Why, he wondered, automatically patting her back, do they always cry?
“I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn?” he asked, not knowing what else he could have done wrong.
Nicadilia lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes leaking like squeezed sponges. One side of her face cracked a smile, followed soon by the other. After twenty years of marriage, Angst had experienced his share of outbursts by Heather and knew how to turn this around.
“Or was it the eye contact?” he said, hoping it would continue to fend off the tears.
“No, Mr. Angst,” she said shaking her head, her pale blond hair flowing from shoulder to shoulder.
“So,” he replied. “You were going to tell me why you’re here?”
“You remind me of him,” Nicadilia said quietly, “so very much.”
“Of who, Your Majesty?” Angst asked.
“I had a lover,” she said. “He was a short man, like you.”
Angst winced. Really? Short? He reluctantly nodded for her to continue.
“I wanted so much for him to be my king. He was wise, and strong, and brash,” she said. “Then the dragons came and everything changed.”
“What did they change?” he asked.
“I can’t really say.”
She hesitated, guiltily looking down at the large ruby ring—identical to the one hanging from his neck—decorating her middle finger. The queen regent rocked the ring back and forth with her thumb, and his worry bubbled up through his chest. He was at the cusp of asking about it when she cut off his thoughts.
“He, too, could wield magics like you,” she stated, her eyes becoming glossy.
“And that was so bad?” Angst asked.
“Yes,” she said, despondently.
Angst bit his tongue, curbing his natural reaction to lash out defensively. He needed her, and holding her like this Angst felt it was time to stop being mean.
“What happened to him?”
“He left us,” Nicadilia said quietly.
She looked into Angst’s eyes, memories streaming down her cheeks. Angst felt her sadness, and momentarily pitied Nicadilia. He wiped a tear with the back of his hand, and she kissed his fingers. That gentle touch was like an invitation sent to the wrong person. Angst’s eyes widened as the queen regent licked her lips and kissed him. He met her lips fully, but every fiber of Angst, other than his mouth, wanted to pull back. He wasn’t attracted to this bigot in any way, physically or personally. His kiss was genuine, but his heart ached for someone else.
They stood, inching their way to the bed, awkwardly walking with entangled legs. Angst felt lost—he did not want to have sex with this woman. He didn’t even want to be kissing her, and had no clue how he would explain this to Heather. Angst was weak, and tired, and more exhausted than he should’ve been. When they finally, finally reached the bed, he collapsed helplessly. A heap of old man and exhaustion. She looked down at him with worry.
“I’m sorry...I...” She rubbed his arm. “You aren’t okay, are you?”
“It’s not you, I promise,” Angst explained. “It’s the sword... I’m dying.”
“No,” she said in shock.
“I can’t do this,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong,” Nicadilia said. “Will the sword save you?”
“Only the sword,” Angst said honestly, hungrily.
Nicadilia looked at Angst sprawled on the bed. He felt a helpless figure, like a turtle lying on its back. She fingered her ruby ring while vacillating between pouncing, or helping, or walking away. After endless contemplation, she held her hand out to help him up.
“You need the sword,” she said, “and I know where it is.”
43
To say Scar looked pathetic was like describing a murder as being only unfortunate, or a tornado merely unnerving. He lay as close to the fire as possible without cooking himself, his long nose tucked under a paw, barely revealing his eyes. The only way to tell if the puppy lived was by his shallow breaths or the single whiskery eyebrow that lifted inexorably in the presence of food. Every fifth or sixth breath the lab pup took was a sigh, another reminder of Angst that made her smile. Heather avoided looking at the scar along the lab’s side, which now appeared thick, wet, and red. Instead, she stared at his barely open eyes, sadly and fondly, avoiding the ruckus of Rook and Janda.
