Dragonbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “My vow. What, exactly, did I promise to do?”

  He suddenly gets real interested in a book on the shelf.

  “Amelrik?”

  “It’s, uh, not important. Oh, look. Here’s one for you. Start with this.” He hands me another book.

  This one is a lot thinner, with drawings, clearly meant for children. I think it might be the alphabet. “I don’t want to learn your language—I want to know what you said!”

  He stares at me. “You hear what’s wrong with that, right?”

  “You know what I mean! What did I promise?”

  “Just your, uh, undying loyalty and devotion to me and to Hawthorne clan.”

  “I did what?!”

  A bell rings outside the entrance flap. Amelrik motions for me to be quiet and tells the servants to come in. It’s a guy and a girl, the same ones who were here before. The guy’s carrying a large silver tray with a cover over it, and the girl has a pile of folded-up clothing in her arms. Both of them are eyeing me warily.

  While Amelrik tells them where to put everything, I sit down on his bed. Which is apparently amazing. The mattress is thick and full of down. The bedspread is velvet, and the sheets are a soft cotton. I flop backward and sink into the bedding. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this comfortable.

  After the servants leave, Amelrik sits next to me. “It’s not a big deal. The vow you took, I mean.”

  “Says you. I don’t go around pledging my undying devotion to just anyone.”

  “Yeah, but you made that pledge to me, and I know it’s not real. You didn’t mean what you promised—you didn’t even know what you were promising—so it doesn’t count.”

  I sit up, even though I kind of never want to move from this bed. “I pledged myself to you, and then you kissed me. So, what, they think we’re lovers?”

  “Er . . . More like that you’re in love with me.”

  Great. I’m really coming out ahead in this scenario. “And this has to do with getting Celeste back? Because I’m not seeing the connection.”

  “You can’t cast the binding spell, and I can’t . . . We have to be smart about this, because that’s all we have.” He looks me over. “Well, all I have.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We’ll go during the Feast of Eventide. Everyone will be busy eating and watching the entertainment, including the royal family. Your sister won’t be allowed at the feast. She won’t be completely unguarded, but it’s our best chance.”

  I’m quiet a second, taking that in. “And when is the Feast of Eventide?”

  “In a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks?!”

  “This is what I was talking about. You’re freaking out about the delay.”

  “But Celeste . . .”

  “She’s too valuable—they won’t kill her. And we can’t rescue her if we’re dead, which is what we’ll be if we don’t go about this the right way.”

  “But . . . Wait, so this Feast of Eventide, it’s just an Elder clan thing?”

  “No. It’s one of the biggest holidays of the year.”

  “So your clan’s having a big celebration, too, right? Won’t they notice if you don’t show up?”

  He scoffs. “My father has never allowed me to go. So, no, they won’t.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Everyone has to be in dragon form to attend. He doesn’t feel that I meet the requirements.”

  Ouch. “So you’ve never even been?”

  “Oh, no. I went to all of the feasts that were held at Elder clan while I was living with them. The Elder king doesn’t share the same opinion about me as my own father. And anyway, I was a guest. It would have been rude for them to exclude me.”

  “I think it was rude for your father to exclude you.”

  “It’s complicated.” He looks down at his hands. “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m pretty sure I do. Just because he’s ashamed of you doesn’t mean—”

  Amelrik inhales sharply, his whole body going tense. “My father doesn’t . . . He has good reason to feel how he does.”

  “But—”

  “Come on. We should eat before our food gets too cold. And you are not eating on my bed.”

  “I wasn’t going to. But really, Amelrik, don’t you think it’s wrong for him to—”

  “No, I don’t. And it’s really none of your business, so stay out of it.”

  23

  DAUGHTERS SHOULD GET MORE CREDIT

  It’s later that evening. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s evening, even though it’s hard to tell, underground like this. We’ve eaten and bathed—bathed, with soap!—and changed into soft pajamas. I lie down on the bed again, and if I thought it was comfortable before, it’s even better now that I’m clean and full.

  Who knew that running away with a dragon prince would have such benefits?

  I climb under the covers and start to drift off, only to be startled awake when Amelrik clears his throat.

  I open my eyes. He’s looming over me, looking pretty annoyed.

  He folds his arms across his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Not in my bed you’re not.”

  “I’m your guest. Guests sleep in the bed.”

  “I am a prince. Princes sleep in the bed. What if someone comes in and finds you there, and me . . .” He glances around, not seeing anywhere else to sleep. “. . . not? Do you know how that would look?”

  “No one will come in unless you tell them to, right?” I am so tired, and so comfortable—I can’t imagine moving.

  “Get up, Virginia. I’ll give you a blanket and a pillow. You can sleep on the floor.”

  “The floor? The floor is made of rock. I just spent the last few nights on the ground, and now you’re going to make me sleep on a rock?”

  “I spent the last few nights on the ground, too, and before that, I spent a week in a dungeon. Plus, it’s been six years since I slept in my own bed.”

  “Uh, you lived with Elder clan for that long, right? Your bed there must have felt like yours.”

  He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “That’s not the point!”

