Dragonbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “You can feel them when you’re in human form?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. They ache whenever I think about what happened. Or if it’s going to rain. They never healed right.”

  “They didn’t get better when you transformed?”

  “Most of my injuries got better when I turned human, but I didn’t have wings in that form, so they stayed broken. I could feel them hurting, but I would’ve had to change into a . . . I would’ve had to change again to fix them, and I . . . I couldn’t do it. They were healing slowly, but I knew they weren’t better, and they hurt all the time. But after what happened, I couldn’t make myself take that form again.” Tears fill his eyes, and he rubs them away with the backs of his hands. “Not for over a year, and by then it was way too late. They were never the same. Maybe I could have flown, someday, but not after all that.”

  I put a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He flinches, but he doesn’t pull away. “Physically, I could have done it. I should have. And I knew. All that time, I knew it was only going to get worse, but I . . .” His jaw trembles, and he wipes at his eyes again.

  “I couldn’t leave the barracks. I know it’s not the same, but maybe it kind of is, because it’s not like I couldn’t walk. It’s not like I couldn’t physically go from one place to another, and everybody acted like leaving shouldn’t be any different than that. And maybe it shouldn’t have been, but every time I tried to do it—every time I even thought about it—I felt like I was going to die. I couldn’t have left. Not on my own. And you couldn’t have transformed.”

  He nods, but then he says, “I shouldn’t have been there. I knew what she was like, and how much she hated . . . hated when I upset her. She can’t stop herself when she gets mad, and I knew that. I’d made her mad so many times. I was always doing it, and I was so stupid, thinking she’d be proud of me for finally using my wings. But I should have known that she . . .” He sucks in a deep breath, fighting against the tears. It’s a losing battle, and he covers his face with his arms and sobs.

  “Wanting your mother to be proud of you isn’t stupid.”

  He’s crying so hard, it takes him a minute before he can talk again. “I just . . . I just reminded her of her shame. I made her mad, like I always do.”

  “You mean like you supposedly did yesterday? Because you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I upset her.”

  “By what? Existing?”

  “She has every right to be ashamed of me.”

  “Because you’re not like everybody else? That’s not your fault.”

  “I was born.”

  “So? I still don’t see how you existing is a problem.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. What I mean is, I didn’t hatch. I told you my mother got captured by St. Georges, and they put a dragon ring around her neck. She was pregnant with me when they did it. She should have laid an egg, but she was stuck in human form, and so I was still inside her, incubating.”

  “Gestating.”

  “Right. That. They kept that ring on her for months. She couldn’t transform all that time, and it drove her mad. It was cruel, what they did.” He shudders and draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “The ring kept me in human form, too. It made me . . . how I am. Eventually, she gave birth to me.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “My father finally managed to rescue us not long after. But it was too late for her. She never really recovered all the way.”

  “Well, that explains why she’s crazy, but not why you think it’s your fault.”

  “I know, but—”

  “You didn’t put that ring on her.” A St. George did. Someone I’m related to, even if I’ve never met them.

  “It was the worst thing that ever happened to her. It broke her. She said she wished they’d just killed her, instead of letting her give birth to an abomination.” He rests his arms on his knees, pressing his forehead to them. “My mother just wanted to come home and try to forget what happened to her, but she couldn’t, because I was a constant reminder of it. My father thought maybe I would still develop more, that in time I’d get better, since I was no longer bound by the ring. But I didn’t. And the whole clan knows what I am. They know what my mother went through, and all the ways that I’m a disappointment. She just wanted me to leave her alone, so she didn’t have to remember any of it, but I wanted her attention all the time. I was always bothering her and getting in her way. I made her worse. That’s why she hurt me.”

  “You mean when she tried to kill you?”

  He’s quiet for a second, keeping his face pressed against his arms and holding very still. “I mean all the times. But that one was the worst. I pushed her too far, and she just snapped.”

  “You pushed her too far? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Your mother’s insane. She should be locked up. You get that, right? She shouldn’t have hurt you. Ever. You didn’t deserve that, and don’t even try to tell me that you did, or that I don’t know because I wasn’t there. I don’t need to have been there to know how wrong it was. And you didn’t make her want to hurt you. If I ever hear you say anything like that again and mean it, I’m going to throw up. I’m seriously going to throw up—that’s how messed up that is. Your mother is insane. That’s why she did that stuff to you. And maybe she’s somehow not quite as crazy when you’re not around, but there is no way in hell that she’s ever actually ‘not crazy.’ If she was, she’d be at court, or she’d live somewhere normal, instead of down some creepy tunnel nobody uses. What happened to her wasn’t your fault, and just because you were involved in it doesn’t mean she gets to blame you for it.”

  “It’s complicated. She can’t help—”

  “She can’t help what? Being abusive?”

  “Being ashamed of me.”

  “Oh, don’t get me started on that.”

