Honorbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  I march down the alley, around the corner, even though it’s the last thing I should do.

  I hear Amelrik cry out in surprised protest, but I can’t stop. Or maybe I just won’t.

  Warwick’s underling gasps, but Warwick himself barely has time to register what’s going on before I hit him.

  It’s not a good hit. It’s a wild flailing of my fist that lands on his chest instead of his face. “How dare you!”

  “Virginia!” Amelrik shouts.

  I ignore him. I hit Warwick again as hard as I can. “How dare you walk around like everything’s fine! Like you get to do whatever the hell you want!”

  Warwick gives me a disgusted look, like I’m nothing. A fly in his soup. He’s not even wearing armor, but it’s like all my efforts to hurt him don’t even scratch the surface. “I thought I dealt with you,” he says, sighing as he shoves me away with one hand, sending me stumbling backward.

  I catch myself, just barely, my boots digging into the snow. I’m not going to let it be that easy for him. I’m not just going to let him push me this time.

  I launch myself at him, screaming out a garbled war cry. I put everything I have into it, slamming into him and actually managing to knock him back a step.

  Not that it does any good. He grabs my arm, his grip hard enough to bruise, and wrenches it behind my back until it feels like it’s going to break. Until I cry out in pain.

  “Don’t touch her!” There’s a sharp edge in Amelrik’s voice that sends a shiver down my spine. He’s trembling all over, but he’s still human, and some crazy part of me is thinking we might still get out of this.

  Then there’s the sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing as he transforms.

  The underling cries out in horror. Warwick gasps. He lets go of my arm right as Amelrik lunges at him.

  I dart away, not wanting to be anywhere near Warwick, who takes a step back, actual fear in his eyes for once.

  But then the underling’s in front of him, throwing himself in the way, half fumbling—but ultimately failing—to draw his sword. He collides with Amelrik, taking the attack that was meant for Warwick, and at a strange angle.

  Amelrik’s hooked claws slice through the man’s side. The man screams, and my stomach twists. Amelrik pulls away from him, horrified. His claws are bloody. Dripping. There’s blood everywhere, stark red against the white snow.

  I put my hands to my mouth, unable to believe that just happened.

  “No,” Amelrik says. At least, I think that’s what he says. It comes out more of a strangled cry than an actual word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Get away from me!” The underling backs away. He’s on the ground, his blood trailing behind him. He lifts up his shirt to reveal deep gouges, dark and oozing. He stares in horror, frozen, not doing anything.

  Amelrik’s speaking really fast in Vairlin. He tries to put his clawed hands to the wound to stop the bleeding.

  The underling screams again and tears himself away, not letting Amelrik help him. “Monster!” he shrieks.

  This should be Warwick’s chance to get away. Or to attack. I’m pretty sure he could take out both of us right now if he really wanted to. But instead he’s staring at Amelrik with a strange gleam in his eye. It’s a hungry look, like someone’s just handed him a prize.

  “Help me!” the underling screams.

  Amelrik moves like he’s going to try and press his hands to the wound again, but the underling kicks at him. It’s Warwick he’s begging for help, not his attacker.

  Warwick doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring at Amelrik. “You’re perfect,” he breathes. Only the way he says it, it doesn’t sound like a good thing. “A human-sized dragon. A perfect murderer.”

  “Of course he’s the murderer!” the underling cries. “Kill him!”

  No. Rage flares inside me again. I can’t let that happen.

  Amelrik’s standing there in shock, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he stares at his bloody claws. His eyes look wide and strangely empty.

  I hurry over to the underling, reaching down and unsheathing his sword, holding it in front of me as I move to protect Amelrik. “You’re not going to touch him,” I say to Warwick. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

  He actually laughs at that. He steps forward and draws his own sword.

  I swallow. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. But still, I’ll die before I let him hurt Amelrik.

