Royal Rescue

by A. Alex Logan

  “I guess I don’t feel like you’re judging me for it,” Gerald said quietly. “You listened, last time. And you’re asking questions now, not to upset me or tell me I’m wrong, but because you want to understand. Right?”

  It was also easier to talk in the dark. He could see Omar’s outline, he could see Omar nodding as he spoke, but he couldn’t see his expression; if he couldn’t see surprise or shock, disgust or disbelief, it meant he could assume it wasn’t there. With none of those emotions present in Omar’s voice, either, Gerald was comfortable enough to press on. “If you look at my sailing metaphor—to me, it’s all the same. Not being interested in one thing or another thing, to me, it’s the same. It’s just how I am. The difference is that the world doesn’t care that I’m not interested in sailing. But it does care—a lot—that I’m not interested in bedding. The world acts like I’m saying I’m not interested in, in breathing. Like I’m not human, like it’s a problem that needs to be fixed. And it’s…it’s just how I am.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with how you are,” Omar said fiercely. “You’re right. I don’t think it’s that hard to understand. I mean, it’s unusual, definitely. But you know, there’s so much variation. Some people like men, some people like women, some like thirds…some people like more than one, or even everyone. Why shouldn’t some people like no one?”

  “But I still have to marry someone,” Gerald sighed. “And, you know, it’s not only going to be me who’s miserable in that marriage, not unless I can find someone else like me. And that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Yet being the key word there, I think,” Omar said. After a brief hesitation, he asked, “And… Do you really need to find someone like you or just someone who understands you?”

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t even know how a relationship would work for me. I mean, without bedding…what would make it a marriage?”

  “Well…your feelings. You can love someone without taking them to bed.”

  “But how do you know? How do you know if it’s love?”

  Omar shrugged helplessly. “You just know. You like being around the person, you think about them when they’re not there, you miss them. You think about what you want to say to them when you see them again. You want to be around them all the time. You want to talk to them, to tell them everything, to listen to them, to hear everything they have to say. You want to share yourself with them, to share a life with them.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that.”

  “Well, love, it’s rare. You have to look for it.”

  “Like Natali and Padma are?” Gerald asked sardonically.

  “Ah, well, that’s sex. That’s easy to find. Love is harder.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  GERALD WAS STILL thinking about their conversation the next morning. It had happened so late at night he could almost imagine it hadn’t happened at all, that it had only been a dream. My parents never understood or tried to understand. Neither did Lila, neither did Erick, neither did any of my family. Why should Omar be any different? Did he really say any of that? But the way Omar looked at him over breakfast made it clear he was thinking about that conversation as well. But it wasn’t something to be brought up in front of the others.

  The others, who were barely out of bed and already starting to grumble. It was early—the dragon was prodding them all to hurry up and eat, wanting to get underway as soon as possible. Despite grumbles about the hour, there wasn’t much real argument about it; with the Council lurking outside the border, they all wanted to get back to the dragonlands as quickly as possible.

  Mikkel stayed in his tent until the last possible moment and then stayed huddled under his cloak and hood. Gerald once again desperately wanted to say something, knowing how miserable the silent prince had to be. And if he’s this overwhelmed with six strangers, what is he going to do in the dragonlands with more than a hundred of them?

  After some hesitation—he still didn’t know what to say—Gerald approached Mikkel. He moved cautiously, not wanting to startle him, but he wasn’t exactly subtle with his limp and his canes; Mikkel heard him coming and looked up warily, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest.

  “I—” Gerald started. “Um. Are you doing okay? I know this isn’t so easy, especially when the others are in bad moods…and what Natali’s been saying. I’m sorry about that.”

  A series of emotions flickered across Mikkel’s face—surprise, relief, confusion, suspicion—before he schooled his features back into blankness. He shrugged or made a movement that might have been a shrug, a minute twitch of his shoulders.

