"Dragons dance, too, in our way," he said. "We dance in flight, weaving around each other in patterns. Couples might link claws or wing-tips, which allows all manner of moves a single dragon could not make, using each other as counterweight and resistance."
"Dragons dancing in the sky! I would give much to see such a thing."
"Oh, flight is ever an astonishment. Earthbounds live such dull, limited lives, without flight."
"You forget, I have experienced flight. When I was taken from my birthday procession, Rindargeth flew with me for the better part of a day and night. I must say, I never felt a desire to repeat the experience."
"Naturally not, I suppose, if you associate it only with terror and abduction. I assure you it is not always so, any more than the sea is always for drowning. In fact," his smile grew roguish, "since you have taught me not to fear the water, I feel it only right—my duty, in fact!—to teach you, in turn, not to fear the air."
"I, er... That is very kind of you, Braith, but—"
"I must insist."
"Perhaps we should first focus on our waltzing."
In fact, our waltz was proceeding not-too-poorly, considering the waves that continually nudged us one way or another, lifting us from our feet and setting us down again.
"You are picking this up quickly," I said, "for having never heard of a waltz until these ten minutes."
"The concept is simple enough. I have danced often in dragon-shape, this is only a—very—different form of the same thing."
In my mind's eye I saw Braith's white-and-gold figure twisting and twirling, diving and rolling in the air, weaving through innumerable other dragons of all colors—or perhaps just one other dragon, some beautiful gleaming lady-dragon. But no, he had denied ever having a mate. And there was no reason for me to find that thought so unpleasant in any case.
"This is perhaps as much as we should attempt this morning," Tristan called. "The wind grows stronger and we shall all turn to ice! In any case, our original purpose in coming was to summon the two of you for breakfast."
"Breakfast! Indeed, I had quite forgotten it," I laughed, "but now that I am reminded, I find I am ravenous. Let us go inside, then."
Genevieve seemed loathe now to leave the water. She helped Tristan to shore only as quickly as he forced her to, trailing a hand through the waves, looking over her shoulder at the whitecaps that stretched to the horizon. She smiled unceasingly, and there was a spark in her eyes now that I had never seen before. I shot Tristan a smile of my own, well pleased with the change he had helped work.
Even Owain could not damage our high spirits, when he came in to breakfast dirty and ill-tempered from working in the garden with Gareth and Elaysius. The fairy told several tales highlighting the relative gardening expertise of knight and simple boy, to Owain's discredit; Owain grew crankier the more we laughed, until Tristan at last appeased him with a tale of a weapons-training accident in which Owain came out quite the hero.
Owain's ill mood was the only discomfort of the entire breakfast. I did not realize until afterward that not a single harsh word was exchanged between Tristan and Braith, nor, for that matter, between Braith and myself. Admittedly, this was largely accomplished by Braith's not breathing a word throughout. I elected to count it a victory nonetheless.
Tristan, Genevieve and I carried the dirty dishes back to the kitchen for washing, and it came to my mind, as I bent to retrieve a dropped knife, that I still wore my damp swimming garb, which exposed my legs almost entirely.
"Dear heavens," I said, my face warming, "how immodest you must think me, Tristan. When I first came here, I could hardly bear to be out of full skirts, but such garments are so impractical here! And as I grew accustomed to our isolation, there seemed less and less reason to concern myself. I must make better efforts, with you and Owain here to see me."
"I think," Tristan said, "that it would be best to do likewise around the dragon, as well."
"Oh, do not be concerned. Dragons do not think of human women." Even as I spoke, I thought of Braith's reaction to my nude swim in the stream, and felt my cheeks darken.
"One does," Tristan said gravely, "or I am a goose-maid. It is neither modest nor kind to discomfit him."
"Did he seem discomfited?"
"He seemed…" Tristan shook his head, his face reflecting a sort of bitter amusement. "I pray, only dress with more care around him. Will you?"
"Yes, all right, I will. I will go dress now, if you like."
"Do."
