The flame in his eyes was immediately replaced by anxiety, and he reached out quickly to clasp both of her hands in his.
“What is it, Jocelyn? Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shrugged helplessly, her heart breaking a little more at the fear in his gaze. She was paying for her moment of abandon now. They both were. She couldn’t blame him for assuming she would give a different answer, not when she had responded so passionately to his kiss.
“You know why I came to Valoria, Kincaid.”
“The marriage alliance?” The color drained from his face as he said the words, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re still planning to go through with it, after…after everything? I thought you said you weren’t promised to him!”
“I know what I said,” she whispered. “But Kyona needs this. Eamon needs this.”
“No.” Kincaid sounded appalled, and his grip on her hands tightened convulsively.
“It won’t be so bad,” Jocelyn said, trying and failing to speak lightly. “You were right, Kincaid, I’ll admit it. Valoria really is a wonderful kingdom. I think I could learn to be happy here. I can thank you for that. I couldn’t imagine feeling that way when I first arrived, but you’ve made me see the beauty of this place and its people. You’ve made me realize that marrying Prince Ormond and becoming Valorian won’t be so terrible.”
“If my contribution has been to reconcile you to the idea of marrying another man,” Kincaid said, his voice unsteady, “then I am my own worst enemy.” His hands were still tight on hers. “Jocelyn, you can’t marry Prince Ormond. You can’t.”
She met his eyes then, her expression uncertain. “If you’re thinking of what Elddreki said about my power passing to my children, I’ve given it some thought, and I think it will be all right. There were two of us born with the power. I’m only one half of a whole, and I don’t think that’s enough to pass it on. I don’t think I’ll taint Valoria’s royal bloodline.”
“Taint it?” Kincaid repeated, his eyes wild. If Jocelyn had thought his grip on her hands was tight before, it had become a vise when she mentioned having children with Prince Ormond. “You can’t think that’s what I’m concerned about.” Kincaid’s eyes searched hers, almost frantically. “Jocelyn, I don’t want you to marry Prince Ormond because I want you to marry me. And I hope our children will inherit your incredible gift. I can’t think of anything better.”
“Kincaid, stop,” Jocelyn whispered. The vision of the future conjured up by Kincaid’s words was unbearable, and tears were starting to her eyes. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind,” he contradicted with his familiar, beloved stubbornness. His eyes were still searching her face, and his voice softened. “Is it your parents, Jocelyn? Will they disapprove of you rejecting Prince Ormond?”
“No,” she said, a hysterical sound escaping her, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “No, they would move the whole kingdom to let me marry as I chose, provided they thought well of you as a person, and thought you’d make me happy.”
“Jocelyn,” Kincaid whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I will love you for the rest of my life.”
“Kincaid, stop,” Jocelyn sobbed, pulling away. “Don’t you understand? The fact that my parents won’t be willing to put the kingdom before my own selfish desires is why I have to be! Kyona can’t handle more controversy, more…more change. My father’s unconventional choice of wife is still a source of tension in the court, even now. And Eamon’s marriage, when it comes, will cause more than enough contention. We’re still reeling from the upheavals of the last twenty years, and if I made it worse I would never forgive myself. People would say my parents had no control over either of their children, that they’d driven the monarchy into the ground.”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I love Kyona, Kincaid. I want to do my duty as a princess. All I’ve ever been is a burden and a danger, and this is one way—maybe the only way—I can bring real benefit.”
“You think I don’t understand?” said Kincaid passionately. “You think you have to be a princess to understand duty? What you’re talking about isn’t duty! You’re talking about letting the prejudices and the expectations of the feeble-minded rule your life. Ruin your life! You have a power within you that as far as we know is unprecedented in the history of humankind! How can you say the only way you can benefit your kingdom is to marry into Valoria’s succession like a good little princess and satisfy a few stiff-rumped courtiers?”
