by Sera Trevor
At last, they reached the inn. The coachman retrieved Jasen’s trunk and brought it to the steps of the inn before heading back to the palace. Jasen left it for the moment, more concerned with reaching his father. He rushed in the door and approached the innkeep, who he remembered from their last stay. He was an older man with a belly to rival his father’s. “I’m here for my father, the Earl of Hogas,” Jasen said. “Am I too late?”
The innkeep furrowed his brow. “Too late? No, he’s still here.”
“What’s his condition?”
“Condition? Well, I imagine he’s still conscious, given that he just ordered some champagne.”
Now it was Jasen’s turn to be confused. “Champagne?” He frowned. If he was well enough to be ordering champagne, maybe things weren’t too dire. He relaxed a little. “Can I see him?”
“Of course.” He gestured to a barmaid. “Jonae, will you show the gentleman to his father’s room?”
Jasen trailed up the stairs behind Jonae. She led him to a door. “Here you are, my lord,” she said. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“Could you send someone to retrieve my trunk? I left it at the door.”
“Of course, my lord.”
As soon as she left, Jasen took a deep breath and opened the door—
There was a loud pop, and then he was beaned in the forehead by a projectile of some sort. He cried out, more in surprise than in pain.
“Sorry, son!” his dad said cheerily. He was not lying in bed, wasting away—instead, he was sitting at a small table, a bottle of foaming champagne in his hands. “Guess the champagne got a little jostled on its way up here! Would you like some?”
Jasen rubbed his head as scanned the ground. He picked up the object that had hit him—it was a champagne cork. “You-you aren’t sick?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Healthy as an ox!” His dad belched cheerfully.
A wave of relief washed over Jasen, but the relief was immediately undercut by a surge of fury. “You aren’t sick?”
The smile slid off his father’s face. “I can explain—”
“Oh of course,” Jasen spat out. “You always have explanations, don’t you? What is it this time? Have you gambled so much that they won’t let you leave until someone comes and pays your debts?”
“No, nothing like that!”
“Then what? What could possibly compel you to write to me telling me you were dying? Do you know how worried I was?”
“Well, then—you must be happy to see that I’m healthy!”
Jasen clenched his fists so tightly his arms shook. “You deceitful, drunken, despicable son of a whore!”
“Here, now—don’t speak of your grandmother like that!”
Jasen let out a shriek and launched himself at his father. His dad yelped and leapt from his chair—he was surprisingly nimble for a man of his size. The room wasn’t very large, though, so Jasen soon caught up to him. Just when Jasen was about to land the smack upside the head that his father so richly deserved, the door opened and a man entered the room.
“Is everything all right?” the man said.
Jasen froze. The man didn’t look familiar. In fact, it was difficult to think much about his appearance at all—it was as if his mind simply wouldn’t allow him to make sense of his features. But he knew his voice. “Rilvor?”
The man waved a hand over his face. All at once, his face snapped into focus, and Jasen could see that it was Rilvor. He must have been using magic to make himself unrecognizable. He was dressed in a manner more suited to a poor traveler than a king. Jasen blinked rapidly, not quite believing what he was seeing.
Jasen’s dad scooted past him and slung an arm around Rilvor. Given that Rilvor was a good head taller than him, it was somewhat awkward. “Surprise!”
Surprise was right. Jasen looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”
His dad puffed out his chest. “The king and I are old chums now! When he finished his business in Westrona, he popped by Grumhul to introduce himself. It was quite a sight, him coming in on his dragon!”
“I can imagine,” Jasen said weakly. What he couldn’t imagine was the process of him and Rilvor becoming “old chums.” The whole situation was taking on an unreal quality—so much had changed since this morning.
His father plowed on. “So we got to talking about your whole situation, and the king was explaining the difficulties of getting some, ahem, time for yourselves.” To Jasen’s great horror, his father actually winked at Rilvor. “And so I came up with this brilliant plan! Everyone thinks the king is off consorting with the dragons, and everyone thinks you’re off comforting your poor old dad, so that means the two of you can do whatever you want for a few days! Brilliant, eh?”
Jasen had to admit that it was clever. It was also horrible—he hadn’t had time to decide what he was going to do about Adwig’s proposal. The only good thing about Rilvor being away was that he’d have time to think, but now that had been snatched away. What was he supposed to do? He sank down into the chair his father had vacated and put his head in his hand.
Rilvor crossed the room and knelt beside him. “Is everything all right?” he asked, taking Jasen’s hand in his. His eyes were so sweet and sincere. It hurt to look at him, so Jasen steadied his gaze on the floor.
His dad seemed to have finally caught on that Jasen was less than delighted. He cleared his throat. “I suppose I went a little too far with my note, what with saying I was dying. I am sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You were really worried about me?”
“Of course I was!” Horribly, Jasen felt tears prick behind his eyes. The whole day had been a jumble—first the meeting with the minister, then learning that his dad was dying, only to find out he wasn’t after all, and now Rilvor here, looking not like a king, but a man—a man whose heart he might break. It was too much.
Rilvor rubbed his hand. “We’ve given you a shock. That was thoughtless of us.”