I washed in the basin in my room, and made myself well-covered—a practical gray skirt and white shirt, with the added consideration of a blue overskirt and bodice. I might not look particularly royal, but none could call me less than dressed. I spread the wet shift over the balcony rail to dry, and from there saw Braith below, his tunic on the ground, picking most ill-advisedly at his stitches.
"Braith, cease that at once!"
He looked about, startled, then saw me overhead. "They itch," he called back. "I will have them out."
"It is probably time to remove them, but you will only injure yourself pulling at them in such a way. I shall be down directly with the proper tools."
I gathered the smallest tweezer and set of scissors from my medical supplies and hurried outside.
"Stand straight," I instructed, pushing Braith back against the wall of the tower.
"Here now, you will cut me!" he said, on seeing the scissors.
"Not if you are still. I have done this before, when your father was injured—and Gareth, too, after an unfortunate incident with a pitchfork. Be still, I said! Yes, it is quite time for these to be removed, before they are grown into your skin. Pulling them free may sting somewhat."
"I survived the putting in, I daresay I can survive the pulling—ouch!"
"Does the wound itself pain you? It looks as though it may be tender still."
"Only if it is touched, or if I twist—Curse it, Ariana, you have snipped me!"
"Because you would not be still!" I dabbed the blood away with the hem of his tunic—already quite dry. The advantages of being a living furnace! His hair, fallen entirely free of its braid, fell across his eyes and shoulders in gleaming, ragged-edged sheets.
"I believe I could return to my true form now, without doing myself harm," he said. "Though I should prefer to wait another two or three days. I've no particular craving to live through this process all over again."
I snipped and pulled out bits of thread, making my way down his chest. Snip and pull, snip and pull. When I reached his belly, his very skin seemed suddenly to shy from me.
I could not contain a fiendish grin. "Why, Braith, are you ticklish?"
"One does not tickle a dragon!"
"Oh, I think perhaps one does."
"Auk! No, cease that at once, Ari! No!" He grabbed my hands, managing to laugh and glare simultaneously. "Skies above, humans have the very coldest hands!"
"Do you know, I had not thought of that. If dragons feel hot to me, I suppose it only logical that humans feel cool to you."
"Indeed, some call you fishbellies."
"Is it so unpleasant?"
"Not... not always. Many pleasant things are cool—a breeze, a drink—an autumn swim—a hand, even, when one is fevered..." He brushed his thumbs back and forth across my hands—when had our fingers interlaced?
I swallowed, and cast about for a new topic. "I suppose also that we smell as strange to you as you to us."
"Humans smell always of earth and salt. At the moment, also seawater," he leaned close, inhaling, "and bread, smoke from the cook-fire, and of course your own particular dusty bitter-sweetness… That scent is all over the tower, you know. One can hardly escape it."
This new topic had not aided the situation at all.
"But humans in general," he continued, as if determined to keep talking and not let silence fall, "do not smell as strongly as dragons do. In comparison the scent is strange, perhaps, but quite subtle and not… necessarily unpleasant.
"
He faltered. Silence fell after all. I could smell ice and smoke, and feel the heat radiating from his chest, and his breath in my hair.
"Dragons do not think of human women."
"One does, or I am a goose-maid."
"I must see to Tristan," I said, more loudly than necessary. "Make sure his leg has come to no harm from the swim." I pulled my hands free, turned and departed as quickly as my shaking knees would take me.
Behind me, I heard something very like a fist hitting a stone wall, but I did not turn round.
Chapter 10
Idid not go to Tristan. I went instead to the top of the tower. Though open to the sky, it was the most secure place I could think of, the place where no one would come—for who had reason, with Braith too weak to fly, and Rindargeth gone?
I sat with my back to the parapet, knees drawn to my chest, and found myself worrying Rindargeth's mittens in my hands.
Fact the first. Attraction is not love, I said firmly to myself.
Fact the second. All my firmness faded to a terrified whisper. You are attracted to Braith.
I sat for some minutes, breathing carefully, forcing myself to become accustomed to these two facts, and flee from neither. My hands shook. They seemed to belong to someone else.