  Warwick takes his time moving toward me. My arms are already shaking from the weight of the sword, not used to holding one and also super nervous. I tell myself that if we survive this, I’m not only going to start practicing the binding spell on a regular basis, but start working out more, too. Or, you know, at all.

  Warwick’s sword arm darts out. There’s the clang of metal as his sword collides with mine and he knocks it right out of my hands.

  Crap.

  I add “learn how to sword fight” to my mental list, even though I’m starting to think our chances of survival are looking pretty slim.

  Still, I don’t move, because I meant what I said. He’s going to have to go through me.

  Maybe literally.

  But he doesn’t come closer. He moves to the underling.

  The underling’s hands are stained with blood. There’s so much of it in the snow around him, the red circle spreading farther and farther. “Warwick,” he says, his features twisting in agony, “help me.”

  Warwick puts one foot on the man’s chest. He points his sword at the wound, matching up the angle with the gouges from Amelrik’s claws.

  “Warwick, what are you—”

  His words turn into a gurgle as Warwick plunges the sword into the man’s side, driving it in deep before yanking it back out.

  The man’s still alive, writhing in pain for a few more moments before finally going still.

  Warwick looks through me, like I’m nothing. A smile twists his mouth as he stares at Amelrik for a second, as if confirming to himself that his newfound prize is real. He wipes his sword off in the snow and sheathes it, then hurries off, shouting, “Guards! Dragon!” at the top of his lungs.

  As if he didn’t just kill a man—another paladin, one of his own. Someone who took an attack that was meant for him.

  As soon as he’s gone, Amelrik falls to his knees. He topples onto all fours and throws up, his vomit mixing with the blood in the snow. His face is ashen, and his wings are twitching. No, his whole body’s shaking. He sits up, turning away from the mess, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. A hand that’s stained red.

  I take a step toward him. “Amelrik—”

  “Stay away from me!” He says it so forcefully that I think for a second he means he’s going to throw up again. But then he adds, his voice pained, “I’m a monster.”

  I kneel down on the ground in front of him, ignoring the way the cold soaks into my legs. Guilt pushes its way into my chest, because none of this would have happened if I hadn’t snapped like that. If we’d just kept walking. But it’s too late to take it back, and I can’t afford to think like that right now. “You’re not. And we have to get out of here.” I glance over my shoulder, knowing it’s only a matter of time before the guards come and find the body, and they’d better not find Amelrik here with it.

  “I…” His gaze wanders over to the corpse lying not that far from us. “I did that.” He holds up his blood-stained hands, as if they’re the proof of what he’s saying.

  “You tried to help.” I reach for him, but he pulls back, turning his face away. “You tried to stop the bleeding.”

  “I hardly felt it. My claws went through him like it was nothing. How can it be nothing?!”

  “It’s not—”

  “I killed him.”

  “No.” I crawl forward, so that our knees are touching. I put my hands on his face, holding his jaw, making him look at me. The tips of my fingers brush against the scales that run along the edge of his hair. I look him in the ey
es. In his yellow dragon eyes that are both so alien and yet so him. “Warwick St. George killed him. Not you.”

  He moves a hand to push me away, then seems horrified at the thought. He twists out of my grasp instead. “I hurt him. He was bleeding. There was so much of it, so much blood all over, because of me. He could have died because of—”

  “You don’t know that! And… it was an accident. You were trying to save me. You didn’t know that guy was going to do that. You couldn’t have.”

  No response. The words hang in the air between us. He doesn’t look at me. I can’t tell if he’s looking at anything, and it kind of freaks me out. Especially because I can hear some kind of commotion in the distance, and we really need to get out of here.

  “Amelrik?”

  He lifts his head. Just enough that I know that he heard me.

  “Warwick’s the monster. He knew that guy, and he still didn’t help him. You did, even though he was a paladin. Even though he would have killed you if he’d had the chance. That’s not monstrous.”

  “He’s dead. Because of me. And the way he screamed—” He winces, unable to finish that thought. “I did that. I made that happen!”

