“Hm,” said Elddreki thoughtfully. “It sounds like a reasonable request, but I suspect that our estimation of what is relevant to our quest may differ.” He paused, but Jocelyn remained silent, thinking that it was all too likely. “For example,” Elddreki continued, “I would not have thought that this young man’s pursuit was of particular relevance. If I thought he had the capacity to impede our efforts, I would not have allowed him to follow us.”
“I have no desire to impede you, mighty beast,” said Kincaid quickly, but he stopped at Jocelyn’s poorly stifled snort of laughter.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “But you sounded like a quester. You can just call him Elddreki.” She looked up at the dragon. “Can’t he?”
“Certainly.” Elddreki inclined his head in Kincaid’s direction. “And what shall I call you? Jocelyn has informed me that she would prefer to be called by her name rather than the greeting more traditional to dragonkind.”
“He kept calling me ‘daughter of kings’ every five seconds,” Jocelyn muttered in response to Kincaid’s inquiring look. His grin told her that he knew her well enough already to have a pretty good idea of how she would feel about that.
“Do you share the same preference?” the dragon was continuing.
“Yes,” responded the Valorian. “My name is Kincaid, and I would be honored for you to use it.”
The dragon again inclined his head graciously. “Very well, Kincaid. I believe you were speaking.”
“Thank you,” said Kincaid quickly. “I only wanted to say that I didn’t follow you in order to cause you any mischief. But I saw Jocelyn leave Montego, and I wanted to ensure that she was safe.”
“He’s telling the truth,” said Jocelyn quickly. “He came to my rescue in that town over there.” She indicated with a tilt of her head. “I’m afraid I ran into some trouble trying to barter for food, and if Kincaid hadn’t showed up, well…I’m not sure I would be here to meet you.”
“Of course he’s telling the truth,” said Elddreki, sounding surprised. “It’s evident. Can you truly not tell when someone’s lying, even another human?”
“Uh…” Jocelyn wasn’t sure how to respond. As was so often the case, Elddreki had shown the most interest in the part of Jocelyn’s speech that she had considered to be of least importance. “Not always.”
“Incredible,” mused Elddreki. “That must be why humans lie to one another so often. You can get away with it. I knew, of course, that humans can’t tell whether dragons are telling the truth.” He chuckled softly, talking as if to himself. “Your poor father certainly believed my deception when I told him that he must forfeit his life to save your mother. It was fascinating to watch his responses.”
Jocelyn knew the story well, and wasn’t interested in distractions, but Kincaid looked intrigued.
“Can dragons tell if another dragon is lying to them?” he asked, his curious tone very similar to the one Jocelyn had come to expect from Elddreki.
“Dragons do not lie to each other,” said Elddreki simply. He turned to Jocelyn, apparently done for the moment with that train of thought. “But did you say that you ran into trouble in the town? That without Kincaid’s intervention, you would not have been here to greet me?”
Jocelyn nodded, and Elddreki frowned.
“Previous conversation between us leads me to suspect that you mean more than your words imply. Are you saying that you would have been detained in the village, or that you would be dead?”
Jocelyn shrugged, uncomfortable. “I would at least have been detained. It’s quite likely that I would be dead.”
Elddreki let out a long exhale, but when he spoke his voice held frustration rather than concern. “How absurd it is! You are more frail than I would ever have imagined. How are you to fulfill your promise to aid me in my quest if you’re liable to die any time you get lost in the mountains, or have to swim any great distance, or even are left to interact with your kind without my presence? How did you survive from your birth until the present time?”
Jocelyn resisted the urge to again rub her eyes. “Well, I’m a princess, so I’ve been pretty carefully looked after. But honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever come close to dying before the last few days. It’s not as frequent an occurrence as you think.” She sighed. “But perhaps I am woefully incapable. It is a bit humiliating that I ran into trouble the moment I was left alone.”