Rook paced the small room, and seemed on the verge of chopping wood once more. His cheeks were red, and stress-induced sweat leaked from his curly hair down the sides of his face. Every thirty seconds or so, he would stop and peer at Janda with a look that screamed “talk to me.” Janda would hold one hand to her ear, beneath her bright red hair, with the other hand raised to stop him from asking. He finally did stop, crossing his bulging arms and staring at her with wide eyes.
“One second, butter,” she said to Rook. More than a second passed. “Jaden says something’s going on at the castle he doesn’t understand.”
“You can talk to Jaden?” Heather asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Janda said with a nod, hoping Heather would understand.
“What’s going on?” Rook asked, his voice heavy with concern.
“A flag boy came back from the front. Jaden saw him in the hallway,” Janda said quickly, trying to relay the full message. “Alloria reported to the queen that there’s a battle and they need more men.”
“That’s good,” Rook said excitedly.
“The queen has ordered every soldier in Unsel to march,” she relayed to them. “But a man named Wilfred, an advisor to the queen, told her something isn’t right.”
“I know Wilfred,” Rook stated. “He’s a friend of Angst’s.”
“Wait,” Heather said dryly. “Angst has friends that are men?”
“Just a rumor,” Rook said with a wink.
“There was no seal on the document Alloria brought the queen,” Janda continued. “And the boy has gone missing.”
“That’s it?” Heather asked.
“That’s enough,” Rook said with a surprised expression. “Has he sought out the boy?”
“Alloria won’t talk to Jaden,” Janda said, shaking her head. “He’s had no luck.”
“I don’t believe the queen would accept an unsealed document so readily,” Rook said in disgust and frustration. “She’s never been the same since losing her eye!”
“There’s something else,” Janda said distantly.
Tilting her head, she stared at Heather, still holding one hand to her ear. Heather pulled and rocked herself to the edge of her cush-chair, knowing from the look in Janda’s eyes that this was a message for her. Janda nodded in acknowledgment. Rook had returned to his frustrated pacing.
“Angst is alive,” Janda said.
Heather’s breath caught, and tears gathered in her eyes.
“He’s not well, but he’s alive,” Janda said. “It seems young Jaden has been in communication with Victoria. They are at Melkier, and Angst feels Dulgirgraut is too.”
“Why hasn’t he bonded yet?” Heather asked.
“How do you know he hasn’t?” asked Rook.
“Scar,” she said simply, nodding toward the sleeping pup.
Rook looked from her to the dog inquisitively.
“Jaden doesn’t know why,” Janda said. “It seems there are complications with the king—and his daughter.”
“Of course there are,” Heather said with a discouraged sigh. “Is she young and beautiful, or do I need to bother asking?”
“Actually, she may be older than Angst,” Janda answered.
“Good,” Heather said wryly.
“It seems Victoria and Angst have been arguing. A lot,” Janda continued.
“Good,” Heather said once again with an inward smile.
Both Janda and Rook stopped what they were doing and looked at Heather in surprise. Heather shrugged indifferently, making Janda smirk.
“Can you ask Jaden to pass a message to Angst?” Heather asked.
&
nbsp; “Jaden doesn’t know the next time—” Janda began.
“Tell Jaden I will make him laugh himself to death if he doesn’t,” Heather snapped. “It wouldn’t be my first time.”
Janda smiled helplessly as she passed along this message.
“Jaden would be more than happy to ask Victoria to pass along your message, right away,” Janda said with an obnoxious grin.
“Just let him know that we,” she said, patting her pregnant tummy, “are fine. We’re safe with good friends. All is well. We love him. Hurry up!”
“Your message will be delivered,” Janda said.
“Also, let him know I expect to be taught how to do this ‘earthspeak’ the next time I see him,” Heather added.
“He would be more than pleased,” Janda said after several moments.
“Really?” Heather asked in surprise.
“No,” Janda stated. “But does he have a choice?”
Heather smiled openly at her new friend before resting back into her cush-chair. She looked at Scar, who sighed deeply, one eyebrow lifting curiously then the other, before the lab pup shut his eyes.