“My power is change, Kincaid,” Jocelyn cried. “It’s the last thing that will help Kyona. Kyona needs stability—it needs Eamon.”
“If I hear one more mention of that selfish, entitled brother of yours—” Kincaid began, his eyes flashing dangerously, but Jocelyn cut him off.
“Don’t blame this on Eamon.” She spoke wearily, no room left in her heart for anger. “If our positions were reversed, he’d probably be the one trying to give up what he wants for my sake. But our positions aren’t reversed, and this is my choice, not his.”
There was a long moment of silence, during which Kincaid watched her, his gaze as unblinking as a dragon’s.
“You’re right,” he said at last, his voice quiet. “You’re the one holding back. This is your choice, not your family’s. And if I thought you were making it out of love for your brother, or your kingdom, maybe I’d feel better about it.” He gave a twisted smile. “Probably not much better. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I don’t think you’re making it out of love. I think you’re making it out of fear.”
His voice grew even softer, and the tenderness in his face brought tears back into Jocelyn’s eyes. “And seeing you afraid is what I’ve hated most of all since I met you, what I’ve tried most to free you from.” He touched a hand gently to her cheek. “But I don’t think it’s something I can do for you.”
“Kincaid,” Jocelyn whispered, tears welling over. “I said I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, with the saddest smile she had ever seen. “And I said you wouldn’t. It’s good for me to admit I’m wrong sometimes, I guess.”
He turned away, his attention transferring to Elddreki, and Jocelyn started. She had forgotten the dragon was there, a silent observer of this most intimate, most devastating of moments.
“Elddreki,” Kincaid was saying. “Given recent events, I would be more comfortable if you would stay with Jocelyn, to ensure no other dragons get the wrong idea about her power. But do you think Raqisa would be willing to take me back to the mainland?”
“I will ask,” said Elddreki. He took off with a flap of his wings and a gust that tangled in Jocelyn’s hair, still loose from Kincaid’s embrace.
“Wait.” She stumbled toward him. “You’re leaving?”
Kincaid met her eyes with evident difficulty. “We finished our quest. We found the dragons.” He gave a crooked, unconvincing smile. “You even admitted I was right about Valoria. I’ll readily acknowledge I was wrong about the eastern people’s superstitions. Now it’s well past time I should be back home. Elddreki will keep you safe. He even said he would take you to Bryford when you’re ready.”
“But…” Jocelyn’s mind was swirling frantically, panic threatening to claim her. Was that it, then? She had turned him down, and now he was just going to walk out of her life forever? “Will I ever see you again?”
“Yes,” Kincaid said quickly, taking a step back toward her. “Of course you will.” His eyes blazed into hers, and she lowered her gaze. “I’m not giving up,” he said, his voice low and passionate. “I can’t. But I’m not going to press you, either.” She chanced a glance up and saw that he was once again smiling crookedly. “I can’t force you to choose me. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. You wouldn’t really be choosing me then, would you?”
A shadow overhead made them both look up
. Elddreki was returning, Raqisa in his wake. Kincaid suddenly stepped close, pressing his lips to Jocelyn’s forehead again.
“But I wish you would choose me,” he whispered, his lips so close to her ear that a shiver went through her. “I wish it desperately.”
Then the dragons landed, and he stepped back, leaving Jocelyn feeling more cold and alone than she had in all her life.
“Thank you for everything,” Kincaid said to Elddreki. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for. And please—please—keep her safe.” The request was murmured almost too quietly for her to hear. Then Kincaid walked calmly over to Raqisa, without another backward look.
Wait! Jocelyn wanted to cry. Come back! I’ve changed my mind! But she hadn’t changed her mind, and she didn’t call out, just watched him sling his pack over his shoulder, and nod toward the yellow dragon. A moment later, Raqisa had seized him by the shoulders and the two of them were rising, so rapidly Jocelyn couldn’t even tell whether Kincaid looked back at her. In seconds they were a dot in the sky, disappearing west toward the mainland.
