Dragon (18 page)

“Let’s get going. We should be able to fly as far as the Black Sea tonight.”

I have a thousand things I want to say and ask, but Ram’s right. We need to go.

“Can I try changing into a dragon again?”

“Do you want to be a dragon?” Ram asks the same old question I’m so sick of hearing.

But I’ve thought of something that might help. “Tell me how you felt the first time you changed into a dragon.”

A wistful smile peeks out from behind his beard. “I was four.”

“A little younger than I am,” I note when he falls silent.

“I’d seen my parents as dragons before. They were strong, mighty, beautiful. I thought there was nothing better in all the world, no greater thing. I wanted so much to be like them, to be able to fly as they did. My father thought I was too young, but my mother said if he didn’t teach me to change properly, I might do it myself some time and get into trouble, fly too high or get lost or something. So my father made me promise I would only change with him.”

Ram shrugs. “I’ve told you the rest. He held my hands, pressed his forehead to mine.”

As he speaks, Ram takes my hands, touches his forehead to mine, and I try to feel it—his excitement, the joy of a four-year-old who wants nothing more than to be like his parents.

We stand like that for how long, I don’t know, when I open my eyes enough to peek. Ram’s hands are still gripping mine. His arms are blue-tinged, his fingernails long like talons, tipped in royal blue.

And so are mine. My fingernails have grown long and sharp, and the flesh of my fingers is tipped in a violet hue of purple. I’m so surprised, I gasp aloud.

Chapter Eighteen

Ram opens his eyes.

My hands go back to normal, and so do his.

“I’m not a dud.” I’m panting. Wow, that is exhausting—and I didn’t really change, not much. “I was starting to change. I was doing it.”

Ram’s breathing heavily, too. He rubs his temples. “I was trying not to change without you. I’ve never transformed so slowly.” He winces as though in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Just a bit of headache. Did you want to try again?”

“Let me catch my breath.” It’s exhilarating, but also terrifying.

Maybe the terrifying part is why, when we try again, nothing much happens. Or maybe it’s because of my exhaustion, which seemed to erase all the sleep I’ve gotten in the last two days, and the meals I’ve eaten, as well.

And I didn’t even turn more than my fingertips. What would happen if I turned all the way? I can’t imagine.

That doesn’t help my fear.

So Ram changes, alone, and I climb onto his back and hold on tight, burying my face against his neck as he flies, my thoughts mournful as I wonder what lies on the other side of the Black Sea. But I don’t have to worry about the eastern shore of the Black Sea until we get over the Carpathian Mountains to the western shore of the Black Sea.

Ion said he’d be waiting for me there, that he’d help me if I need his help. And Ion was right about the secret Ram and my father were keeping from me—their plans to marry me to a dragon king. Vomit.

Too soon, we land, and I’m still undecided. The day is just beginning to dawn beyond the sea. Ram changes, exhausted, into human form, gasps something about going in search of food, and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

I’m not alone for long.

Ion peeks warily out from behind a rock formation. We’re in a remote area, on cliffs that jut over the Black Sea. It might be picturesque, but it’s also dangerous, with sharp rocks jutting up among the waves below.

I step toward him, hoping he can stay mostly hidden so Ram doesn’t see him. “You were right about my betrothal,” I confess in hushed tones.

“Sorry about that. For your sake, I wish it wasn’t true. But at least now you know.”

“Yes. At least I know.” In some ways I’m glad I know, but I also suspect that was part of what held me back and kept me from changing to a dragon last night. I was so close.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t decide. I’ve only ever wanted to go home, but…” I chew my lower lip. I can’t confess to Ion what I don’t want to admit to myself—that I have feelings for Ram. I don’t want to leave him behind. I feel safe with him, and understood, and even kind of happy. But if he’s going to be half a day’s journey away, and I’m going to be married off to some horrible lizard, what good will it do me to go home?

“It’s not the same as going back to being a kid, is it?” Ion gives me a look which I think is supposed to be sympathetic, but there’s something disingenuous about it, almost as though he’s trying not to gag on his own words.

“I didn’t expect it to be.” I shrug. “Look, Ram just went to find supper. He’ll be back soon.”

