If I really thought we were, I wouldn’t be going through with this. Not that we have much choice, though. It would take way too long to get there on foot, and who knows what could happen to Cedric by then? “I know,” I tell Amelrik. “But just in case…” I take a step forward, closing the gap between us, and kiss him. Not like it will for sure be our last kiss ever because we’re going to fall from Odilia’s claws down to our deaths… but also not not like that. It could really go either way.
Picturing that makes my legs feel all wobbly and makes me think maybe this is a bad idea. So I push all those thoughts away, hug Amelrik extra hard just in case, and then march over to climb into Odilia’s outstretched hand before I can lose my nerve.
Amelrik does the same. “Don’t drop us,” he tells her.
She sounds offended. “I would never.”
“Or crush us.”
“I squeezed a little too hard one time!”
Wait, what?
“And we’ve only done this one time!”
Odilia huffs at that, the smell of dragon smoke suddenly heavy in the air, but then she gets a hold of herself. “You guys better keep still. No tickling.”
“You know what?” I say. “On second thought, maybe the scenic route is the way to go on this. Cedric will be fine for a few days.” In a St. George’s dungeon somewhere. If he’s not already dead.
“This is the scenic route,” Odilia says. And then, without warning, she closes her fingers around us loosely and takes off.
I scream as air whooshes around me and my stomach plummets like I’ve left it on the ground. I’m sitting down, and there’s not a lot of space here, but the momentum of the takeoff still throws me against the side of her hand, slamming my shoulder into her hard scales.
Then I make the mistake of opening my eyes—I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them—and peering through the scarily wide gaps between her fingers. The wind really does make my eyes water, and it’s so cold up here. I blink through the tears, look down, and immediately feel like I’m going to throw up. So, I guess my stomach did come with me, after all. But the ground is impossibly far below us. The lake’s gone, replaced with endless trees that look really pokey from up here. And the only thing separating me from falling and impaling myself on them, or splatting against the ground, is Odilia’s claws. If she forgets and decides to open them any wider…
I don’t even want to think about it. I scramble for something to hold onto, but there’s only her scales, which are too smooth to grip.
There’s a rumbling sound, which I think might be her saying something, and her fingers twitch a little, closing in on me. I stop moving, frozen with fear, and she relaxes. But, like, not enough to drop me or anything.
She speaks again, and this time I actually hear her. “I told you,” she says, “no tickling.”
7
SUSPICIOUS QUESTIONS THAT MIGHT GET US KILLED
It’s dark out by the time we land what feels like hours later, which on the one hand is a good thing, because it means Odilia can drop us off closer to town without being seen, but on the other hand is kind of a bad thing, since it means it’s even colder. I’m already numb from how cold I got during the flight, and from having to be in an uncomfortable, cramped position the whole way. And the walk into town after we say good-bye to Odilia—who both seemed reluctant to leave and like she couldn’t get away fast enough—doesn’t do much to warm me up.
“If I freeze to death, promise you’ll build a statue of me and put up a big plaque about how amazing I was and how you don’t know how you’ll ever be able to go on without me.”
“All of that on one plaque?” Amelrik has his arm hooked through mine as we make our way down the cobblestone streets of East Westford. The sky is clear right now, but the wind blows bits of snow off the rooftops, visible in the warm glow of the street lamps, which are all decorated for the holidays with red bows and green pine wreaths. The houses and shops along the street are white with dark brown trim and have kind of a fairytale look to them.
The town seems charming—I can see why Cedric likes it here—and our walk might actually be kind of nice, if my teeth weren’t chattering and if Amelrik didn’t keep glancing over his shoulder, like he’s worried about being seen.
“I did specify that it would be a big plaque,” I tell him.
He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him, trying to share his warmth. “Do you want my cloak?”
I shake my head. He’s barely wearing enough winter gear to blend in as it is. Any less and it might look suspicious. Plus, at this point, I don’t feel like another cloak’s going to cut it. We just need to hurry up and get to Cedric’s house so I can warm up. And then get ready for another freezing flight home.
“And where am I supposed to put this statue?” Amelrik pauses at the corner, double checking the map, which we ripped out of a book back home. Then he motions for us to turn right.
“Uh, in the middle of the court, of course. So your father has to look at it every day.”
He laughs. “I don’t think so.”
“I’d say you could put it in your room, to have a constant reminder of me, but then no one else would get to see it. Maybe build it at the barracks.”
“Right. The same barracks where everyone still wants to kill me.” He looks over his shoulder at a random person walking on the opposite side of the street, studies them for a second, then faces forward again.
“Are we almost there?” Because if we have to go much farther, I think he’s going to have to carry me. Or leave me for dead, but hopefully that first one.
“It’s right… there.” He points to a house at the end of the block.
We make our way over to it, my footsteps quickening at the thought of actually being able to get warm again. But as we approach, my heart sinks. There’s no smoke coming out of the chimney. No light coming from the shuttered windows, either.