“But for a good cause!” his father protested. “And see, your old dad is perfectly fine! And wait until you hear what Rilvor has in store for you.”
“I was going to have it be a surprise,” Rilvor said. He dipped his head so that Jasen was forced to meet his eyes. “Although I expect you have had enough surprises for one day, yes?”
Jasen made a faint sound of agreement in response—it was the best he could manage.
“I want to take you to Rakon—to show you all the things I told you about from my childhood. One of the draeds I’ve known since I was a child has offered his home to us—it’s little more than a cottage, but comfortable, and more importantly, quite isolated. We won’t be able to stay long—two or three days, at the most. But I thought it would be a welcome respite from the madness of Court.”
“And you’ll get to ride a dragon!” his father butted it. “Let me tell you, son, it is an experience like no other!”
Rilvor smiled. “Tasenred is most anxious to see you again. Would that please you?”
Jasen didn’t know what to say. A day ago, it would have pleased him quite a lot. But so much had changed since then. He knew he ought to say no—his mind was made up that he could not accept a marriage proposal. But if he refused him now, that would be it. He would never see Rilvor or the dragons ever again. Jasen’s heart lurched at the thought—every part of him cried out no, not yet!
“I would like that,” he said quietly, which was true enough.
Rilvor smiled then, looking happier than Jasen could remember ever seeing him. He cursed himself for a coward, knowing how devastated he would be later on.
“This calls for champagne!” his father proclaimed. The champagne, however, had been knocked over, so his father went downstairs to get some more, leaving Rilvor and Jasen alone.
Rilvor peered at him. “Something still bothers you.”
Jasen forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Just still getting over the shock, like you said.”
Jasen pulled out the note from where he’d tucked it inside his cloak and handed it to him. Rilvor’s eyebrows raised as he read it. “I see. That is rather dramatic.”
“That’s my father for you. I should have guessed, really. This isn’t even the first time he’s pretended to be dying.”
Rilvor’s eyebrows raised even further. “Oh?”
“It’s a good way to get out of situations where you’ve gambled more than you have. He does a very good impression of a plague patient.”
Rilvor laughed. “You must be joking.”
“I wish I was.” Jasen sighed. “How much money has he asked from you?”
Rilvor blinked. “He mentioned some debts. I told him I would be happy to help—”
“Don’t. Giving him money makes it worse. If you want to help, pay his creditors directly and don’t tell him about it. It’s good for my dad to be worried about debt collectors. Not that there’s much left for them to take if they do track him down. If he weren’t an earl, he’d probably be in debtor’s prison.”
Rilvor considered him for a moment before speaking again. “It seems that I have acted hastily, without a good understanding of your relationship with your father. I am sorry.”
Jasen shrugged. “What for? You can’t help the way he is.”
“But I did not speak with you about seeing him. I should not have presumed.” Rilvor let go of Jasen’s hand and rubbed his face. “This was all presumptuous. You must forgive me—as king, I am too used to having my way. If you do not wish to come with me, I completely understand.”
Jasen smiled at him weakly. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a nice idea.”
“You’ll come, then?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful!” Rilvor kissed his hand. “And I should hope it goes without saying that I do not have any…expectations.”
Jasen cocked his head. “Expectations?”
Rilvor blushed a little. “I would not impinge your honor.”
Of course. He’d forgotten he was supposed to be diligently guarding his virginity. He was saved from having to respond when his father entered the room, carrying not one but three bottles.
“It’s time to celebrate, boys! I got a bottle for each of us!”
Jasen rolled his eyes but accepted his bottle.
“On the count of three,” his dad said, getting his cork ready. “One, two, three!”
The corks popped simultaneously. His dad made as if to drink directly from the bottle, but seemed to think better of it when he saw Rilvor and Jasen pouring themselves glasses like civilized people. Once he filled his glass, he lifted up. “A toast to my son! May you have all the happiness in the world. You deserve it, after putting up with me your whole life.”
“Don’t talk like that, Dad,” Jasen said.
“No, no—it’s the truth. I know I was a shit dad, but I do love you, son, and I want you to be happy. My only regret is that your dear mother couldn’t be here to see it.” He waved his glass in Rilvor’s direction. “And a toast to my future son-in-law! I’d be happy to have you in the family even if you weren’t the king. I knew from the moment I met you that you were more than just a monarch!”
Rilvor raised his glass. “Thank you, Draul.”
“Please—call me Dad.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Jasen said before Rilvor could respond.
Rilvor just laughed, with his dad soon joining in. After a few moments, Jasen began laughing himself.
They spent the rest of the day and evening listening to his father reminiscing about his own marriage, which segued into many stories about Jasen’s childhood. The champagne blurred out some of Jasen’s sadness, and for a while he even forgot about Minister Adwig and the horrible decision that awaited him.
Instead, he allowed his father’s stories to bring him back to his childhood. It was true that his parents weren’t perfect, and he still felt the loss of his mother keenly. But the one thing he could say for his dad was that in between all of the drinking and the gambling and general irresponsibility, he had also been enormously affectionate, especially when Jasen was a child. And he seemed genuinely happy for Jasen, and not just happy that he’d snagged the king. It was a pity his happiness was misplaced.