Jocelyn was left blinking, reeling, anchorless. Was it only a few minutes ago she and Kincaid had been kissing with passionate abandon on this very spot? Was it only a few minutes before that she had been seconds from fiery death? She had felt numb then, too numb for fear. But there was no numbness now, and the agony of the moment wrestled with her fear for the future in their attempts to rip her apart.
Heedless of Elddreki’s presence, she sank to her knees right there on the grass, letting the tears come in a silent torrent.
“Well,” the dragon interrupted her breakdown unexpectedly, “that was excellent!”
Chapter Thirty
Jocelyn raised her eyes, stunned, her tears arrested mid-sob.
“W-What?”
“That was extremely helpful to witness,” Elddreki explained brightly. “I think I’ve figured it out.”
Jocelyn blinked stupidly. “Figured what out?”
“Your blockage,” said Elddreki patiently. “The force that wrestles with your power whenever it leaves you, and prevents you from learning to control it.”
Is it heartbreak? Jocelyn wanted to ask. If not, I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Although, on reflection, she didn’t want to talk about her heart, either. She wished Elddreki would go away, but she suspected there was little chance of that. With a supreme effort, she pushed herself to her feet, trying to put her agony of soul to one side.
“So what do you think it is?”
“Fear,” said Elddreki. “You are held back by fear, just as Kincaid said.”
Jocelyn shrugged. It wasn’t exactly news. “Did you really only just figure out I’m afraid of my power?” she asked dully. “It’s quite a rational response, I think.”
“Of course I knew you were afraid of your power,” said Elddreki calmly. “That fact was evident almost from the moment I met you. But it is more than that. We already understood that you are afraid of the immediate effects of your power, of the damage you might accidentally do. But that isn’t the blockage. The problem is much deeper.”
He paused for a moment, thinking, and Jocelyn waited passively. It was hard to muster much interest even in such a crucial matter when she still felt like her whole world was in embers.
“It’s all wrapped up in mortality, I think,” Elddreki said pensively. “Fear for the future is not common in dragons, or at least, not in the dragons of my colony, who cannot die. In humans, however, it is extremely common, at least by my observation.” He brought his gaze back to Jocelyn.
“You, for example, have it in an almost overwhelming quantity. I told you before that the quality I was trying to identify would sometimes swirl around you when you looked at Kincaid. I didn’t think of it as fear, because you didn’t seem afraid of him in an immediate sense. But perhaps as affection for him grew in your heart, it increased your fear for the future because somewhere deep in your consciousness you anticipated the interaction I just witnessed. An interaction that seems to have brought you great distress.”
Jocelyn blinked sluggishly. It was all true, of course, but it was surreal to hear such crushing matters of her heart stated so unemotionally.
“So,” her voice sounded unfamiliar in her ears, “I can’t control my power because I have too much fear for the future?” It didn’t altogether make sense to her, but she supposed she was in no position to question Elddreki’s superior wisdom. Especially while she still felt like she had been metaphorically held under a jet of flame.
“No, no,” said Elddreki. “I didn’t say that. Just that it’s all wrapped up in your fear for the future. No, I think your issue is that you are afraid of change. Very deeply afraid of it.”
Jocelyn frowned, trying to make sense of it. “A lot of people are afraid of change, Elddreki. Maybe even most humans. Kincaid,” it was hard to even say his name, “is unusual in how easily he embraces it.”
“I can imagine a lot of other people are afraid of change,” Elddreki acknowledged patiently. “But those people weren’t born with the magic of change within them, inextricably woven into who they are. The effect in your case is that you are afraid of yourself, essentially. You are at war with yourself, unable to hold your power in because it is too strong, but unable to fully release it because you fear and mistrust it.”
Jocelyn didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t deny that for most of her life she had wrestled with herself, particularly in regard to her power.