Fact the third. You are to marry Tristan, who is a good man who loves you, and whom you love in return. Therefore, this... other matter... is irrelevant.
After all, even treating love as a consideration in the marriage of a princess—which it was not—attraction was but one of a host of love's ingredients. Trust, respect, and unselfish caring were considerably more important. Tristan and I trusted, respected and cared for each other. And he was not, after all, an unattractive man—far from it. If there was nothing about him that... arrested my attention the way Braith did, what did that matter? It would come, in time, and if it did not, still it did not matter. Still we had a bond of deeper quality and longer standing than I could share with Braith. How could we not?
The stones here still smelled somewhat of Rindargeth, fire and metal and smoke. I stayed there, watching clouds creep across the sky, breathing with the rhythm of the surf far below. I did not get to my feet until I felt steady again, and certain that I could be in Braith's company without causing pain to either of us. As Tristan had said, it was neither modest nor kind to encourage him. I must take care to disappoint him as gently as possible.
Why in the world had he chosen me, in any case? It baffled me that he would feel so toward any human woman, he who had such contempt for humans in general, but particularly me. Genevieve was far prettier, of a much more peaceful disposition, and considerably less betrothed. Why could he not address his attentions to her?
But perhaps I was attaching entirely too much significance to... what? A few touches, a tone of voice? These things might mean different things, or nothing at all, to a dragon. I might well be distressing myself over nothing.
I breathed deeply, straightened my dress and hair, and came down the stairs.
A voice drifted up the stairwell as I drifted down it—Elaysius's voice, unmistakable, but originating from Genevieve's chamber rather than his own.
"Of course I shall keep thy secret, dear friend, as long as thou wishest," he said, "but I do recommend thou sharest it. Truly, none will react with scorn or consternation, if that is what thou fearest. All here know and love thee, and there is nothing to cause thee shame. It solves a mystery, that is all." A pause. "I think, perhaps, it is not our opinions thou fearest, but the opinion of one... newer to the household. Is it not so?" He sighed. "Dear Genevieve, I fear those are hopes I cannot encourage."
Solving a mystery? There were so many mysteries associated with Genevieve, I did not even know which to suspect Elaysius of solving. As for hopes that could not be encouraged… Well. I had been making a great effort not to suspect that very thing. Poor Genevieve. Could no one in this household choose a sweetheart wisely? But a princess, I told myself, did not eavesdrop. I resumed my pace, taking care to make a clatter on the steps.
Elaysius's voice ceased immediately, and as I descended into Genevieve's chamber, it was to find the two of them leaving it. Genevieve stepped onto the stairs with her arms full of bed linens, presumably to be aired and beaten, while Elaysius flipped and leaped about in the air above her head, swinging his sword at fancied foes.
"Ah, greetings, fairest princess!" he called upon seeing me, and burst into one of his sillier songs, the ballad of a washer-woman who married a mule.
"I will help you with those, Gen," I said and followed her down the stairs, sternly schooling myself not to worry over words I should not have heard to begin with.
We saw no sign of Braith for most of the day. Tristan was clearly pleased by this absence; he was in higher spirits than I had seen since his arrival, dogging our steps as Genevieve and I aired the linens, scrubbed the kitchen floor, and sat on rocks in the shade to mend clothes.
"I do wonder where Braith has gone off to," I said, tying off a decidedly ill-looking seam in the elbow of one of Gareth's tunics. "Oh, yes, do laugh at my efforts, Genevieve, you who have only to wink at a needle and see it do your bidding! Only look at the artistry that is her stitches, Tristan. She is a great deal better at all lady-tasks than I, I am sorry to say."
Tristan peered at the half-done mending in Genevieve's lap, looking startled. "Indeed, I have never seen their like."
"Whereas I have seen Winifred—yes, Winifred, the horse!—sneer at mine as if she could do better. I sometimes think she could. But I do wonder where Braith has gone off to. We could use his help."
"What could the dragon possibly help with?"
"Firewood," I said at once. "Rindargeth left us a considerable store, but it is getting thin now, and none of us may fetch more, for we cannot go into the forest. No more than a few paces, at least."