“Of course you’re not incapable!” interjected Kincaid, speaking to Jocelyn but still looking at Elddreki. At the dragon’s last speech, his expression of awe had rapidly disappeared, and now he simply looked unimpressed. “Anyone would be at risk wandering around this part of the kingdom alone, let alone a woman and a foreigner.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the dragon. “It should have been obvious that it was irresponsible to send Jocelyn into town by herself late at night.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Jocelyn hastily. “It’s my own fault I ran into trouble. I’m very grateful to you for helping me out of the mess I got into, and now I’ll be wiser next time. No harm done.”
“Irresponsible?” repeated Elddreki, disregarding Jocelyn’s speech. She was relieved to see that although he was clearly intrigued, he didn’t look offended. “Do you think I should be responsible for Jocelyn? Why? Because we’re traveling together, and I’m stronger and infinitely more capable?”
“Well…” Kincaid looked a little taken aback at this phrasing of the matter. “Yes, I suppose.”
“So much for me not being incapable,” muttered Jocelyn, but no one seemed to be listening to her.
“What an interesting perspective,” Elddreki mused. “I wonder if that’s what was behind his comments also.”
“Whose comments?” Jocelyn frowned, but Elddreki was once again looking at Kincaid, his head tilted to the side in a familiar gesture.
“But you intervened on her behalf? You evidently felt responsible, but why?” He thought for a moment. “Jocelyn and I were just speaking about the protective instincts humans feel for their young. She said her parents feel protective toward her because they see her as little more than a child. I see that you’re older than Jocelyn. Is that why you felt an instinct to protect her? Are you old enough to be her father? I wouldn’t have thought so, but I may be mistaken.”
“What?” said Kincaid, clearly startled. “Of course I’m not old enough to be her father! I’m only twenty-one! And Jocelyn is most certainly not a child.”
“Then why did you intervene?”
“Well, I…” Kincaid seemed nonplussed, and Jocelyn sympathized with him. It was surprisingly difficult to explain to the dragon things that would be inherently obvious to any human. “I didn’t want harm to come to her. It’s just the right thing…the chivalrous thing to do. I think any basically decent man would do the same.”
“Any man?” Elddreki repeated, frowning. “You’re saying human men feel protective toward human women? I have observed that, but I thought it was generally only when—”
“I think we’ve had enough discussion about the workings of the human mind for one night,” Jocelyn interrupted firmly. She had a feeling she knew where the conversation was going, and she didn’t think either human would welcome its direction. Poor Kincaid was already beginning to look uncomfortable. “We were just about to leave, actually. We think it might not be a good idea to sleep so close to the town.”
Elddreki looked around. “But this seems a pleasant place to rest. Why would it not be a good idea to sleep here?”
“Well, like I said,” Jocelyn explained patiently, “I ran into some trouble in that village. Some of the men might…bother us…if we stay so nearby.”
“Do you think so?” asked Elddreki skeptically, settling himself into a comfortable position on the pebble-strewn bank of the river, the tip of his tail dangling into the water. “I shouldn’t imagine they would bother us.”
Jocelyn sighed. She was tempted to point out that while it might not bother a dragon, it would bother her very much if
a horde of angry and drunken villagers descended on her while she slept, bent on stripping her person of anything of value. And she had little reason to feel confident that Elddreki would take it on himself to protect her. Maybe if she explicitly asked him.
“It is a fairly exposed location,” Elddreki mused, and for a moment Jocelyn was hopeful that he would agree to move. But his next words dispelled the illusion. “I don’t think it’s likely to rain, but it would be unpleasant if it did.”
“Your scales don’t keep out the rain?” Kincaid asked curiously, apparently distracted from the question of their security.
“They do,” Elddreki said comfortably. “But the constant noise of the raindrops on my scales is irritating.” He squinted at the sky. “Best to play it safe.” With that, he opened his mouth, his jaws moving strangely as he released a huff of smoke. It formed a perfect ring, expanding as it stretched out from him. Jocelyn watched in amazement as the smoke ring settled in a perimeter around the three companions, retaining a solidity that shouldn’t have been possible for smoke.