But he’s a dragon, so he wouldn’t need to have the fire going. And he might be in bed already. I mean, it’s still a bit early for that, but not, like, insanely so or anything. He could reasonably already be asleep. I mean, maybe he has to get up at the crack of dawn to study paladins or something.
Amelrik’s footsteps slow. “He’s not here.”
“We don’t know that.”
I push open the little iron gate that separates the yard from the street, intending to march over to the door and pound on it until Cedric answers—or I annoy everyone on the block, whichever comes first—but Amelrik holds an arm out to stop me. “Wait a second.” He studies the pathway from the gate to the door. “There are a lot of footprints here.”
“He might have had company. It might not mean anything.” It doesn’t look like there was a struggle. At least, not to me.
“Some of these are awfully deep. Like whoever made them was heavy, maybe wearing armor.”
“Would he be stupid enough to invite paladins over to his house?” I ask, keeping my voice down, though it still carries farther than I’d like.
Amelrik doesn’t answer that. He glances at the mess of footprints one more time, then hurries across the yard and pounds on the door. “Cedric!”
I follow him, really hoping Cedric’s secretly home. And not out of firewood. Er, and that he’s safe, of course.
“Cedric!” Amelrik pounds on the door again, louder this time.
I try the doorknob. Locked. “If he’d been captured, would they really have let him lock up first before dragging him off somewhere? Maybe he’s just not home.” Or maybe he came to his senses and realized how dangerous it would be to stay here and left.
Amelrik moves to the window. The shutters are closed, but he tries to peer inside anyway.
“Can you see anything?” I rub my hands together, trying to keep my fingers from freezing off.
“No.”
“Maybe we should break in. Then we can see if there are any signs of a struggle.” And also go through his stuff. Just, you know, to look for clues
and not out of curiosity or anything. And of course if he had any delicious snacks lying around, I don’t see why we couldn’t help ourselves. He is Amelrik’s cousin, after all—I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.
“What?” He turns to look at me. “We’re not breaking in.”
“But we could.”
“I think the neighbors would notice.” He sees me rubbing my hands together and comes over, pulling off one of my mittens. When his fingers touch mine, they feel like they’re on fire.
“Ow.”
He rubs at my hands, trying to work the cold out of them. “We need to get somewhere warm.”
I gesture to the empty house. “Shelter, found. Ta-da.”
“We passed an inn not far from here. They’ll have a fire already going. And hot food.”
My stomach rumbles at the thought. That hot chocolate I drank seems like a lifetime ago. “What about Cedric?”
He glances at the house and sighs. “There’s nothing else we can do right now. We don’t know where he is, and you’re going to start losing fingers if we stay out here any longer. And I don’t know about you, but I happen to like you with all your fingers intact. Toes, too.”
“I have to admit, I am partial to them.”
“We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“And if he’s still not here?”
“Then we’ll break in and look for clues.”
“Really?”
“No, of course not.” He hesitates. “Well, maybe. But let’s wait and cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“You know,” I tell Amelrik, “I read in a book once that the best way to warm someone up is through skin-to-skin contact.” We’re sitting in front of the giant hearth at the inn down the street. The fire’s pretty warm, and I no longer feel like I’m going to freeze to death—the hot bowl of stew I’m eating doesn’t hurt, either—but there’s still a chill lingering in my bones. “So we should probably go up to our room and take off all our clothes.” And then he should press his naked body against mine. Just, you know, to be safe.
“Uh-huh.” He sounds far away when he says it. And completely unenthusiastic.
That was a perfunctory “uh-huh” if I’ve ever heard one. He’s not listening. At least, I hope not, since the alternative is that my own boyfriend—I mean, betrothed—finds the idea of getting naked with me that unappealing. “Ahem.” I clear my throat. When he doesn’t respond to that, I poke him in the shoulder. “Amelrik.”
“What?” He finally notices I’m trying to get his attention. He blinks and sets his empty stew bowl on the low table in front of us.
“I was saying we should— Er, never mind.”
“You see that guy behind the counter?” He leans in and whispers that, like it’s a secret.
“The innkeeper’s son?” The guy he’s talking about is tall with short, light brown hair that hangs just a little too far over his eyes, so that he keeps having to brush it out of his face with his hand. He’s been talking and laughing with the other customers the whole time we’ve been here.
“He’s not their son.” There’s an edge to his voice.
I guess I just assumed. “How do you know? Did you talk to him?” The innkeeper himself checked us in, then we went up to our room to take off our coats and drop off our bags before coming back down to get our food, and Amelrik’s been by my side that whole time, so I don’t know when he would have had a chance find out anything. But I was also pretty focused on eating my stew when I first sat down, so maybe I just didn’t notice.
“He’s a dragon.”
I pause, my spoon hovering just outside my mouth. “A dragon?” Thoughts of Cedric’s letter flood my mind. He said people had been attacked, and obviously he wasn’t the dragon that did it. And now here’s another one. “Do you think—”
“I don’t know.” But it’s clear he doesn’t trust this guy, whoever he is.
“Maybe he knows where Cedric is.” The inn’s not far from Cedric’s house. If Amelrik could tell this guy was a dragon without even getting near him, then surely Cedric must have known there was one so close to him?
