that we'd been locked up for days, and that we all needed to wash The Soundless off our bodies.

It would take much longer to wash it from our minds—if that was possible.

Lears and Poole opted to be housed with the king’s guard. Nogel was invited, by Griffon’s father, to join the king’s dragon riders in the royal drake house, which utterly thrilled him. The rest of us were led through a labyrinth of attached buildings with a promise there was a destination in mind.

The apartments they assigned to us were at the end of a short wing, tucked away in a far corner of the palace as if meant to be forgotten. When I entered mine, the door creaked on its old iron hinges. The creak of other doors echoed in the corridor behind me as my friends accepted their assignments. Inside, the room was cold, lit by a fresh fire in the hearth that had yet to start creating heat.

How I’d dreamed of sitting before such a fire again…

It was a large space, larger than I expected, but that only made it feel more desolate, more empty. My home in the canyon would have fit inside with room to spare.

The bedchamber lay through an archway, separated by a heavy, green velvet curtain instead of a door. Beyond it, the bed was massive, draped in thick furs and layers of quilts. It seemed untouched, as though no one had slept in it for ages. The thick wood bedposts and canopy were intricately carved, though the details were worn smooth by time, much like everything in the parts of the palace I’d seen thus far. I ran my fingers over a spray of flowers, feeling the grooves where some ancient craftsman had worked. But how long ago?

For both warmth and light, the fire was open to the bedroom as well, though someone had lit a candle on a table beside the bed. Its tiny flame shed little light in comparison, and I felt an instant kinship to it. In the grand scheme of the day, I had contributed so little…

As had happened many times in recent years, the crackling fire only made me feel lonelier. So, I was grateful when the silence was broken by a long line of servants delivering a deep tub and enough water to fill it. And I was able to hush my self-pity while I bathed and dressed in clean nightclothes. It didn’t take much food to fill my knotted stomach, though I was grateful for each bite.

The fire had quieted. I was able to hear my own breathing. And I admitted the problem with my luxurious accommodations was this—it was just another jail cell in a place I didn’t belong.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. The furs brushed soft beneath my fingers like a pet craving affection, and I considered sleep. I was weary, yes, but I was even wearier of being alone.

With my key and my drawing of Demius hidden in one of my boots, I donned a pair of slippers and escaped into the hallway with a hooded candle in hand. But it wasn’t just companionship I wanted. It was Tearloch. I just prayed he felt the same.

I found the nerve to knock on a door. Sweetie answered wearing clean, exquisite robes of brown and gold. Minkin stood behind him and invited me in. I declined and left them to their privacy. Sweetie didn't know which door was Tearloch's, but with a wink encouraged me to keep trying.

The dark paneled hallway was filled with shadows from statues, tables, candelabras, and paintings in deep, carved frames. The lush red carpet looked like so much blood confined within straight lines.

I stopped to stare at a painting of a beautifully detailed black dragon exhaling fire onto a uniformed man who sheltered behind a shield. Though it protected his entire body, the edges were turning orange. He wouldn't last much longer.

Only Zelan hadn’t been allowed a shield…

I wanted to rip the painting off the wall and toss it in one of the half-dozen small fires I'd seen as we’d marched through the hallways. But even that wouldn't save the man.

Is my mind turning?

Someone touched my shoulder, and I bit back a scream.

Tearloch stood behind me, looking just as frantic as I felt. His untethered dark hair was damp and he wore clean white sleeping clothes. His feet were bare and his chin was shaved smooth. He smelled of memory leaves and staunchberries. I thought he might take me into his arms, but instead, he wrapped his warm hand around mine and pulled me along the corridor, all the way back to my room. Once we were inside with the door closed behind us, he tugged me against him, wrapped his arms around me, and held me tight.

“How is your head?”

“Not bad.”

“You must rest.”

I nodded.

"I came to find you gone. I panicked."

"I..." I fought for breath, though I didn't want him to let go. "And I was looking for you."

"I'm not leaving you, do you hear? I will sleep on the floor if you prefer, but I'm not leaving you."

I pulled a slow, ragged breath into my lungs and sighed. "We're together. That's all that matters. The nightmare is over."

He finally dropped his hands to my waist and forced a laugh. "I just can't...I can't wake up."

I knew just how he felt. "Well, if you can't wake up, then we'll just have to change the dream."

I led him to the bedchamber. The bathing tub had been removed. The firelight was waning, but there was more wood at hand.

He glanced at the bed but still hadn't smiled. "You mean to seduce me?"

"Whatever it takes to stay in your arms."

His penetrating blue-green gaze warmed me to my bones. "It will take very little, love. Very little indeed."