  “Right,” Gerald said awkwardly. “I guess saying I’m sorry doesn’t really help, does it? But I wanted to say something. Just so you’d know…I don’t know. I would’ve liked that, I think, if in the past someone had told me the way I had been treated wasn’t right. Even if they didn’t fix it.”

  Getting no response, he gave Mikkel a friendly nod and then turned to pick his way back over to the dragon. It was early enough that a chill was in the air, and his leg was stiff with it. He hadn’t gone more than a few yards before a presence at his side made him look up. Mikkel wordlessly offered his arm and Gerald took it.

  “HOW FAR IS it to the dragonlands?” Robin asked after they had been in the air for a while. “The ground is going by so quickly… We must be days away from my tower by horse already.”

  The dragon snorted. “Horses are slow,” it said disdainfully. “But even at this speed, we are still several days away. The situation is not so urgent yet that I need to fly through the night, so…hmm…we will camp tonight and tomorrow night and reach the dragonlands on the third day, I would think. Weather permitting,” it added, turning its head to survey the encroaching clouds.

  “Don’t tell me we’re going to fly through the rain!” Natali said.

  “All right, I won’t,” the dragon said, showing its teeth.

  Gerald sighed. This is going to be a long day.

  Despite waterproof cloaks and canvas coverings, they all got thoroughly drenched by the rain. There was simply no way to shelter from it while flying through the clouds; it came in from every angle. Before long, everyone was soaked, chilled, and utterly miserable. At least everyone is too miserable to complain, Gerald reflected. A sullen, sodden silence had settled over them some time ago.

  But that was the one and only positive effect of the rain, and as time wore on Gerald stopped thinking the tradeoff was worth it. The cold rain was playing havoc with his bad leg, and he shifted so often trying to ease the cramps in his thigh and back that he nearly worked himself right out of the harness, and still he couldn’t find any relief. The discomfort ratcheted up into outright pain and the pain got steadily worse, no matter how he moved or kneaded at the tight muscles.

  Finally, gritting his teeth, he said, “Dragon? Is there anywhere we can stop for a minute?”

  “Anywhere dry?” Dion added hopefully. The bespectacled prince looked half-drowned and was blinking owlishly behind rain-spattered lenses.

  “I’ll look for a sheltered spot,” the dragon said. “I suppose it’s about lunchtime anyway.”

  There, Gerald thought. We’ll stop. I just need to hold on until then.

  It wasn’t long before the dragon spotted a cave and spiraled down to land, but it felt like an eternity. The others sighed with relief as soon as the dragon ducked inside out of the rain.

  “I hope the supplies stayed dryer than we did,” Padma said. “I want to change clothes.”

  “I’ll start a fire,” Robin offered. “Er, that is, if there’s any dry wood…” They looked back out into the storm and trailed off.

  “Get some wood and I’ll make it burn,” the dragon said.

  “Oh!” Robin blinked, gulped, and hurried away.

  Gerald was still slumped over the dragon’s neck, kneading at his thigh. He was only vaguely aware the rain had stopped falling on them. He was so thoroughly soaked it didn’t make much of
a difference.

  “Gerald?” Omar said softly. “Come on, we all need to put dry clothes on.”

  Gerald raised his head and Omar let out a low whistle. “Ras, you look awful!”

  “Leg’s all cramped,” Gerald managed.

  “All right, let’s get you down.” Omar quickly undid the harnesses and helped Gerald to the ground. His leg buckled as soon as it touched the ground and then he was lying on the cold stone. “Straighten your leg, you have to stretch the cramps out,” Omar instructed. Gerald wanted to curl into a ball, but Omar grabbed his foot and forced his leg to unbend as far as it would go while Gerald sucked in a ragged breath

  “What’s wrong?” the dragon was asking anxiously. Gerald closed his eyes and let Omar reassure it.

  Finally the cramps began to ease and he was able to open his eyes and sit up. Omar and the dragon were both leaning over him and he resisted the urge to close his eyes again. Instead he looked back at them and said, “I can’t do this. Not in this weather. I can’t.” His voice cracked. “I know we need to get back as soon as we can, but it hurts so much.”