  “It’s not your fault! And we have to get out of here!” Adrenaline floods my veins. Stern voices are shouting to each other not that far from us. Maybe guards, maybe paladins, but definitely coming closer. And I know Amelrik hears it, too. He must.

  But he doesn’t move. And I can’t tell if it’s because he’s too messed up right now to register what’s happening or if he just doesn’t care, but I want to scream at him to snap out of it. I want to grab him and drag him away from this place.

  But instead I put my arms around him, holding him to me as hard as I can.

  He sucks in a sharp breath. His whole body tenses up, especially his shoulders. I feel the muscles in his back move as he suddenly spreads out his wings. “Virginia,” he says, his tone half warning, half pleading.

  But I only hug him tighter. His chest moves in and out too fast. I bury my face in his neck. The scales there are smooth against my skin. He stays tense, not touching me, not hugging me back, but I don’t care. “Something terrible happened, but it doesn’t make you a monster. A monster doesn’t care who they’ve hurt or that they’ve hurt somebody. Maybe they’re not even capable of it. But that’s not you. You’re kind, and brave, and caring, and the best friend I’ve ever had. The only person I’ve ever truly loved and who’s ever truly loved me. I’ve seen monsters before, Amelrik, both dragon and human, and you’re sure as hell not one of them. Not even close. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you just sit here in the snow until the guards come. We’ve both made mistakes today, but I am not going to lose you. Not to Warwick, not to them, and not to yourself. So get up right now, because we’re getting out of here.”

  24

  THERE’S A REASON I’M A WANTED CRIMINAL

  We take the back way out of the alley, pausing just long enough for Amelrik to change back to human form. He seems reluctant to do it for once, as if he wants to be found out. As if he thinks he deserves it.

  We abandon our stuff at the inn, hurrying instead to get back to Cedric’s house. Amelrik’s usually faster than me, but he lags behind the whole way, until I remind him how urgent this is, that we have to warn Cedric. He was already in danger before, and now we’ve just made it that much worse.

  Cedric and Leif are packed and ready to go when we get there. They both look over at us when I fling open the door. Thoughts flicker across Cedric’s face. Worry, when he sees me, hurried and out of breath, and then straight up terror when he sees Amelrik.

  Cedric’s eyes dart between us. “What happened?”

  “You have to go,” Amelrik says. “Without us.” He moves past Cedric and Leif, who are both staring at him, and heads into the kitchen. He washed his hands as best he could in the snow, but blood still sticks in the lines of his palms. He washes them again now, scrubbing at them until they’re red and sore-looking.

  “You didn’t answer me,” Cedric says.

  “There was an accident,” I tell him. “The paladins think—”

  “They know what I am,” Amelrik says, interrupting me. He inspects his hands, not seeming satisfied with them, but then glances down at his clothes. They’re covered in blood. He starts undressing right there in the kitchen, shrugging off his cloak, then pulling his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor.

  “Amelrik.” Cedric’s voice is shaking. “What the hell is going on?!”

  “They know what I am! And if they find me, they’ll know what you are, too.” He takes his pants off.

  Leif looks slightly uncomfortable, like he’s not sure if he should be looking away or not. Back at Hawthorne clan—and I assume at Oak—seeing someone naked wouldn’t mean anything. But after living in a human city for a year, it must seem weird to him.

  “I need something,” Amelrik says as he gets all the way undressed. He’s just standing there in the kitchen, completely naked, a pile of bloody clothes at his feet. “I need to borrow something to wear.”

  Cedric gapes at him, his face pale. “Yeah, of course.” He tears open one of the packed bags sitting on the table and tosses him a new shirt and a pair of pants. “Now tell us what’s happening.”

  Amelrik slips the pants on, then takes a deep breath. “I… I ki—”

  “Warwick St. George killed another paladin,” I tell them.

  “I hurt him,” Amelrik says, his voice tight.

  “Who? Warwick?” Cedric asks.