“We should hurry, then.” Ion takes my hands.

I freeze. “Hurry?”

“And leave before he gets back.”

“I never said I was leaving.” I’m tempted to pull my hands away from Ion, but I don’t want to start a fight with him. Not when I’m alone. He’s bigger than I am, and a better fighter. But neither am I going anywhere with him, not against my will.

Ion hangs his head. It’s similar to Ram’s apologetic pose, but at the same time, I’m acutely aware Ion hasn’t let go of my hands. He’s not squeezing them, but his hold is tenacious, nonetheless. “They’re going to marry you off.”

“That’s the plan, but—”

“We’ve got to leave before that happens. I can hide you where they’ll never find you.”

This thought is not comforting to me, but I don’t say so out loud. I don’t want him to think I want rid of him, because I know what happened the last time I tried to push him away. I’ve got to put him off, play for time. “Just wait, okay? We’re going to stay here for now and rest. I’ll talk to Ram. If I need your help, I’ll find you. Okay?”

Ion looks like he’s going to protest, to push his proposition further, but I hear Ram’s voice as he returns from the hunt.

“I wasn’t sure I’d find much, but I caught a brace of ducks.” Ram steps into the clearing holding headless waterfowl in both hands.

I glance back toward Ion, but he’s gone.

“Are you all right?” Ram squints at me. “You look flushed.”

“Fine. Tired. Need help with the ducks?” I’ve been glad to see Ram many times before, but never so palpably. Relief rushes to my head. Ram is back. Ion didn’t carry me off. I’m okay.

For now.

“Peel ‘em,” he says, handing me a fistful of limp birds.

I set the pile on the grass and watch as Ram demonstrates the process—holding the loose skin around the neck, then pulling it back, down the body and over the feet.

“It’s faster than plucking out the feathers,” he explains.

I follow his example, finishing up the last of the birds as he begins gutting and then roasting the first. The roast duck smells great, but my stomach is still churning from my conversation with Ion.

Ram props a sturdy stick horizontally between two rocks. As he finishes cooking each bird, he ties their feet around the stick to keep them off the ground. In short order, he’s flame-broiled eight ducks. “Eat.”

I take a duck and pick at it. The meat is delicious, and I’m hungry, but my appetite is ruined by anxiety.

Ram finishes off his first duck before I’ve swallowed two bites.

“What?” He asks me, tipping his face with concern.

The sun is up now and I can see his expression clearly. He looks tired, but also worried. About me? Most likely. Part of me says I should tell him about Ion’s presence nearby, but another part of me thinks they’ll only fight. Ram could get hurt. No, I took care of Ion for now. No need to start a fight.

And it’s not like I’m short on worries to confess. “I don’t want to marry the dragon king.”

Ram had bit into another duck while I debated what to say. Now he chews and swallows. “Maybe you should wait until you’ve been introduced to him before you make that decision.”

“Maybe I should have been introduced to him before anyone started making wedding plans.”

“He’s not an awful old lizard, or dinosaur, or whatever else you’ve called him. Don’t vilify him until you’ve met him. Would your father set you up with someone awful?”

“My father sent me to live at Saint Evangeline’s.”

“Ouch.” Ram stops gnawing on the duck and steps in front of me. He looks directly into my face. “Want me to tell you about him?”

“I don’t know. Mostly I want him to not exist.”

“Reserve judgment, if you can. He’s a very nice king. His people are quite fond of him.”

“Who’s he king of?”

“A tribe of Azeris. In modern terms he would equate more with a regional governor, but his kingdom is what it has always traditionally been. He and your father would like to unite those kingdoms under one family.”

“I thought you said dragons were fiercely territorial? They don’t play well with others.”

“Your father and your betrothed have decided to rise above all that for the sake of their people. They are neither ancient nor barbaric. But he is a valiant fighter, this groom of yours. Wise. Kind. He has a spectacular dragon-hoard of gold and jewels, including jewelry that would look very nice on you. He’s a generous man who wants only to make you happy.”

“And for me to bear his dragon babies.”

“To my understanding, laying an egg is far less painful than giving birth.” Ram shrugs. “Not that I’ve tried either. He’s a fine man, Ilsa. I wouldn’t deliver you to anyone less.”