“And you don’t just mistrust its effects, you mistrust its essence,” Elddreki was continuing. “You see it as inherently evil.” The dragon shook his head. “Kincaid pointed out once before that when confronted with change, you see only the bad, only the destruction. It is as though you are incapable of recognizing its potential. And in the same way you are unable to see what Kincaid could immediately see—your power is just as valuable as it is dangerous. Its potential for good is at least as strong as its potential for destruction. Especially if you learn to control it. Because you have a true heart, Jocelyn. You are a safe custodian of such a power, if you could wield it without hindrance.”
Tears started back to Jocelyn’s eyes at this compliment, which she couldn’t help but feel was undeserved. If her heart was really true, would she have denied it like she just had? Would she have put Kincaid through the agony she had seen in his eyes?
But Elddreki wasn’t finished. “All of this I had begun to understand as we traveled together. But I didn’t fully identify the problem until I witnessed you rejecting happiness, denying your own nature, simply because you are afraid of the change it will bring to your kingdom. You assume the change will be negative, because you are unable to recognize its potential to be anything else.”
The dragon gave her a penetrating look. “You are even, I suspect, a little afraid of the change it would bring to your life. I imagine you and Kincaid would be very happy together, and it’s not clear to me why you would be afraid to embrace a future with him. But if your fear and dislike of change is so deep, perhaps there doesn’t need to be a logical reason.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Jocelyn wearily. “But I don’t see how it helps me. I don’t know how to overcome my fear any more than the next person.”
Elddreki gave a guttural chuckle, his scales rustling as he shook out his shoulders. “I must confess, my intention in sharing my thoughts was not to help you. I am merely trying to unravel the fascinating riddle you present.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Not that I would be reluctant to help you, of course, if I could. It has not escaped my notice that you are in some distress. What would you like me to do?”
“Nothing,” said Jocelyn dully. “There’s nothing you can do. Unless you can turn back time and prevent me from ever meeting Kincaid.”
“Is that what you want?” Elddreki demanded. “Dragons do not change the past, Jocelyn, although you would not be the first of your line to ask us to do so.” Jocelyn looked up curiously, but Eldd
reki had moved on. “But there are other ways. Perhaps I can use my magic to clear your memories.” He nodded decisively. “I can do so now, and you will have no recollection of Kincaid at all.”
He opened wide his mouth, and Jocelyn could feel the magic growing inside him as surely as the flames had grown within the other dragon.
“What?!” she cried, putting her hands out defensively as she stumbled away from him.
A dozen memories flashed through her mind at once—the curiosity in Kincaid’s warm brown eyes as he regarded her by the fire in Montego, his blazing fury when he had been powerless to protect her from the gang in Thalia, the exhilarating feel of him beside her in the darkness of the cave, the sincerity in his voice at the markets when he told her she was beautiful. His absurd, wonderful, inexplicable insistence that her power was nothing to be feared, that she wasn’t dangerous. The way he had lingered over her hand as he kissed it before she left the mainland, a few short hours ago.
And more potent than all of them combined, the memory of Kincaid’s lips on hers, his breath unsteady and his fingers tangled through her hair, leaped to the front of her mind. It screamed for her attention, refusing to be discarded.
“No!” she cried, and her power catapulted out from her with the word, its trajectory feeling more targeted than it ever had. “Elddreki, don’t you dare!”
“No?” Elddreki paused, closing his mouth and cocking his head to the side. “You don’t wish for me to remove your recollections of our former companion?”
Jocelyn glared at the dragon, ignoring the pang that shot through her at the word “former”. “Of course I don’t! That’s an outrageous suggestion!”
“But it is clear his effect on you has been substantial,” argued Elddreki. “Can you deny he has changed you?”
“No,” Jocelyn choked out. “I don’t deny it. But that doesn’t mean I want to forget him!”
“Even though the change is permanent?” Elddreki probed. “Even though it is a change you did not plan, a change that is painful?”
Legacy of the Curse Page 39