Rook had stopped pacing.
“You should go to Unsel,” Janda said.
Rook stared at her with wide eyes, surprised by what she’d said, yet excited she knew what he would ask.
“You’re nothing more than eye-candy here, butter,” Janda said slyly.
Embarrassed, he looked at Heather, who reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“But,” he hesitated nobly, “I promised Angst I’d keep you safe.”
Janda’s hands burst into flames. A small ball of fire bounced back and forth between them. Rook watched the flames dance from one hand to the next, mesmerized by her power.
“I think we’ll be okay,” she said, letting the flames snuff out.
“Right,” Rook said, deadpan. Magic always made him nervous.
“So get out of here,” she said with a grin that released him from his duties.
Janda stood and walked to him. She wrapped her arms around him and landed a passionate kiss on his lips, which he gladly returned.
He held her tight. “That’s why I love you,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” she said at hearing those words for the first time. Her voice suddenly became quiet and girlish, and she whispered, “You do?”
“You scare me and excite me. You drive me crazy and inspire me. You believe in me, and already you know me. How could I not love you?”
Janda melted into Rook’s arms. “I love you too, Rook.” She looked up into his eyes. “Please be careful.”
“Only a little,” he said. “Just enough to come back.”
On this, Rook took his dramatic leave.
Janda swooned, pressing her hand against her chest, holding her heart in place. Heather smiled, loving the moment and hating the loss of passion in her own marriage. It was beautiful and depressing all at the same time. She missed Angst—he felt so far away in so many ways.
Heather waited patiently as Janda stared at the tiled floor, gathering her composure. She understood what Janda faced. Was this the last time she would see him? How long would she have to wait before he returned? Would he be the same when he came back? Heather asked the same questions every time Angst left.
Eventually, Janda straightened and faced Heather enthusiastically, her smile wide and mischievous. “Let me teach you what I know about earthspeak,” she said excitedly. “Let’s see if we can figure this out together.”
44
Dallow shuffled his feet slowly, in spite of the young page’s assistance down the hallway. At a faster pace, his shoes seemed to find uneven tile automatically, making him stumble. It was his own fault—without the distraction of friends tending to his every need, his thoughts wandered. Dallow’s mind didn’t wander aimlessly, however; it sped through a maze of disconnected thoughts and lonely worry.
This injury had cost him more than sight, though that would have been enough. His work was everything to him. His research, his time at the library, his travels to learn more... The palace would have no use for a blind curator. Princess Victoria might be kind enough to insist Dallow remain, but he would be no more than a figurehead. The thought stirred his insides—a mixture of loss and pity smashed together in an apothecary bowl.
This would also be the final leaf off the tree of his marriage. His estranged wife would revel in the ultimate “I told you so.” She had already threatened to leave when he said he was headed out for another adventure. Dallow didn’t believe her, and mostly didn’t care, but he was a creature of habit and didn’t really want the marriage to end, simply because he believed it should keep going. She could handle his long hours at work, and tolerated his new tendency toward “adventures,” though she hated it, but wouldn’t stand or stay for a “cripple.”
To rub salt in his fresh wounds, his great reward for the sacrifice of his eyes, his face, and his looks would be loneliness. Angst, Hector, and Tarness cared, even loved him, but they were needed elsewhere. If Angst lived through this, if he actually got to Dulgirgraut in time, the adventures wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t just set the foci in the corner of his house and ignore the responsibility that came with that sort of power. Angst would continue maiden saving and dragon slaying, and Dallow would be left behind—they couldn’t possibly drag him along in this condition.
Another frustrating stumble brought his attention to the tile floor once again.
“Is this actually a tile floor or did you bring me outside?” Dallow grumbled.
“I, um, we are still inside, sir,” the page muttered nervously.