“Will it protect us?” she asked.
Elddreki nodded serenely. “It will keep out the rain.”
Jocelyn and Kincaid exchanged a look. “But what about, you know…attackers?” the Valorian prompted.
Elddreki tilted his head. “You mean human attackers? It won’t have any effect on them. What need would a dragon have for such protection?”
Kincaid opened his mouth, presumably to remind Elddreki that not all members of their party were dragons, but Jocelyn shook her head slightly.
She suspected that there was little to be gained by pushing the point. Elddreki was curled up like a cat, ready for sleep, and clearly considered the matter settled. He was so large that he was only partially concealed by the rocky outcrop behind which they had taken refuge.
She risked a glance at Kincaid, and saw that the Valorian was watching Elddreki as well, his forehead once again creased with concern. His eyes flicked to Jocelyn.
“Well, if you’re determined to sleep here, perhaps I’ll stand guard for a while,” he said. He had clearly reached the same conclusion she had earlier, about the uncertain chance of Elddreki stepping in during a crisis.
“Nonsense,” she said quickly. “If you’ve been following us since Montego, you must be as tired as I am. You need to sleep as well.”
Elddreki had closed his eyes, but at this exchange he opened one again. “You intend to remain with us through the night?” he asked, directing the question to Kincaid. “Are you requesting to stay with us as we travel and join our quest?”
“Oh.” Kincaid hesitated, clearly thrown by the question. It was obvious to Jocelyn that he had just assumed that having caught up and revealed himself to them, he would continue on in their journey. His gaze again flicked to her. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Well, then.” Elddreki shifted, his scales rustling as he snaked his neck toward Kincaid. He remained reclined, but he still had no difficulty bringing his reptilian head to the level of Kincaid’s face. The young human stood still as a stone while the dragon leaned alarmingly close. Elddreki pulled in a long slow inhale, during the course of which his head passed down and back up Kincaid’s body twice. Then he pulled his head back and gave a tight nod, apparently pleased with the result of this examination.
“Yes,” he said placidly. “You may join us, young wanderer.”
“Thank you,” said Kincaid, after a moment’s expectant silence.
“And you should not stand guard. Jocelyn is right that you are tired, and should sleep. Otherwise you may delay us in our travels tomorrow. And while there is no urgency to our errand, Jocelyn is in a hurry, as was her father before her. And most humans, it seems.” Elddreki voiced the last comment musingly, apparently as an afterthought, before laying his head back down on his front feet, which were crossed.
Jocelyn uttered a faint splutter of protest at what she considered a very unfair accusation, but she didn’t bother to argue with the dragon. What was the point? Instead she turned to Kincaid, who was grinning at her with a knowing sparkle in his eye.
“So it seems you passed the test,” she said quietly, giving a small smile of response in spite of herself.
“Apparently,” said Kincaid cheerfully, also keeping his voice low.
It was probably silly, Jocelyn reflected, given Elddreki’s comments about the superior hearing of dragons. But she continued to speak in a whisper. It made the conversation feel more personal somehow.
“Don’t think you can get away with ignoring his instructions, though. You need to sleep, same as the rest of us.”
Kincaid frowned thoughtfully as he glanced toward the dragon. “But what if some men do come looking for us?”
Jocelyn shrugged. “We’ll stay close to Elddreki, obviously.” She glanced up at the smoke still hovering around them, and shot Kincaid a grin. “Within his useless ring of non-protection.”
But Kincaid didn’t chuckle. “Unless he takes off again.” His whisper had become a mutter.
“I don’t think he’ll do that,” she said reassuringly. “Not without telling us.”
Kincaid didn’t respond, but he did begin to ready himself for sleep. As casually as he moved, Jocelyn didn’t miss the fact that he waited until she had settled for the night before lying down himself, or that he placed himself between her and the village, so that she found herself safely ensconced between Elddreki and Kincaid. The thought warmed her as much as a campfire would have done. She was still feeling its glow when a whisper came drifting through the darkness.