Those words are too much for me—the tenderness behind them, the affection even. I hand Ram the duck carcass I wasn’t eating anyway, and step away from him.

I see a flicker of movement beyond the rocks.

Ion.

He’s watching.

Waiting.

But Ram steps after me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Your father only wants you to be happy. He hoped you’d find the betrothal romantic. Arranged marriages are an old tradition.”

“It’s barbaric.”

“According to that tradition, girls were given a choice.”

“I haven’t been given a choice.”

“I’ll give you a choice.” Ram bends down so that he’s looking me straight in the eye.

“What choice?” I can hardly get the words out. What choice is there, really? I’m supposed to bear dragon babies.

Ram makes a pained face and shakes his head. “Your father isn’t going to like this,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy. I can’t stand the thought—okay, okay.” Ram seems to be making up his mind, convincing himself of something even as he speaks.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with my dad.”

“I’d rather face your father’s anger than know I had any part in making you miserable. Here it is, then. This is the best I can do. If you’ll travel with me to your village, to your wedding—”

“Wait, when is the wedding?”

“The plan was to have the wedding as soon as you return to the village.”

“But when do I meet my betrothed?”

“At the ceremony.”

“What?” I take a step back, look about frantically, spot Ion among the bushes.

He looks ready to leap out to my rescue.

I wave him back in a moment while Ram has his eyes closed. Ram appears to be thinking, or trying to find words.

I know how much he doesn’t like using words. He’s so much better with swords.

“I will be there,” Ram continues, meeting my eyes again.

“At the ceremony?”

“Near the front. Your father will escort you to your betrothed. If he does not meet your approval, if you sincerely feel you cannot marry him, come to me.”

“Come to you?”

“I’ll be there, close at hand. Take my hand and we’ll go.”

“Go?”

“Fly away together. Run away together.”

“You’d run away with me?”

Ram looks at me with a look I can’t describe, a look that’s more than affection, more than desire. A look that says he’d face my father’s wrath for me, fly away from home for me, that I’m all he’s ever wanted, anyway.

I told you he was better with non-verbal communication.

I’m relieved, so relieved I can hardly stand up. And I’m happy. Crazy happy. Happier than I would have thought I could be, and I wrap my arms around him gleefully.

“Ilsa, no,” Ram cautions me, taking a step back. His expression is this weird combination of fear and guilt? Can that be right?

It’s only a quick glimpse. For one disoriented second I think he’s still being prudent, keeping me at arms’ length until he’s delivered me properly to my betrothed, but then I see his hands fly over his shoulders to his swords, and this time he’s shouting.

“Ilsa, no!”

I spin and reach for my sword just as the yagi fly at us in full force, their screaming wails reverberating palpably through the air. Ram’s back presses to mine as we fly into action, fighting as though we were born to fight like this, back-to-back, as a team.

But even as the first yagi heads roll, Ion leaps toward me.

“Come!” he shouts, reaching for my hand.

“No! I’m not going with you!”

Doesn’t he see? I don’t need Ion or Eudora. Ram worked it out. We have a plan—an escape plan. Something better than an escape plan. Ram offered to run away with me. I don’t care what the dragon king looks like. I’m going to run away with Ram and we’re going to be blissfully happy. So there.

The wall of yagi parts as Ion approaches me. Ram is surrounded—fighting, fighting hard. But even as I try to keep my back close to his, the yagi slash at me with their talons and rapier horns. They’re vastly creepier in daylight, if you can imagine it. Buggy eyes that stare, blank yet evil. Hands that are not so much hands as taloned insectoid claws. Spiny legs that look like they belong on beetles, not on men.

And worst of all, they’re pulling me away from Ram.

“Ilsa, come to me.” Ion reaches for me with one hand, almost like a gentleman offering to help a lady down from a pesky perch. It’s as though he’s offering to help me step unscathed through the yagi. But if he has the power to protect me from the yagi, why isn’t he using it?

He’s using the yagi to drive me to him, to drive me away from Ram.

“Stay away from her, Ion. She isn’t yours.”

“She isn’t yours, either, Ram,” Ion sneers.