David snorted. “He’s a dragon, Charlotte. Unlike Mirith, he has a dark, inhuman soul. You’d have better luck teaching a penguin to fly.”
She hugged her arms to her waist and sighed. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. How silly of me to wish for the impossible.”
He smiled. “It’s not silly at all. Your ability to see good in everything is one of the things I love about you.”
His words wrapped around her heart. “Ah, so you do love me,” she teased. “I knew it.”
His gaze shifted and fluttered away from her, and he bit his bottom lip as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. What do you mean? You love me like a friend? You love me like a sister? Because that would be really freaky considering the way you kissed me in Chalisdawn.”
He turned away, his hands clasped behind his neck. “Charlotte, don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what? You lecture me about hiding behind my feelings, yet you’re doing the same thing. What is the excuse this time? Do you still feel you need to protect me, because if you do, you’d better take another look.” Shimmering electrical currents skipped across her skin. “I don’t need your protection. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. What I do need is you, and for you to let me in. I need to hold on to the one thing that makes sense in this whole entire messed up world.”
David shook his head. “You’re only saying that because Eric’s gone.” He met her gaze. “Don’t look at me that way. You know it’s true. You loved him, and now you’re clinging to me because you don’t want to be alone.”
“I don’t believe you just said that.” A wildfire of fury raged out of control. Catching. Burning. Sparks sizzled from the tips of her fingers. “Are you seriously going to turn this conversation around to my momentary feelings for Eric because you can’t be honest with yourself about your feelings for me?”
“It wasn’t a momentary thing, Charlotte. You were attracted to him from the moment you saw him. I saw the flirting, the sideways glances. I heard what you said to him. I saw you kiss him.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, he was dying, you idiot!” She wished she had something, anything, to hurl at him.
“He wasn’t dying in Havendale. It was almost as if you attached yourself to him to piss me off.”
“Oh my God. You’re jealous. That’s what this is all about.”
“Yes and no.” He ran his palms over his face and back through his hair. “I’m jealous of what he was, what he represented. He was everything I wanted to be … brave, heroic, good-looking. Charming. He had a spark, Charlotte. He had spirit and drive and a need to protect at all cost, even if it meant dying. I didn’t. Even though my head and my heart said I did, I froze when the time came to prove myself and protect you. I know it’s a mannish thing to say, but it’s true. Guys want to shield those they love from pain. They want to fix stuff even though we know girls can fend for themselves. It may be an archaic way of thinking, but it’s true. Truth is, I’ll never be all the things he was and all the things you deserve. No matter how much I love you, and God knows I do, I have nothing to offer you.”
Her heart crumbled and fell off a cliff. She reached for his face, holding it while staring into his eyes. “That’s not true,” she said, the electricity withdrawing inside and flickering out. “You have everything to offer. You’re smart, you have a crazy sense of humor. When you’re not being a jerk, you can be amazingly charming and sweet. You’re kind and generous, and I can’t tell you how many times you’ve come to my rescue. You have an insane love for life and animals and your heart is the biggest, most wonderful I’ve ever known.” She combed the hair from his temple. “You’re my best friend. You know more about me than anyone. I trust you with my life, my heart, and my soul. No one else will ever come close to giving me what you can.” She stepped in closer. “I cared about Eric, and I’ll admit I was interested in what he put out there, but you pushed me away with all this I only want to be friends crap. I wanted to get back at you, and I knew he got under your skin. I thought if you saw me and him together, you might rethink us.” She brushed her thumb over his cheek. “It was stupid, and I’m sorry. All I ask is that you reconsider. Don’t throw us away, David. Please. I need you, more than ever, and I think you feel the same way, am I right?” A tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t mean it to happen. It escaped.
David pulled her into his arms.
The world slipped from beneath her feet. Electricity thrummed through her, sparking. Igniting.
His hands caressed her back, and her bones liquefied.
“You know I love you, more than anything, but I can’t do us right now.” He kissed her forehead and backed away. “The thought of it messes up my head. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. When I hold you, when we kiss, it’s as if nothing else in the world matters, but it does matter. I can’t allow myself to give in to us, because this freaking world does exist, and the only reason it’s in the mess it’s in is because of me and Eric … and now you. The heirs that were never supposed to be together. I need to fix it, Char. We must fix it. We have to make things right again. To do that, we need to put aside what we need or want and focus. Once that’s done, once Einar is dead, I’ll be happy to go to whatever level you want, but right now is not the time.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “Besides, to me, you’re like this rare, exquisite diamond. The finest cut there is. To treat you as anything else would make you nothing more than a trinket from a dollar store. You deserve the sun and the moon and the universe, and until I can give that to you, the idea of us will have to be enough. Please try to understand.”
Charlotte nodded and swallowed the lump of pride in her throat. A slight laugh wisped out of her. “I feel like gladiators before the big fight, honing our blades of war instead of basking in the love that drives us to banish the evil around us.” She brushed her fingers over his hand. “I’m going to hold you to what you just said, you know that right?” She glanced up at him and smiled.