  He hated the way he sounded: weak, pleading. But he knew it was the truth. He couldn’t do it. Not wouldn’t but couldn’t. He simply wasn’t capable of getting back on the dragon and going back out into the rain. He dropped his gaze to the ground, not wanting to see the looks of disgust on their faces. “I’m sorry,” he added softly.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Omar said. “I was too busy feeling soggy and sorry for myself to notice you were in pain. We should have stopped sooner.”

  “Your injury is still recent,” the dragon reminded him. “Even with your cousin’s spells. We have been pushing you too hard. You are not recovered and I will not make it worse. The rain slows me down anyway. We will not lose that much time by waiting it out.”

  Gerald closed his eyes again, but this time with relief. I don’t deserve friends like these, he thought, but he was too grateful for them to even think about saying so.

  Omar reached out a hand and helped Gerald to his feet and dug through the supplies for a pack of clothing. “Go put on dry clothes. Here’s Robin with the wood. We’ll get a fire going. You’ll feel better when you’re warm.”

  He limped deeper into the cave until he was far enough from the entrance that it was dark and shadowed and he was sure no one could see him. He quickly stripped, dried off, and dressed, wincing as he ran his hand over the still-twitching muscles of his bad leg but thankful at least that his back wasn’t sore enough that he needed help with his shirt.

  The others were all huddled around the fire when he rejoined them, even Mikkel, although there was a sizable gap between the silent prince and the others. Gerald knew as soon as he warmed up, Mikkel would withdraw from the group again. From the way Natali was glaring at him, Gerald couldn’t help but think that would probably be better for him. Why does she dislike him so much? he wondered. I’d think she would simply ignore him…it’s not like he’s picking fights.

  The dragon’s announcement that they would stop until the rain did was met with widespread relief. Dion even let out a small cheer.

  Gerald was torn between wanting to cheer too and feeling desperately guilty at the delay, no matter what the dragon had said about not losing much time. They were still losing some.

  He limped over to Mikkel, but the black-clad prince looked up from under his hood and shook his head. When Gerald didn’t move away, Mikkel did. Without a backward glance, he slunk away from the fire into the shadows of the cave. Gerald knew what it was like to want to be left alone, so he bit back the instinct to call Mikkel back over to the warmth of the fire. He let him go and then lowered himself to the ground, setting his canes next to him and kneading at the sore muscles in his thigh.

  I pushed too hard at the labyrinth and sleeping on the ground and flying in the rain isn’t helping.

  “How’s your leg?” Omar asked, watching him knead at it.

  Gerald shrugged. He didn’t really want to talk about it in front of the others, but even without an answer, Omar’s question sparked their curiosity.

  “What’s wrong with it, anyway?” Dion asked.

  “I got hurt,” Gerald said shortly.

  Rather than quash Dion’s interest, that vague answer seemed to increase it. “How? Were you a rescuer? Did a guardian do it when you were rescuing him?” he asked, nodding at Omar.

  Gerald blinked. “I didn’t rescue Omar. I wasn’t a rescuer.”

  “Oh, he rescued you, then? But how did a guardian hurt you if you weren’t fighting it?”

  “He didn’t rescue me. No one rescued me.”

  “But…if you didn’t rescue him, and he didn’t rescue you…how did you end up together? You’re both princes, right?”

  Gerald blinked at Dion and looked across the fire at Omar. Omar wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, but what does that have to do with—wait, do you mean ‘together’ like ‘how did we end up traveling together?’ Or do you mean ‘together’ like…”

  “A couple,” Dion finished. “Yeah.”

  “We’re… We’re not a couple. And I wasn’t hurt by a guardian,” Gerald added, hoping to change the topic, even if it meant talking about his leg.

  “What do you mean, you’re not a couple?” Dion sounded honestly bewildered. “You like each other, don’t you? And you share a tent…”

  Gerald could feel his face turning red. “We’re friends. I can’t set up my own tent with my leg like this, and it’s stupid to make Omar set up two when we can share. But we don’t—we’re not—we’re only sleeping. Separately.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I just thought…”

  Robin shushed Dion. “It’s too late to stop while you’re ahead,” they stage-whispered, “but maybe you should stop before you get any further behind.”

