Page 26 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon

Chapter Twenty-Six

D irt and blood disperse into the water. Spreading and sinking, disappearing, into the shadows of the large tub. Thick mist rises from the heated water, coiling against the cool air of the room. I run my hand against the surface. Ripples form beneath my touch before it stills again.

My broken lute rests against the far side of the wall. Its lacquered cherry wood body is caved in, strings snapped and curled.

Jaromir sits on the floor, leaning his head against the flat of the door. His eyes are squeezed shut, his face twisted in pain.

There’s a strange finality of it all. Jaromir will marry another. We killed three men. Our quest is lost the instant someone realizes they’re missing. The violence will follow Aeron’s name, rendering his legacy tarnished.

I splash my face, wincing when my lip and cheek burn.

Jaromir is at my side in an instant.

“Is there pain?”

Is there pain?

There’s nothing but pain.

I shrug, disturbing the water once more. “It could have been worse. I am grateful you appeared when you did.”

“As am I.” His words are softened, but the murderous glare in his eyes suggests anything other than the gentleness in his tone. I’m sure he’s imagining everything that transpired before he arrived and everything that could have been. “Their deaths were too peaceful for what they deserved.”

I don’t want to spend any more time thinking on them. Thinking on the way I couldn’t answer their call for violence with violence of my own. A swift justice, a means to an end. But I’m alive while those men no longer breathe. I taunted him—Donnick, that was his name. I taunted him before Jaromir ended his life, throwing his own words back in his face. The elven bard who got the last laugh. There’s a ballad in there somewhere, I’m sure of it.

But I have no interest in writing it.

It’s done. No use checking over my shoulder to search the road taken for regret. All we have is the way forward. If you had asked me yesterday what my next steps would be, I’d have known without pausing for thought. Sure, there was always the question of after , but that was a question for the future.

Now, everything is shrouded in doubt. The path is without light. We could push forward, risk word traveling of our crime, sully Aeron’s name, and end up behind bars or worse. It wouldn’t take long to connect the dots. Unfamiliar travelers blow through town, an elven bard in their company, and three of their locals go missing. The arrest warrant practically writes itself.

We could disband, returning to whatever corners of the world we call home. My throat tightens at the thought. I thought I found something like home with Jaromir, but that chance has been destroyed.

Maybe some small part of me needs to hear its decimation confirmed.

“What happens with us now?” I search my well of strength to speak the truth I always long to hear. The truth I deserve to hear. No games, no falsehoods. If this is to be the closing page of our story, I would not have it end with what if ? “What happens to you… to us?”

Jaromir lifts his hand as if to touch me, but he lowers it before he can. “Whatever you choose.”

I laugh. “Strange to think it’s all up to me.”

“I told you, I was yours for however long you’d have me.”

Something akin to anger forces its way through my numbing calm. How dare he? How dare he? I want his truth, not pretty words he offers as comfort. He gave me those once already, and look where that brought us? “Would I keep you as master and be your pet?”

His nostrils flare as his face flushes. “No!”

“No? Would I be your mistress? Waiting for you to slip away from your wife to warm my bed when the urge arises?”

A small part of me, a cruel, terribly selfish part, wants to hear that he was never going to marry her. That it was a false promise he made and regretted. That he was already in pursuit of severing this vow before he met me, so I’d find enough space to dismiss the lies I’d swallowed.

“I offered my hand to her in title only. To ensure she was taken care of should I fall. My brother’s land, his farm, his house, it passed to me. Not to her. If I die, she has no claim to her home, her property. Rhosyn has tried to petition for the right to bypass the inheritance laws, to establish a binding contract as steward of the inheritance, to buy out the deed, whatever the cost, but the magistrate refuses. Even in these circumstances.” His words are laced with bitterness, and I know he’s thinking of the way Damir died. “He’s already threatening to call for the deed in my absence. I promised Rhosyn I wouldn’t let her lose their home. She is my family. I had a duty to uphold.”

His words land like heavy blows, weakening my resolve. If the inheritance passes to Jaromir, and he has no heirs, his property would go to the town magistrate. They must have planned to bear a son of their own. He’s right. He’s right. He had to take care of them, I know this, but my anger is so much safer to feel.

“And what of your duty to me? Do I not matter enough for a piece of that honor you so revere in yourself?” I don’t remember standing, but water sluices down my body, dripping into the tub.

His eyes darken as he gazes up at me, his hands clenching at his sides. “You matter more than everything. I was going to call it off when we got there.” He stands, his shoulders taut.

“Were you?” Something treacherous stutters in my heart at this admission, but I know better. It’s an easy promise to make in the aftermath, after it’s too late to follow through on. It’s a confirmation that he chose to lie, that he was always going to marry her, and my involvement was a complication to his plan.