He pulled her into his arms, and she breathed him in, all of him, until she was drowning in the memory of his scent. His touch. She nodded and pushed off his chest. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she wasn’t above claiming the small victories. He’d done what he couldn’t do before. He admitted he loved her, and she admitted her feelings to him, and they made a vow to someday be together. She attached the promise to the delicate chain of wonderful memories holding her heart together. Knowing it was there flooded her entire being with a sense of calm and hope. Heaven knows she would need it to see her through the days that lay ahead. Now to keep the links of the chain from shattering.
“What do you have going on today?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Cut my hair. Do my nails. Officially accept my position as dragon slayer. Start my training with Mom and Pop. You know. The usual. What about you?”
David glanced toward the hillside. “Sweaty muscle work, as King Gildore calls it.”
“You mean, your father.”
“Yeah. Still having a hard time with that one, but I’m working on it. Anyway, the men are putting the wall around Hammershire back together. There they are now, trucking down the hill with staunch bravado.”
Charlotte laughed. “With what?”
David smiled. “It’s what my royal father said. Have you noticed how the lingo around here is so different? I must get a handle on it.”
“I suppose, if you’re planning on staying around. You’re not planning on staying here are you?”
David draped an arm across Charlotte’s shoulders and guided her through the archway toward the castle. “And trade Led Zeppelin for a harpsichord and chamber music? Neva!”
They laughed, and grass flourished at their feet.
David
Sunset spilled across the sky in vibrant oranges and reds.
David wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed the mini boulder in his arms into a pile of stones b
eside him. He’d been toiling all day alongside equally pained, hungry, and exhausted men collecting and sorting pieces of the wall that once surrounded Hammershire. At first, he wondered why they even bothered. After all, Einar would no doubt destroy it again, but as the day wore on, he found the manual labor to be cathartic and purposeful. So what if Einar destroyed it again in the future? That was then. This was now, and it felt good to put things back together, to join in a common goal for hope and peace even if his bones and muscles screamed in protest.
He pressed his back to a column supporting what little of the wall remained and turned his eyes to the east. For the past several hours, the skies over Berg Castle thundered and stormed. The scent of the downpour wafted across the Cloverleaf River, dark clouds threatening to blacken out the perfect skies over Hirth.
If the crisp, cool breeze was any indication, it wouldn’t be long before the hillside was caught in the deluge, which wouldn’t be a bad thing considering the trail of lush grass Charlotte had left behind.
“The beast is throwing a temper tantrum.” Trog said.
David startled at Trog’s voice. The knight lumbered toward him, a slight limp settled in his right leg.
Behind him, Eric’s surrogate father trudged up the road toward the castle, his tools in hand and a leather bag draped over his stooped shoulders. He reminded David of a beaten dog, and he wondered if the two men had spoken, and if they were able to console each other. A pang of sorrow pinched David’s heart. There they were, two fathers, one son. Both grieving in different ways, but in equal measurement. Both unable to speak of their connection openly.
Until now.
For so long, their secret haunted them, kept their hearts weighted. With Eric’s death, the load lifted, but another complication settled in. Every knight and warrior who witnessed Eric’s death had learned the truth that Trog was Eric’s father. Given time, the gossip would travel in hushed conversations throughout the castle’s hallways, private chambers, and into Fallhollow itself.
Even Seyekrad and Einar knew the truth for they, too, had witnessed Eric’s demise. Odds were, they also knew Trog’s place in the royal line as well. Not that it mattered. Einar had enough reason to kill Trog without him being the youngest heir. Still, if there was a way to make them believe Trog and he were their true threats, that would give Charlotte time to do her thing, to take him out. But how? He’d fry her before she ever got close enough. Then again, she hadn’t exactly cowered in his presence on the battlefield, and he hadn’t burned her then. Maybe, with a little mage training, she would be the most formidable foe Einar ever encountered. Fallhollow could only hope.
David squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in the rain-tinged air, the sound of distant thunder coalescing with the pounding in his head.
“Hey!”
David reeled back, the punch to his arm throbbing. He rubbed the spot and glared at Trog, fighting the impulse to shove back.
“Stop daydreaming and talk to me,” Trog demanded.
“What?”
“I asked you what we’re going to do about killing him.”
“How should I know? You’re the warrior.”
“Have you spoken with Charlotte?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“Has she discussed any ideas with you?”
“Are you kidding me, Trog? She just got her new title of dragon slayer this morning. She hasn’t had time to come up with a strategy. She’s barely had time to accept her parents are mages. I can tell you, though, she’s not too keen on the whole idea of killing. You know how she feels about that.”
“She needs to get past it if this realm is to survive.”
“She will and is, but you need to give her time.”
“We don’t have time.”
“Yes, we do. Maybe not a lot, but we’ll make it work. What we don’t have is a way to get rid of Seyekrad.”
Trog’s jaw tightened. “Slavandria will see to him. Seyekrad is not our problem.”