  “There are a lot of reasons why—”

  “No, there aren’t. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You can’t help the way you were born, or even that you were born, or how your parents feel about it. And if your mother has a problem with you existing, she can take it up with me, because I happen to like that you exist. Not that you need my permission, or hers, or anybody’s. And you know what else? I’m glad you were born this way, because if you weren’t, we wouldn’t have met. And you’d be just like any other dragon, and you wouldn’t be you, and I . . . I like you the way you are.”

  He lifts his head and studies my face. His eyes are wet. “Don’t say anything you don’t mean, Virginia. I can’t take it. Not from you.”

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. And I . . . I spent pretty much my whole life wishing I was like Celeste. She was always braver than me, and way more popular, and as we got older, it became clear that she had magic and I didn’t. Everyone treated me like that meant I was worthless, and it only got worse after my mother died. Because it was my fault for being such a dud. For just standing there while a dragon ripped her apart.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I nod. “I know that now, but only because of you, and I spent years wishing so hard that I could use magic and become a paladin. I couldn’t take back what happened, but at least if I could use the family power like a real St. George, then maybe everyone would stop thinking I was so useless. They’d stop ignoring me and treating me like I wasn’t good enough. And maybe my father would stop blaming me for my mother’s death, and he wouldn’t be ashamed of me. But being a paladin wouldn’t have made me happy. That seems obvious now, and I don’t even know if it would have changed anything. Everyone had already made up their minds about me, and I wouldn’t have been able to forget all the years that they ignored me and looked at me like I didn’t deserve to be a St. George. I couldn’t have forgiven my father for wishing he only had one daughter, not two. He never said it, not out loud, but it wa
s obvious he felt that way. And none of that would have disappeared just because I could use magic.”

  “You can use magic.”

  “And I’m totally going to rub that in everyone’s face when I get home. But that’s not my point. If I could have used magic all this time and had become a paladin, then I wouldn’t be who I am, either. And you would hate me.”

  “Virginia—”

  “No, you would. And you’d have every right to, because St. Georges tortured your mother, and they tortured you. And if I’d had magic, maybe I would have been one of the paladins who hurt you. Either way, we’d be enemies. Everyone at the barracks might think better of me if I was like them, but you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t like me if I was just another paladin, and we wouldn’t have met. So I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad I don’t have magic. Didn’t, I mean. And I’m glad you are who you are, however you got that way.”

  30

  THE BRAVEST THING I’VE EVER DONE

  It’s the next day and we’re outside. Odilia’s in human form, showing us her section of the community garden. Well, showing Amelrik, anyway. She’s mostly ignoring me. And who knew dragons had gardens? I mean, I wondered where they got the vegetables we’ve been eating, but I didn’t know they grew them themselves.

  “Do you still like radishes?” Odilia kneels down and pulls one out of the dirt.

  Amelrik makes a face. “I never liked radishes.”

  “Yes, you did. You ate so many you threw up that one time.”

  “That wasn’t me! That was Cedric.”

  She stands up and puts one hand on her hip, smearing dirt across her skin. The other hand’s still holding the radish. “No, it was you. I remember you threw up on my stuffed boar, Tuskerbristle, and my mother said I had to get rid of him. I didn’t talk to you for a week.”

  He grins. “Still Cedric.”

  “Who’s Cedric?” I ask. “And also, I like radishes, if it’s still up for grabs.”

  Odilia makes a point of chomping into the radish herself.

  “Cedric’s my cousin,” Amelrik says. “Odilia’s brother. He’s off studying the migration patterns of humans. Right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Odilia rolls her eyes. “He says he’s writing a book about it now. I can’t believe my father let him do something so frivolous. I can’t believe your father let him, either.”

  “But humans don’t migrate.” I think I would know, what with being one and everything.

  They both stare at me like I just said something crazy.

  “I just mean, it’s going to be a really short book. Isn’t it?”

  “But humans do migrate,” Amelrik says. “There’s a mass exodus every year during the summer. Especially in larger cities. Not everyone, but a lot of humans migrate west, to the coast, and then they migrate back once the temperatures drop again. I know paladins are usually stationary, but you really haven’t noticed?”

  “Those are just vacations. Because it gets too hot in the cities. Nobody’s migrating.” That’s ridiculous.

  He raises his eyebrows, still skeptical. “Anyway, it was Cedric who ate the radishes and threw up on Tuskerbristle.”

  Odilia sighs. “I wish he was coming home for Eventide this year. And that he could see me in the games. Especially when my team wins.”

  “Well, I’ll be there, and so will Virginia.”

  “You’re bringing your whore to the games?”

  “She’s not my whore. And yes, I am.”

  Odilia opens her mouth to speak, but then scowls at something behind us. I turn to look and see another dragon approaching. She’s in human form—there’s not really room in the gardens for them to wander around in dragon form; at least, not without smashing everything—and she has wavy, dark brown hair, sharp features, and kind of a bitchy look on her face. And of course she’s naked.

  “Oh, great,” Odilia whispers. “It’s Bryn.”

  The other dragon—Bryn—calls out to her in Vairlin.

  Odilia plasters on a fake smile and returns her greeting.