Tristan considered this, then nodded. "Yes, I should like to see him fetch firewood. Hard labor can only aid his character, and I could have the pleasure of drinking ale in a comfortable chair throughout."
I opened my mouth to mention that, in fact, someone might go under the circle to fetch wood, but caught the words before they were spoken. If Tristan and Owain knew that escape was possible, it would not take long for them to bring an army down upon Braith. "Where is your brother?" I asked instead. "I saw him in the pasture with Gareth before, but I do not see him now." Squinting down the hill, I could see Gareth playing some sort of game with Winifred and old Nob, running and laughing; Owain was nowhere in sight.
"He declared that his horse stood in need of a ride," Tristan said, "and went to circle the perimeter. I believe he grows restless."
"Very natural, I suppose," I said. "He prepared for a battle and found a siege."
"Yes, our current situation is… unexpected, to say the least."
I braced myself for a renewal of his attempts to make me consent to Braith's death, but he said nothing, only gazing thoughtfully into the distance. This silence made me uneasy; any plan I did not know of, I could not object to.
I endeavored to keep Tristan as busy as I might, which seemed actually to please him. Under our supervision, he tried his hand at stitching, shelling peas, and even churning butter. This last took place by the kitchen window, with him and Elaysius cheerily bellowing a sailor's chanty in very bad harmony. Genevieve and I plugged our ears and ran outside, giggling.
"Idiot boy!"
The shout drifted up the hillside just as I dropped my fingers from my ears. I turned and looked down the hill. Just outside the stable, Owain's horse sidled anxiously, still decked out for riding, while Owain stormed past him, clutching Gareth by the collar. He shouted some more—quick words I could not make out over the distance—and shoved Gareth to the ground.
"Genevieve," I said. "Go in, and make certain Tristan and Elaysius stay in as well." I began marching down the hill, rolling my sleeves up past my elbows.
"You wish to touch my things?" Owain shouted as I approached. "You w
ish to besmear them with your filthy paws? What, think you to be a knight someday? I will teach you to touch my things, simpleton!" Gareth had gotten to his feet, cringing and weeping; Owain now struck him down again with a blow to the face, and pulled back a foot to kick.
He stopped mid-motion when a sharp edge of steel pressed gently to the side of his neck.
"Finger-smeared it might be," Braith said, conversationally, "but I think it has taken no hurt. It is as sharp as ever it was, do you not agree?"
I stood as frozen as Owain, too far up the hillside to be in their easy sight.
"You have been very cleverly avoiding me, dragon," Owain said, lowering his foot onto earth.
"Whyever would I do that."
"You risk much, in your current action. Which of us will call bluff on the other? It is a pretty problem. Is he worth it? This idiot boy?"
"He is worth ten of you at the least."
"Oh, I know how highly you value my life, but is he worth yours?"
From Braith I expected a derogatory comment on Owain's ability to kill a dragon. Instead, he said, "Perhaps he is. You might, then, consider what you are sacrificing for the right to beat a stableboy."
I frowned, trying to make sense of the words.
Owain gave a tight, sardonic smile, then at last said, "Get up, stableboy, and out of my sight. I hope you have learned not to mess about with others' belongings."
"Aye, sir prince, sir. Yes, good sir," Gareth stammered, and fled.
Yet Braith did not lower the sword. And Owain smiled still, in a way that I found I did not like.
"The sword will do you little good now, Braithandelgar—"
"Ho there, gentlemen, this game has gone far enough, has it not?" I called heartily, fairly skipping down the remainder of the hillside. "It is my own fault, of course, for forgetting your natural enmity. I must apologize to you both for letting my guests find themselves in such a pickle. Come now, Braith, lay down arms. You know I have vowed to protect the princes from you as much as the inverse. Do not make me forsworn." I edged myself between them, my back to Owain's, and pressed my hand gently to Braith's extended arm. His face was tight, nostrils flared, and he did not look away from Owain, though a quiver in his arm seemed to betray awareness of my presence. "Come, Braith," I said softly, "I cannot permit you to harm the prince. However richly he deserves it."
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