Dallow nodded and thought about Rose. He missed her and understood why Angst was so enraptured with Victoria. They were young, fun, beautiful and, most importantly, interested. They would actually react to teasing and flirting, or ask questions as though they cared. Rose genuinely wanted to know Dallow, and he missed that attention. He missed her large eyes, pale skin, and dark red hair. He, more than anyone, understood what Angst was going through—and wished he could convince Hector that their relationship was mostly safe.
The page sighed, and Dallow felt bad. He could only assume he looked like a monster and was scaring the boy. The last thing he needed to do was upset the only set of eyes available.
“You can ask me your questions, young page,” Dallow prompted. His voice cracked slightly, having been used only sparingly since the attack.
“Your princess told me you preferred to be left alone,” the page replied apologetically. “Um, how did you know I had questions?”
“You keep breathing like you’re getting ready to speak,” Dallow said with a smile. “And then you sigh.”
“Oh. I thought it was magics,” he said with some disappointment. “Was it dragons, sir?”
“Yes,” Dallow said simply.
“You look healed, sort of,” the boy said in confusion. “Does it hurt, sir?”
“Less each day,” Dallow said with a wince as he rubbed under the blue blindfold covering both eyes. “Mostly it itches.”
“Eeuw,” the young page said in wonder. “Please, one moment, sir. We are approaching stairs.”
Dallow stopped as the page let go of his arm to walk around to his other side. The page then inched Dallow toward the wall and forward to grasp a railing. They made their way down the stairs relatively quickly with the additional reinforcement, but Dallow stumbled at the bottom and fell to a knee when he tried to take a step that wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the young man said, hurrying to help Dallow up. “I didn’t mean...”
“It’s fine, I’m okay,” Dallow said, mostly embarrassed. “I was a little overconfident, is all. At least now I know how many steps there are.”
“How is that?” the page asked excitedly.
“Counting is the only way I’ll find my way around, until I figure out something else,” Dallow explained. “Two hundred and thirty seven baby steps down the hallway, and twenty-eight stairs in this s
tairway.”
“Oh,” the boy replied in disappointment. “So it’s not magics.”
“Are you not afraid of magic?” Dallow asked.
“No!” the page said proudly. “Well, yes. Sort of.” There was another moment of hesitation then, “Can I tell you a secret?” The boy’s voice fell into a whisper. “My uncle could make rain. He was killed by the Rehmans’ Charge.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Dallow said, gripping the young man’s shoulder.
“It happened several months ago,” the page said sadly. “He was nice to me, and his rain helped a lot of people.”
“Magic is like any tool or weapon,” Dallow said. “It can be used for good, or for evil.”
At this, the page went quiet, tilting his head at Dallow’s thoughtful words.
“Are we almost to the library?” Dallow asked.
“Almost,” the young man said. “I’m sorry, sir, but you said I could ask questions...”
“Please, call me Dallow,” he offered. “Go ahead.”
“Mr. Dallow,” the page said. “Why does a blind man need to go to the library?”
“I’m not sure,” Dallow replied sincerely.
They shuffled for ten long, dark minutes before stopping at the entrance to an enormous library. Dallow took in a deep breath of books and ink, and genuinely smiled for the first time in days. Even without seeing the bindings or the parchment or the printed word, there was a comfort in the smell.
“We’re here,” Dallow said in relief.
“How did you know?” the page asked.
“Please take me to a chair, preferably one in front of a table,” Dallow asked, ignoring the question. “And bring me a book.”
The young man helped him to a giant desk with a chair, and Dallow fumbled his way into the seat. After positioning himself, he placed both hands on the desk reverently and waited.
“What, um, what sort of book would you like?” the young man asked.
“Well, let’s start with what I came for.” Dallow removed the blindfold, exposing his eye sockets. “Bring me books on dragons.”
The page choked at the sight of Dallow’s scarred face and scurried off. Dallow hated taking the blindfold off—he knew it would scare the boy—but the princess’s kerchief was distracting. His scars already itched, and the perfumed cloth tickled his skin.
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