  He’s getting pretty worked up about this. I slide over so I’m only taking up one side. “Here. There’s room for both of us.”

  “That’s not what I . . .” He takes a step back. “It’s inappropriate.”

  “We slept closer than this on the ground that first night.” Which, okay, maybe was kind of inappropriate, but he didn’t have a problem with it then. “And everyone thinks we’re lovers, anyway, right? So if they see us sharing a bed, they won’t think anything of it. Or is there some rule against that?”

  “Well, no, but . . .”

  “Let me put it this way. I’m not moving. So you’re either going to have to sleep on the floor, or you’re going to have to sleep next to me.”

  “But that’s . . . It’s my bed, and you don’t . . .” He sighs. “Fine. But scoot over more. And this is only for tonight. And only because I’m too tired to argue with you.” He douses the lights, then comes back and climbs in, leaving as much space between us as possible.

  And even though it was my suggestion, and even though there’s plenty of room and we’re not even touching or anything, I am suddenly very aware that he’s a boy, and that he’s in my bed. Er, I mean, that I’m in his, but still. Sleeping on the ground sort of next to him was one thing, but sleeping in a bed together feels . . . intimate. Especially after the way he kissed me earlier.

  It hits me how ridiculous this situation is. A giddy nervousness builds up inside my chest, and then I can’t help it—I start cracking up. Really loudly. My laughter shakes the bed.

  “Virginia?” Amelrik sounds like he thinks I’ve lost it. A dragon, who’s in the same bed as me, is concerned that I’m crazy.

  I start laughing even harder—so hard that tears slide down my cheeks.

  Amelrik turns toward me. I can’t see him in t
he dark, but I can tell by his movements. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s just . . . the two of us . . . here . . .” I’m laughing so much, it’s difficult to get the words out. I force myself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. I still feel giddy, like I could burst out laughing again at any moment, but for the most part I think I have it under control. I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I hadn’t left the barracks in four and a half years. Because I was so afraid of dragons. And now here I am, in a dragons’ lair, in bed with one.”

  I start laughing again, even though Amelrik is silent, like he doesn’t find that at all hilarious. I think maybe I freaked him out when I said I was in bed with him—even though technically I am—but then he says, “Four and a half years?”

  And suddenly it’s not funny anymore. I forgot he didn’t know that. He saw me get freaked out when we were leaving the barracks, but he didn’t know how bad it was. He was the one person in my life who didn’t, the only one who treated me like a normal person, and I just ruined it.

  “The barracks used to be the only place where I felt safe. So I, um, just didn’t leave.”

  “What happened four and a half years ago?”

  I pretend I don’t hear him. “And then you and Lothar infiltrated it. The one place in the whole world where I was sure there weren’t any dragons, and you guys showed up.” And if Amelrik hadn’t exposed what Lothar really was, what would have happened to me? Would I be in Celeste’s place right now? Or would they have killed me when they found out I was a dud? “My father was going to marry me off to one of his friends. Someone old enough to be my grandfather. And everyone at that auction was there because of my bloodline, but this guy didn’t even have the decency to care about that!”

  “The nerve.”

  “He just wanted me to be his baby factory and pump out sons. Like sons are so great. I mean,” I add, “not that there shouldn’t be sons or anything. I didn’t mean you shouldn’t exist. Just that daughters should get more credit. But what I’m trying to say is, I was so afraid of dragons that I couldn’t even leave the barracks, but if I hadn’t run off with one—with you—I’d be in Lord Varrens’ bed right now. Maybe having to let him climb on top of me, and . . .” I shudder. This would have been our fourth night together, so it definitely would have happened by now. Probably several times. “If I’d married him, I could have stayed at the barracks forever, but I never would have felt safe again.”

  “It was your mother dying, wasn’t it? The reason you didn’t leave the barracks.”

  I hate that he guessed it so easily, but what else would it have been? “I watched her get ripped apart by a dragon. He was a vendor in the marketplace. We thought we knew him. And then, one day, he transformed and murdered her right in front of me. She wasn’t from one of the Families. She didn’t have magic. But I’m a St. George. I should have been able to save her. Celeste would have, if she’d been there instead. But I just watched it happen. My mother was screaming for help. I’d never heard anyone sound so terrified. And I just stood there, unable to move. It’s my fault she died.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “My mother got brutally murdered because I can’t use magic. Now Celeste’s in trouble for the same reason. Everyone back at the barracks knows how useless I am. That’s why they all treat me like that. Like I’m not good enough. It’s not like I decided to never leave the barracks again. Torrin thinks I did. That I could have left any time I wanted, if I just stopped being so dramatic. They all thought that. I know they did, even if they didn’t say it. But it wasn’t a decision I made—it just sort of happened. Every time I thought about leaving, or any time I got too close to the entrance to town, I felt like I was going to die. I couldn’t breathe, and I’d start shaking, and it was like I was standing there in the marketplace all over again, watching it happen. The only reason I jumped from that wall was because you dragged me. I was never going to do it on my own. And now you know how useless I am, too, and I . . . I wish you didn’t.”

  He’s quiet for a minute.