  Gerald’s face felt hot enough to rival the fire and he could have hugged Robin for their intervention. The princex caught Gerald’s eye and winked and Gerald gave them a grateful smile. Omar was still avoiding his eye.

  “Well,” Dion said a moment later, sounding a little more subdued, “How about this weather, huh?”

  THE RAIN PERSISTED throughout the day and the cave grew cold and clammy outside of the radius warmed by the fire and the dragon’s body heat. They all stayed close to the fire as a result, even though the tension Dion had inadvertently caused had never really died down. Omar still wouldn’t look at Gerald, who was beginning to envy Mikkel’s decision to grab his tent and some blankets from the supplies and ensconce himself away from the rest of them.

  But I can’t set up a tent and I can hardly ask Omar to do it now. He rubbed at his face, annoyed and frustrated. I need to talk to him, don’t I? Stupid leg. Stupid rain.

  Tired of Omar ignoring him and tired of the others’ banal conversation as they tiptoed around the tension, Gerald levered himself to his feet and limped away from the fire to join the dragon. It was at the cave mouth, staring out into the rain. Gerald squinted into the growing darkness, but he didn’t see anything that could have caught the dragon’s attention.

  “I’m sorry we’re stuck here,” Gerald said quietly. “I want to get back there too.”

  He sat and leaned back against the dragon’s warm side. It nudged him affectionately. “You have to be in shape to face the Council when we get there,” it said. “And if we showed up with you looking the way you did earlier, Calin would skin me.”

  Gerald shuddered to think of what the fierce piedling would do to him for disobeying her orders. “She’s probably going to take my canes and confine me to bed again regardless.” He sighed. “Maybe she’d be right to do it, too. I am slowing us down, no matter what you said before.”

  “The Council can’t get past the border,” the dragon reminded him. “Our rush is self-imposed. And if they do somehow manage to get past it, they’ll very quickly wish they hadn’t.”

  Gerald flinched at its predatory grin and unconsciously started to rub his leg. The dragon noticed. “Is it still paining you?
”

  “What? Oh.” He folded his arms self-consciously. “Not like before, but…yes. It aches. All my muscles ache.”

  “You shouldn’t be sitting on the ground. The cold stone isn’t going to help with that.”

  Gerald shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of options here.”

  “At least sit on a blanket.” The dragon lowered its voice, as much as it could. “You don’t need to make yourself uncomfortable on top of being upset.”

  “Who says I’m upset?” he asked, but he sounded petulant even to himself. “Sorry. You’re right. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s fine; I’m not the one you need to talk to.”

  “I know.” He rubbed his face again. I told him I don’t, I can’t feel that way. He acted like it was okay… I told him! I don’t want to talk about it again. “I wish I were a dragon. I bet dragons don’t have these problems. Maybe I should just stay in the dragonlands, assuming we ever get back there. Forget Andine. Forget being a prince. Forget people.”

  “Dragons have problems of our own. The neighbor’s gold always glitters brighter.”

  “Yeah, well, it would have to. I think all my gold is tarnished.”

  GERALD STAYED AT the dragon’s side, bundled in blankets, until it grew fully dark and the only light was coming from the fire. He had been semisuccessfully imagining he was alone, that it was only him and the dragon, that they were back in the desert, back before he had come up with this plan, before he had met Omar or any of them, before he had flown all over the continent and gotten his leg burned to a crisp. He could ignore the murmured voices and the incidental sounds of people moving in the background. But he couldn’t ignore Omar sitting next to him with a mug of tea.

  Omar offered it to him, and Gerald was tempted to ignore his outstretched hand the way Omar had been ignoring him. But the steam smelled good and his hands were cold, so he reached over and took it. He held it up to his face and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dark liquid. He looked away before he could catch his own eye.