“How do you figure? Slavandria can’t kill him on her own. I saw the way he fought her in the woods. There’s something about his magic that is stronger. Deadlier. It threads and binds and drains the power from her. She’s going to need more than what she has to defeat him, and I don’t see any mages coming to the rescue. Until you get Seyekrad out of the way, no one is going to get close enough to Einar. That makes him our problem.”
“Jared will come with a fleet of allies. Mangus will also fight alongside us, not to mention there are elves, and fae, shime, and sestras, as well as a few other magical conspirators ready to play their parts when the time is right.”
“That won’t be enough, Trog. We need men. Fire power. Bombs. Hundreds of men died on the battlefield. You have hundreds more in the infirmary. There aren’t any more troops.”
“I’ll find them, and what are bombs?”
“Forget the bombs. Where are you going to find more men? Are you going to hire a necromancer to bring back the dead?”
Trog’s eyes flashed. “Do you know one?”
Yeah, David thought. Me. Sort of, if you can count gathering lilies and using them on dead people as a necromancy skill. He ran his fingers through his hair and took an exasperated breath. “No, and even if I did, I doubt I’d tell you. You’re not thinking straight. We need time. We need to meet with our allies. We’ve got to find other ways because going after a dragon with nothing more than a we have to kill him mentality is going to get us killed.” He hoisted a large chunk of stone to his shoulder.
Trog whirled David around, his face puffed and red with fury. The rock tumbled and thudded on the ground. “We don’t have time! He killed my son!” Spittle hit David’s brow. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that beast never breathes again, and if that means hiring a necromancer or selling my soul, so be it!”
“You’re talking revenge, Trog,” David said, wriggling out of Trog’s clutches. He wiped his face. “That’s not like you. I get you’re pissed. You have every right to be, but so does he. You killed his son, and he’s thinking the same way you are. You have to be smarter than him. You can’t go into this all fired up with anger and hate. You’re a knight. You think. You strategize. You go into the battle with your eyes open and your senses straight. It’s one of the things I’ve learned from being around you these past weeks, months, however long it’s been.”
Trog poked David in the chest. “Don’t tell me how I need to deal with my son’s death. We’re running out of time. You’re either with me or against me.”
David swept Trog’s hand away and steeled his gaze. “Then I’m against you, for now anyway. Maybe after a few days, some of this pain and anger will wear off. You’ll be more rational, more like the man I know.”
Trog squinted. “You think what I feel will go away in a few days? A few weeks? I’ve lost everything I treasure because of that vile beast!”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“What did you mean, boy? Spit it out.”
David hesitated, an image of a field, pregnant with life-giving lilies, taking root in his mind. “All I’m saying is you pride yourself on your rationality. If Eric was here, I’m not so sure you would be so willing to rush in and die in a blaze of glory.”
“You’re probably right,” Trog said, “but he’s not here, unless you have something you need to tell me.” His eyes narrowed.
David swallowed, his heart pounding frantically. “What does that mean?”
“You tell me. First, you mention necromancers, then resurrecting the dead. What’s going around in that brain of yours? What do you know?” He pressed closer to David, his breath hot and tinged with mint and rosemary. “Does Charlotte have such powers?” He shifted his weight. “Can she breathe life into the dead?”
David blinked. “No!”
“Then what are you babbling about?”
David pretended to think. Play dumb. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about him, w
ishing there was a way to change things, to bring him back. We were just starting to become friends, and I feel cheated and robbed that he’s gone. That got all these thoughts rolling around in my head. I mean, what if there is a way to do it? Bring him back? Would I? Should I? I mean, just because I can doesn’t mean I should, right? What would you do?” He had to know.
Trog’s gaze lingered on David, his peridot eyes sharp and cutting. “Depends on the terms of the magic, I suppose. It all has a price.”
“What if there was no price? What if you got your son back, no strings? Would you do it?”
Trog sucked air through his teeth. “Fine time to think of mortality and morality, but since you ask, I don’t know. My first instinct is to say ‘yes,’ but my gut says ‘no.’ Life has taught me everything comes at a cost. Nothing is without consequence.” He leveled his gaze at David. “What’s going through that head of yours?”
David stared at the ground and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was wondering if I had the power to bring him back, would it be the right thing to do?”
“Right thing for who?”
“I don’t know. You. Me. Eric.”
“David, morality is not a universal skin. Not everyone wears it the same. What is comfortable for me may not wear well with you. You have to be snug in your skin and never give it away or accept someone else’s version. If you do, you compromise everything you are. It’s one thing to listen and consider. It’s another thing altogether to part with your skin to appease someone else.” He pressed a hand on David’s shoulder, the weight oppressive and unrelenting. “I do not know what is going through your mind, but I will tell you this: I may be grieving right now. I may even make some stupid mistakes because of it, but no matter what, I am true to myself. You need to do the same. Listen to your gut. It will never lead you astray.” He removed his hand. “I’ll see you at supper. Oh, and don’t stay out here too long. It’ll be dark soon, and the skies won’t be able to stave off that storm much longer.”
Bane of the Dragon King Page 6