  My heart’s pounding. I shouldn’t have told him any of that. Just because I’m always asking him stuff doesn’t mean he needs to know that everybody hates me because I practically killed my own mother. I can’t use magic, and I’m not a paladin. I’m a failure as a St. George, and the only thing I could have possibly been good for was getting married and making more St. Georges, to do what I couldn’t. And what did I do? I ran away with a dragon prince instead. Like you do.

  “What color was he?”

  “That’s what you have to say? I tell you all that, and you . . . You know what, never mind.” I tug the blankets around my shoulder and turn away from him. There’s an ache in my throat. I never should have said anything. I don’t know what I was expecting. Even the people at home who care about me think that I’m a lost cause, so what’s Amelrik, who hardly knows me, supposed to think?

  “I wasn’t trying to change the subject.”

  “I can’t hear you—I’m asleep. I have another busy day of spilling all my embarrassing secrets tomorrow, and I need my rest.”

  “I’m trying to talk to you about something.”

  “And I’m trying to get you to leave me alone!” I flop over onto my other side and accidentally smash my forehead into his chin.

  “Ow.”

  “That’s what you get for creeping up on me and not staying on your side of my—of your—bed. And for being all ‘oh, what color was he?’ As if I care!”

  “I wasn’t creeping up on you! I was just trying to . . . He was light green, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Maybe around thirty?”

  “I guess. Something like that.”

  “Then it wouldn’t have mattered.”

  “What wouldn’t?”

  “Whether you had magic or not. The dragonkin from Rowan clan go through this, uh, hormonal shift around then. It makes them prone to violent outbursts, and they have to transform more often. It also makes them resistant to magic. The binding spell wouldn’t have worked on him. You’d need a really experienced St. George for that. Even Celeste’s magic wouldn’t have been enough.”

  “What?” I whisper it. He’s put this idea out there, this delicate, fragile idea that could change everything, and I feel like any sudden movements or loud noises might shatter it.

  “He probably didn’t even mean to hurt her. They’re required to spend a few years living among humans, usually in their twenties. It’s not supposed to coincide with the hormonal shift, but sometimes the shift happens early. Anyway, what I’m trying to say, Virginia, is that it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

  “You’d better not be making this up to make me feel better. Because if you are, you can expect a punch in the face. If I can find it in the dark. You know what? You can expect a kick.” Punches are for when the lamps are lit.

  “I swear I’m not making it up.”

  “But then . . . why didn’t anybody tell me?” Why did they all act like I was to blame?

  “Because paladins are ignorant. Knowing how to kill dragons doesn’t mean they know how we live, or that they even care to know.”

  “It wasn’t my fault.” I try out the words to see how they feel on my tongue. And I know I believe them because relief washes over me. A knot in my stomach untwists, and my whole body feels lighter.

  I could hug him. But, much like punching, it’s too dark for that. And being in his bed together is inappropriate enough without adding hugging to the mix. But I don’t know how else to say all the things that need to be said.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats.

  And I think how funny it is that I feel safer here with him, in a dragon’s den, than I ever could have back home.

  24

  THE MOOD-ENHANCING QUALITY OF SPIT

  “Close your eyes,” Amelrik says.

  It’s two days later, and we’re outside, climbing a steep hill. It’s the kind of h
ill whose sole purpose in life is to make me aware of just how out of shape I am. Sweat drips down my forehead and down the sides of my nose, and I can hardly breathe. Amelrik’s a lot faster than me, now that his injuries are healed, and he keeps bounding up ahead and then coming back down to wait.

  When I told him it was my birthday, he got really excited and said he had the perfect thing for us to do. I’d planned to spend the whole day reading—I gathered up a bunch of books in English from his shelf—and maybe I would have stuck to that plan if I knew he intended to make me go outside and climb this hill with him. Nothing could be worth sweating this much.

  “You want me to close my eyes? We’re on a hill.”

  “We’re on a cliff, actually. We’re almost to the top.”

  “We’re almost to the top of a cliff, and you want me to not be able to see?”

  “It’s not far, and it’ll be better this way. It’s not like I’m going to let you fall.” He holds out his hand.

  I’m still skeptical. But I figure I can open my eyes again if I really need to. I take his hand and let him guide me over the last ridge. I kind of cheat a little bit, though, because I peek down at the ground a couple times, just to make sure I’m not about to trip on anything.

  We get to the top. A gust of wind whirls through my hair and cools the sweat on my face.

  “Okay, now,” Amelrik says.

  I open my eyes and gasp.

  We’re higher up than I’ve ever been, overlooking a sparkling blue lake. The water’s so blue, it looks like a painting. Forest stretches out for miles in every direction. I can see some buildings crowded together in the distance, which must be a town. Puffy white clouds dot the sky, highlighted by the sun. I know I can’t really be that much closer to them, but it feels like I could reach out and touch one.

  Across the lake, on the opposite cliff, dragons spread their wings and leap into the air, or fold them along their backs and dive down into the water. I’ve always thought of dragons as lumbering and, well, beast-like, but there’s so much grace and skill in their movements that those words couldn’t ever describe them.