Eventually, the champagne ran out. Rilvor went to his room, swaying a little. Jasen was to stay with his dad, who fell fast asleep before Rilvor was even fully out of the door. Sleep didn’t come quite so easily for Jasen. He still had no idea what he was going to say to Rilvor, or indeed what he wanted for himself.
Chapter 15
Rilvor and Jasen woke early the next morning. His dad roused himself enough to murmur a bleary good-bye. He was going to stay at the inn for the few days that Rilvor and Jasen would be gone, after which they would bring him back to the palace with them. Or rather, that was Rilvor’s plan. Who knew what would really happen.
Since they were traveling to Rakon via dragon and horses did not do well around dragons, he and Rilvor had to walk to the nearest draemir. Jasen didn’t mind—it had been a long time since he’d gotten in a decent hike. They left their belongings at the inn, as all their other needs would be provided for once they reached Rakon. The one special item they brought was Rilvor’s Drae’s cloak, which was also hidden with magic. Wearing it made communion with the dragons easier.
The walk lasted about an hour. When they reached the draemir, Rilvor put his hand on the jewel of the Drae’s cloak. “They shouldn’t be long. I reached them earlier this morning.”
“What does it feel like?” Jasen asked. “Communing with the dragons, I mean.”
Rilvor thought for a moment. “Like fishing.”
Jasen blinked. “Fishing? How do you mean?”
“Have you ever been fishing?”
“Of course I have! It’s practically a national pastime in Grumhul.”
Rilvor chuckled. “Forgive me. You have become such a creature of Court that I sometimes forget that you aren’t a typical noble. So as you know, when you fish, you put out your line, and you wait. Eventually, you feel a tug. Once you do, you begin to pull it in. Instead of a fishing line, you use your attention. It requires some concentration, and most of all, patience.” Rilvor patted the jewel clasp of his cloak. “This helps.”
“So you just—think it?”
“In a sense, although I wouldn’t call it ‘thinking,’ since you need to set your thoughts aside.”
“Set your thoughts aside?” He scoffed. “Where on earth are you supposed to put them?”
Rilvor laughed again and then gave Jasen a thoughtful look. He took off his cloak and put it on Jasen’s shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Jasen asked as he clasped it.
“I am going to teach you how to call the dragons.”
Jasen furrowed his brow. “That isn’t possible. I don’t have any magic.”
“But you have a connection with Tasenred, and I have felt the power in you, ever since you first arrived.”
“You have?”
“Don’t you remember, when we first met in the draemir?”
He did. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when in reality it had only been a few months, but he remembered that warm feeling when he wore the cloak. As soon as he thought of it, he felt it again. He sucked in a breath.
“You feel it again,” Rilvor said. It wasn’t a question.
Jasen nodded.
“Sit down with me.”
They sank to the ground and sat, cross-legged. “Close your eyes,” Rilvor said. “And draw your attention to your breath.”
“I thought I was supposed to draw my attention to the dragons.”
“You need to gather your attention first. Think of it as getting your fishing rod ready. Once the line is in place, you can cast it out.”
“How will I know I’m ready?”
“You’ll feel it.”
Jasen was still skeptical, but he shut his eyes and tried all the same.
But every time he managed to focus on his breath, his attention would shatter a moment later. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there—long enough for him to be uncomfortable.
Sighing, he opened his eyes. “It’s not working.”
“Let us try another way.” Rilvor put his hand on his back. All at once, Jasen felt a warmth in his chest. “Do you feel that?”
Jasen nodded. “It’s warm.”
“Close your eyes again and put your attention there, with the beat of your heart.”
Jasen did as he was told. One by one, his thoughts and worries left him until all that was left was Rilvor’s hand on his back, and the beating of his heart.
“Good,” Rilvor said, his voice low. “Cast your mind out now. Look for Tasenrad. He’s searching for you.”
Jasen thought of the dragon. Before long, he felt a tug on his mind, just as Rilvor said he would. He tugged back. And then he “saw” Tasenred in his mind’s eye—not just a memory or an imagining, but as clearly as if the dragon were already there, with his red scales gleaming in the sunlight as he flew through the air. He saw Woria, too, flying right beside him. The image grew more and more intense, realer than real now, as if he both saw Tasenred and was seeing through Tasenred’s eyes as he swooped downward—
It became too much. He gasped and opened his eyes—and there the dragon was, standing in front of him. Woria was there, too. He hadn’t even heard them land.
Rilvor removed his hand from Jasen’s back. “Well done.”
Jasen felt dazed, but managed to get to his feet. He moved to Tasenred’s side, almost feeling more like he was floating than walking. The dragon lowered his head to meet him. Jasen leaned his forehead against the dragon’s cheek, shutting his eyes and breathing in.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
He felt something stir in the dragon and in his own heart—he could feel that Tasenred felt the same. A loud snort from Woria startled him. He left Tasenred to approach the other dragon. “It’s good to see you as well,” he said, giving her a bow. She let out a snort and rumbled toward him, lowering her head until they were face to face. Jasen put his hand on her cheek, which seemed to please her.