Dragon Kin

28

He's not the only dragon in the room. In fact, I believed that I was the only non-dragon in the room. Guards and servers ripped away their clothing and shifted — all around me. They rippled with muscle and flame, and armor.

The dragons roared and clashed. Max's wings retracted as he hammered on the men trying to pull him down. The guards and servers working together, optimizing their strengths, brought Uncle Max to the ground, and were struggling to get a set of manacles on his arms. They were made of bright steel.

"Alicja?!" Victor's commanding voice cut through my shock.

"Yes?" I said, looking to him.

"Go to your room, please? Please."

"My room? OK." I said, and ran from the great hall for my room.

"No!" Max roared after me. "The bargain! The bargain! The bargain!

I covered my ears and ran. I wasn't going to kill him! No! I'm not a Morrigan!

...

"Hey," I said, sitting down, the dark of morning unmarred yet by the rising dawn — still beautiful and chill. "Can't sleep?"

Victor glances over to me, and puts his hand on my thigh as I settle.

"He's going to be alright," I said, putting my hands on his.

"Is he though?" Victor asked, his voice tired and heavy. "Is that what's going to happen, Alicja?"

I bit my lip. Uncle Max may be starting into the madness. The effect he described to me at our first dinner — when he wanted to ask me to kill him if I had the power. If I became a Morrigan.

Meeting Victor's eyes now, I feel a chill that had nothing to do with being outside. He rolls his large round shoulders, and flexes his back, then rolls his neck. "What was that he kept yelling at you about? When we were fighting him into the cell?"

Shit. I don't want to talk about this. Not now. Not ever, really. I can't think of a day I might want to talk about this. Not with anyone, but especially not with him. If there is a day, it's not today.

"You don't want to talk about it," he said, and looked away. "Then don't."

I sigh. My shoulders slump. His damn nose. He could smell me preparing to lie or evade — they smell the same he says.

I rake my lip with my teeth, "I'm sorry that's going to take a lot to get accustomed to. It's a social upbringing thing. I don't want you to misunderstand or ... accuse me of anything ... or ..." I lifted my hands and then clapped them back on my thighs. I looked out across the river — A thousand miles away would be good right now. I mean, if I wouldn't explode or anything.

"...to not like me," I finished with a sigh.

His head falls back and he stares up at their extra moon, far away, so peaceful it must be way out there... if he wouldn't explode or something.

He nods his head, and sits forward. "I understand. Knowing and being bonded is one thing. Trust is another. And so fragile. After Ocean, I'm not all that trusting either. Except... fuck... I don't know... What is there to do? Hate him? I'm not sure I can."

The change in topic gives me whiplash. Am I off the hook? By some miracle did we just jump out of Uncle Max and into Ocean? Because I know what I feel about Ocean.

"You don't need to hate him. Just don't forget him," I said. "Forgiveness is not forgetting that someone is willing to betray you given the right reason."

Did I just quote pseudo-psychology at him? Where did I get that from?

"It amounted to treason — not to bring us back," he said, and I can't smell him, but he's looking defeated.

I took a breath. "I mean, I don't know what you two really mean to each other," I said. "But he really seems like a bright, intelligent person. Someone with serious problem solving skills."

"Sure," he said, sitting up and looking at me. "He is. It's his job."

"And with all of that he couldn't figure out a way to appease both his loyalty to the city, and to you? Nothing? Not even the attempt?" I asked.

Frustration hit me, and I shook my head and lifted my hands.

"Look," I said, putting my hand on his thigh. "Your call. You make the call on this. Forgive him or don't. Rebuild or don't. I will trust your call on this. OK? I'm committed to you, not him."

He examined me and my resolve for a long moment, his brows near touching. "Committed?" he asked.

"Don't make it more than it is," I sneered, sitting back and adjusting my sheet. "It's what they use to call locking someone in an insane asylum."

His eyebrows peaked, "That's remarkably apt right now."

"You talk funny. I'm going back to bed," I said, and kissed him.