The guy at the counter glances over at us, but when he sees Amelrik watching him, he quickly looks away.
I scarf down one last bite of stew, then set the bowl down and get to my feet.
“Virginia.”
“I’m going to go talk to him. He might know something.” And if we’re going to ask someone suspicious questions that might get us killed—like if anyone’s seen our dragon friend—we might as well ask someone who isn’t going to turn us in. Or at least who would have a lot to lose if he did. Not that I’m going to actually ask him if he’s seen our dragon friend, though you wouldn’t know that from the shocked look on Amelrik’s face or the way he’s waving his hands, trying to get me to sit back down.
I go over to the bar. There are a few open seats at the far end, but still too many people here to speak openly.
The guy behind the counter looks over at me, his expression hard and unreadable. But definitely not friendly, not like he’s been to everyone else here.
Someone holds up an empty glass. “Leif—get us one more, will you?”
He nods, but calls out to one of the waitresses and passes the order off to her. Then he—Leif, I guess—comes over to me.
Well, to us, because now Amelrik’s standing beside me, his whole body giving off a wary vibe. He really doesn’t trust this guy.
Leif looks from him to me. “You don’t belong here.” He has the same clipped accent as Amelrik and everyone else in Hawthorne Valley, but I’m guessing he’s not from Hawthorne clan, or else Amelrik wouldn’t be so on edge.
“We’re looking for someone,” I say. “Maybe you know him?”
“We’re a popular inn—lots of people coming through. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“He’s, um…” I realize I don’t actually know what Cedric looks like. “His name’s Cedric.”
Leif shakes his head, a little too quickly. “Never heard of him.”
Amelrik scowls. “If you’ve seen him—”
“I haven’t. There’s no one by that name here.” He brushes his hair out of his face, his eyes a hard, icy blue. “If that’s all, I have customers to see to.”
“Wait,” I tell him. “We just want to know if he’s okay.”
Leif hesitates, his gaze falling down to the counter, so that his hair falls in his eyes again. “I told you already, I don’t know him. I can’t keep track of everyone who comes in here.”
Right as he says that, the door flies open and a group of paladins comes clamoring in. They’re not in their armor, though they are all still wearing their swords, and their cloaks all have their family insignias on them.
Amelrik takes a step back, even though they’re nowhere near us. Well, relatively speaking. They’re actually pretty close, all things considered, even if they’re still on the other side of the room.
Leif sucks in a breath. “I can’t be seen with you,” he mutters, and then heads off to attend another customer at the other end of the bar.
The half a dozen paladins are all in a really good mood. The one at the head of their group—a Blackarrow, judging by his family crest—marches straight up to the counter and shouts, “Drinks are on us tonight!”
“No!” The woman next to him—an Elmhurst—elbows him in the ribs. “I said one round!”
“The boss is paying for it. Besides, tonight’s a night to celebrate—we captured ourselves a dragon!”
She glares at him, like she wishes he hadn’t just announced that. A cheer erupts throughout the inn.
Amelrik grabs my hand, but other than that, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the group of paladins.
Neither does Leif. He gapes at them, a look of absolute horror washing over his face. The glass he’s holding slips from his grasp, crashing into pieces on the floor.
“Leif!” the innkeeper scolds. “They’re only paying for the drinks, not the cups!”
/>
“Sorry,” he mutters, then grabs a broom to clean it up, his hands shaking. As he starts to sweep, his eyes dart over to us, then away again.
Me and Amelrik share a look, then push our way through the suddenly boisterous crowd and over to the stairs to get to our room. We can’t talk out here—not that we could really hear each other anyway, since the paladins have started up a loud drinking song—but I’m pretty sure we don’t need to. I just need to grab a coat or two before we head out to rescue Cedric.
8
HERE’S YOUR PROOF
The first thing I notice when we sneak into the servants’ entrance in the kitchen at Rosewood Manor—the nobleman’s house where all the paladins are staying—is that it’s really warm. Too warm, especially with all my coats on. They must really keep the fires stoked in this place. Though, when I look around, I see that the heat’s coming from several large ovens. A couple members of the kitchen staff are running around, frantically trying to keep up with the food they’re cooking, even though dinner should have been hours ago.
“You!” A plump woman wearing an apron dusts flour off her hands and points to me. “It’s about time someone showed up. What are you just standing around for?”
“Um—”
“Put your coat in the closet with the others and get one of those aprons on!” Her face is red, maybe from the heat, or maybe from shouting at me. Then she bows her head in Amelrik’s direction. “I’m so sorry, my lord. I hope she wasn’t bothering you. And pardon me for saying so, but guests ought to use the front entrance.”
My lord? And we came in together—why is she assuming I’m part of the staff and he’s not?
“It’s fine,” he says, as if this is a totally normal conversation. “I’ve seen a kitchen before, believe it or not.”
She laughs. “Well, next time, be sure to go in the front. Lord Rosewood would have my hide if he knew I’d let you come through the side entrance.”
“Let’s just agree not to tell him then.”
Honorbound Page 5