“Goodnight, daughter of kings.”
With her back safely to the Valorian, Jocelyn allowed herself a secret smile.
“Goodnight, young wanderer.”
Chapter Eleven
The expected attack came about an hour before dawn.
Although Elddreki had seemed to fall instantly into sleep upon closing his eyes, and Kincaid’s deep breathing suggested he wasn’t far behind, Jocelyn had lain awake for some time. She had passed probably the most eventful day of her life, and her mind kept jumping erratically from one dramatic incident to another.
And then there was the issue of Kincaid.
She had evaded him in Montego because he was alarmingly perceptive. She knew he’d probably followed her because he was determined to uncover the secret behind her strange behavior. The trouble was that even as her head told her Kincaid was a threat, her heart couldn’t deny his appeal. She’d been attracted to him on first meeting. How much more so after he’d come heroically to her rescue! But for all he made her feel safe, his nearness actually put her—and by extension Eamon—in greater danger than ever.
Nevertheless, it was the attraction as much as the risk that made it hard to sleep. Her eyes might be fixed on the heaving flanks of the dragon in front of her, watching the way the moonlight edged his scales in silver, but the steady breathing of the very human man behind her drew her attention much more potently.
As Kyona’s only princess, she was probably the most closely chaperoned girl in her kingdom. She hadn’t slept in the same room as a male since childhood, and even then it was only ever Eamon, or Lucy’s brothers. The presence of Elddreki kept the current sleeping arrangements from feeling intimate, but it was still both alarming and exciting.
With this bewildering cycle of thoughts, Jocelyn was sure she would never be able to drift into sleep. Her first realization of her error was when she was startled awake by a hand over her mouth.
The instinct to cry out was quickly stifled as she recognized Kincaid in the semi-darkness. He held a finger to his lips and waited for her to nod before releasing her. Her skin tingled strangely where his hand had rested.
Glancing over, she saw Elddreki still sleeping, but now she was awake, she could hear what had roused Kincaid. The sound of voices, and shuffling feet, apparently trying to be stealthy. Kincaid drew his sword slowly and silently, and Jocelyn retrieved her dagger as well.
Kincaid positi
oned himself just behind the rocky outcrop, and Jocelyn had to admire his accuracy in judging the moment the approaching men would round the corner. He sprang into action a second before the first villager appeared, and the man’s startled oath was cut off as the hilt of Kincaid’s sword caught him neatly under the chin, knocking him senseless.
The next man rushed forward with a shout. He clearly hadn’t even noticed the ring of smoke still lingering around them, let alone been obstructed by it. He was brandishing a jagged and lethal-looking knife, but Kincaid flicked it from the villager’s hand easily with his own blade. Jocelyn couldn’t help but be impressed as she watched Kincaid in action. He moved with a deliberate calm, his actions graceful and controlled.
But in another moment the rest of the group had appeared around the outcrop, and her admiration turned to alarm. There were so many of them—Kincaid couldn’t take them all on alone. She turned to rouse Elddreki, only to discover that there was no need. The dragon had finally been woken by the sounds of conflict.
He pushed himself slowly but fluidly to his feet, and even in the darkness, the movement drew the attention of every one of the villagers who remained conscious. Startled screams split the air, and all sounds of fighting stopped.
“Is that—?!”
“It’s a dragon!”
“Do we kill it?”
Jocelyn rolled her eyes at that last one. Was the man still drunk from the evening’s revels, or just stupid?
Elddreki seemed oblivious to the reaction he was creating. He stretched in an unhurried way, reaching his neck up to its full height and extending his head before giving it a rapid shake, like a dog flicking off water. He then did the same rattling shake of his scaled body that Jocelyn had seen him do once before, lifting his wings slightly as the ripple passed over his midsection. Finally he opened his cavernous jaws wide in a yawn, giving his head one final small shake for good measure. Then he turned his attention to the group of frozen humans standing in the chill pre-dawn light, staring at him in unmasked terror, and widened his eyes slightly, as if asking what they were waiting for.
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