I step over the side, dripping water on the floor, on his boots, and prod my finger against his firm chest, hard. “And were you ever going to tell me of your arrangement? Or were you going to lead me to your betrothed’s door, like some ignorant, lovesick girl?”

Jaromir grabs me by the shoulders, his touch searing. “No. I was never going to tell you—” I fight against his hold, but he only tightens his grip. “I wasn’t going to tell you because it would be my shame to bear. You would have demanded me to honor my vow. And I couldn’t bear losing your respect when I chose you over my family.”

The fight leaves my body, and it’s a struggle to remain upright.

I’d never want him to abandon his vow, not for me. I’d never want to live with the guilt of knowing he chose me over his family. I just wish… I wish everything was different. That I could hold on to this, on to him, and carve out a space in this life that’s mine .

I have memories. And I have anger. I have all too much in my head, in my chest, in my heart. Nothing I can keep from slipping through my fingers, even as it yet remains in my thoughts.

And maybe it’s anger or pain that fuels my next choice.

My hands curl in his tunic, pulling rather than pushing. I yank him closer, and when our lips meet, there’s no gentleness. It’s a rough and desperate descent. We don’t even make it to the bed, I shove him down to the wet floor, yanking his laces open and gripping him with a possessiveness I’ll never have over him. His hand twists in my hair, pressing my bruised mouth harder against his. Our teeth collide with a clack, and his beard chafes my chin raw, but I need this. I need him. I’m angry and I need him.

Pushing him to lay flat, I rise over him and sink onto his length. He hisses, his grip on my hip painful. I slam down, forcing his entry far too quickly so the stretch of him carries a sharp burn.

But I don’t care. I don’t wait to adjust. I’m already moving above him. He gazes up at me, vulnerability and adoration in his eyes, meeting my brutal movements as if he’s accepting whatever punishment I deem fitting.

Somehow that makes it so much worse.

I bite down on my sore lip, circling my hips and trying not to cry.

He’s not mine. He could have been, but it would have been a lie. This is a lie. It rings like truth in my blood, in my bones, in the roughness of our joining, but it isn’t mine. It’s a stolen wish and when it disappears, I’ll be left alone again.

Jaromir leans up, kissing my abused mouth. We slow our movements, and the first of my traitorous tears begin to fall.

“What do you need?” he murmurs against my lips, pressing shallow thrusts into me even as he asks.

I shake my head, unable to speak. He kisses me again, moving in me with heartbreaking gentleness. His thumbs catch my tears, and his lips follow his touch. Slowly, he stands, lifting me even as he pulls free. I cry out at the achingly empty feeling.

He presses a kiss to my temple as he carries me to the bed, laying me flat against the mattress. “Do you wish to stop?”

“No.” I find my voice and tangle my fingers in his tunic, twisting and yanking. “Please.”

He’s sinking in slowly, but I frantically shake my head. Understanding dawns on his face, and wordlessly, he flips me to my hands and knees, pressing his palm against my back. I arch into his touch, trying to force myself back onto him.

“Is this what you need?” His voice is raw and guttural, he slams into me with enough force to rattle my teeth. “Is this what you wish for?”

“ Yes. Please, Jaromir.” I sob as relief floods me. He pulls back, and drives into me with a brutal force, and I gasp, clenching around him. His hands are rough on my hips, yanking me back to meet each punishing thrust.

“Tell me I’m still yours.” His rough voice grinds out between the harsh slapping of flesh, the angry sounds of our coupling.

Another sob gets stuck in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure and despair.

“Please.” His voice is so broken; it breaks me, too.

He doesn’t finish the thought, but we both feel it. Please. Even if it’s a lie.

“You are mine,” I cry out. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Jaromir makes a stuttered sound of pain, angling his hips to drive into me even harder, deeper. He yanks me up so my back is pressed against his chest, and the friction of his tunic against my skin reminds me that he’s still clothed while I’m completely naked. He pulls my head to the side, covering my mouth with his in a messy kiss. When we part, his dark eyes are all agony and pleasure-induced madness.

My release crashes into me without warning. Hurtling, careening off a cliff. I cry out, my vision blurring as the violent force of my pleasure steals the breath from my lungs. Jaromir pumps into me once, twice, before flooding me with his own end. It’s a commingling of soreness and liquid satisfaction.

Slowly, he lays me down beside him. When he withdraws, it feels as though he’s tugging at my heart before he flips me to face him. The expression on his face is utter wreckage—desolation and hazy pleasure. His cheeks are wet, and each breath is a labored effort. He pushes the sweaty hair back from my face, lingering upon my ear.

“My heart is yours. Always.”

That’s all he can offer me. Somehow, it’s both too much and not enough.