  Amelrik shakes his head. He’s just standing there, only half dressed, looking empty again.

  “The other paladin,” I explain. “It was an accident. And then Warwick killed him and blamed it on Amelrik.”

  Cedric’s and Leif’s eyes go wide.

  Amelrik’s hands are shaking. They fumble at the buttons on the shirt Cedric gave him. “They think I’m the murderer. And if they find us together, they’ll kill you, too.”

  Cedric swallows. “We’re not splitting up. I’m not just going to leave you to them! We’ll—”

  “They’ll know we’re related. It took Celeste two seconds to figure it out. They’ll know we’re both dragons, and then—”

  “No,” Cedric says. “We just have to lie low until this all blows over.”

  “It’s safer if you stay away from me. They already suspect you, but… as long as they think it’s me, they’ll leave you alone. Find an inn somewhere, use a false name, and when the barrier’s down—”

  “Why would the barrier come down?” Cedric asks, his voice thick, like there’s a lump in his throat.

  Just like the one in mine. I don’t like the way Amelrik said that, as if it’s a sure thing. As if he believes they’ll catch him.

  Amelrik finishes with his shirt, even though the buttons aren’t aligned right with the holes, so that there’s one extra button at the top that has nowhere to go. He presses his palms to his forehead, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. “Virginia can take the dragon rings off when it’s all over. Once it’s safe to come back here—”

  “We’ll all meet back up,” I say, finishing that sentence for him, just in case he was going to imply that he wouldn’t be around. That it would just be me meeting up with them.

  “And we’re just supposed to go along with this?” Cedric asks. “You show up here, covered in blood and acting all…” He waves his hand at Amelrik, like he doesn’t even know how to begin to describe what he’s seeing. “And you expect us to just abandon you?”

  “I expect you to stay alive.” Amelrik stands up straight, moving closer to Cedric and looking him in the eyes. “They’ll kill Leif, too. It’s not a hard leap. He’s wearing a dragon ring, after all, and he looks magic sick. The paladins know what to look for. They’ll recognize the signs right away. And they won’t just kill you, they’ll torture you. And… you don’t want to be associated with me.” He wraps his arms around himself. “A lot of people are dead because o
f me. A lot of paladins. I didn’t… I never had blood on my hands until today, not literally, but there were others. When I lived with Elder clan—”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” I tell him, hating the desperation in my voice.

  “I knew what I was doing. I told myself it was for the right reasons, and maybe it was, but I still… I still got a lot of people killed. There’s a reason I’m a wanted criminal. And maybe Warwick was technically the one who ended that man’s life today, but it was still because of something I did. I’ve caused so many people so much pain—”

  “No, cousin,” Cedric breathes. “You would never—”

  “But I did!”

  “They were paladins. They would have hurt dragons! It’s what they do.” He glances over at me, shooting me an apologetic look. “Well, it’s what most of them do, anyway.”

  “They’ll figure out who I am, and if they catch me…” Amelrik squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “You’re not going to be part of that.”

  “I—”

  “Cedric. You know what you have to do. Don’t make this any harder than it is.”

  Cedric’s eyes meet Amelrik’s, pleading with him. They stare at each other, some kind of silent exchange passing between them. But Amelrik doesn’t back down, and eventually Cedric crumples. His shoulders deflate, and his face twists up.

  “They’ll be coming soon,” Amelrik says, his voice disturbingly calm. “You’d better get going.”

  As soon as Cedric and Leif are gone, we run. We don’t bring anything with us—we just run.

  There are paladins on Cedric’s street, maybe coming to the house, or maybe looking for Amelrik, but we avoid them. Well, I avoid them, practically dragging him behind me.

  I tell myself they won’t find him. They don’t know who he is—they barely know what he looks like, at least in human form. And it’s not as if he’s running around in dragon form with wings and scales. But if that was true—if I really believed that—there wouldn’t be this overwhelming surge of fear running through me that I have to keep pushing down.