  “Are we speaking in English these days?” Bryn asks. She must have heard us talking, though hopefully she didn’t hear Odilia whispering about her. “Has your brother been gone so long he’s forgotten his native tongue and feels the need to clothe himself?”

  “This is my cousin, Amelrik. You’ve met him before, I think, when we were kids. My brother’s still studying abroad. And Amelrik insists we speak English in front of his human, for some reason.”

  “Well, if you’re her cousin, then you’ve been gone even longer.”

  Amelrik says something to her in Vairlin, I think just to prove that he can.

  She laughs, says something back, and winks at him.

  I want to strangle her.

  Bryn looks down at Odilia’s garden and gasps. “Odilia! What have you been doing to your radishes?”

  Odilia is cautious. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. It’s just . . . Well, they’re looking a bit small, don’t you think?” Bryn’s garden patch must be the next square over, because she gestures to the radishes there. The greens are really flourishing, and the tops of the radishes stick out a little from the ground. She doesn’t even need to pick one for us to see that hers are doing much better than Odilia’s, though she does anyway. “Maybe it’s just because I’m used to mine being so healthy. I wouldn’t worry about it. But if you’re ever thinking about giving up your square, let me know. I’m always looking to expand mine, and I promise you I’d make good use of it.”

  Odilia speaks through clenched teeth. “I’m keeping it.”

  “All right. But the clan depends on these gardens, you know, and I’d hate to think you’re neglecting yours or letting it languish. Osric tells me you’ve been practicing hard for the games. That must eat up a lot of your time, what with how much work you need to get ready. I hope you don’t slow everyone down too much—they’ll be so disappointed if they lose.”

  I nudge Amelrik, and we share a look.

  Odilia glares at her. “I’ve been giving the team pointers on how to improve their speed. I’m surprised Osric didn’t tell you that, but then again, we’ve been spending so much time together, I don’t know when he would have had the chance.”

  Bryn turns up her nose. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you at Godwin’s after-party?”

  “The after-party’s only for participants in the games.”

  “And their dates. Osric must be getting tired of having to spend so much time with you, because he asked me to go with him.”

  Odilia’s face falls. “He what?”

  “You might have him during the day, but at night . . .” Bryn trails off, letting us imagine the rest of that sentence, and smirks. “Now, I really must be going, but it was wonderful talking to you again, Odilia. And please do come to the after-party, even if you can’t find a date.” She gives her a little wave, then saunters off.

  “Wow,” I say, once she’s gone. “What a bitch.” She’s worse than Mina Blackarrow.

  “Yeah,” Amelrik agrees. “Don’t listen to her.”

  Odilia bites her lip. “She only wants him because I do. And now I’m going to have to see them together all night at the party.”

  Amelrik shrugs. “You could just not go.”

  “No way,” I tell him. “She has to go. She has more right to be there than Bryn does—she can’t let her push her out. And,” I add, to Odilia, “Bryn could be lying. Or exaggerating. Osric seemed really into you the other day.”

  She perks up. “You think so?”

  “Yeah. And if he actually liked her, she wouldn’t have so much to prove.”

  “Maybe I should go talk to him. Just as soon as I don’t feel like I’m going to murder him.” She flexes her hands, like she’s imagining strangling someone, or maybe sinking her claws in. “Except . . . if he knew I liked him, that might make it weird when we have to see each other during practice. But if I wait until after the games, it might be too late.” She considers that, t
hen says, “What would you do, Amelrik?”

  “What?”

  “If you liked someone, but telling them might make things awkward between you, and you’d still have to see them all the time, would you do it?”

  “I . . .” His eyes dart over to me, then away again. He swallows and looks down at the dirt. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  “It’s relevant because I’m asking for your advice. I really like Osric, and I thought he liked me. You know what? I’m just going to go find him. And then I’m either going to eviscerate him or make out with him. And Bryn’s radishes might be bigger than mine, but they probably don’t even taste good!”

  She storms off.

  I gape a little in awe. “She makes it seem so simple.”

  Amelrik’s quiet for a minute. He looks like he’s thinking really hard about something, but then he just says, “Yeah, she does.”

  “Maybe it is, though.”

  “Is what?”

  “That simple,” I say, and then I do the bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  I kiss him.

  31

  VERY MUCH ON PURPOSE

  Amelrik kisses me back.

  My heart races and my nerves tingle. I feel alive all over and invincible.

  This is the best moment of my life.

  Until he pulls away. “Virginia, wait.”

  Uh-oh. Did I say best moment? Maybe I meant worst moment. Maybe him kissing me back was just a reflex and he didn’t really mean it. I put my hands over my face so he can’t see how embarrassed I am. “I thought you wanted me to. I mean, I wanted to. I like you. And I thought you liked me, but I guess I had it all wrong. So please just forget I did that.”

  He touches my wrists and gently pulls my hands away from my face, so he can look me in the eyes. “You weren’t wrong. I like you. I like you a lot. But we shouldn’t do this.”

  “Why not?” It’s a stupid question. I know why not—I just don’t care.

  He tilts his head. “I’m the prince of Hawthorne clan, and you’re a St. George.”