Fang helped Valen shower, washed his hair and combed it, then dabbed antiseptic on his split brow and lips with a clean cloth. She helped him get into the soft charcoal robe that was his favorite, the one she'd put on the night she'd come to the mountain so desperate for money she hadn't considered the risks. Afterwards Fang put on her green wrapper, the one she loved wearing around the suite because it was so unbelievably soft and warm. Valen took the medication Mayra had left, and though neither of them were really hungry Fang asked for two small meals to be brought to the suite. They ate in silence, Valen moving slowly so he wouldn't jar his wrist and Fang too wrung out to speak. She poured him another cup of warm tea and gathered the dishes, setting them in the hall before coming back to the couch and pushing her way back under his good arm and wrapping her arms around him.
"Trying to wear my robe again?" Valen yawned, the medicine beginning to do its work. "If I remember correctly, you looked very pretty in it."
Fang buried her face in the lapel. Please, don't do this. I almost lost you, don't make me think about what it was like before I knew you. It had been merely weeks since then, but thinking about the nights spent huddled under thin blankets and the days working for a few bok was so much worse now that there was an additional element missing. Sleeping with Drass men for money had paid some rent and for a few meals, but Fang could sleep with a hundred Drass and not feel what she had this morning. The thought of sleeping with any other Drass – or even a human – just seemed perverse now, like the idea itself meant she was betraying this sweet, giving young man who'd almost gotten himself destroyed for her.
"Fang?" Valen picked his arm up and tried to catch her eye. "Fang, what's wrong? I mean, I know you're upset, but it's over now, it's really over. You don't have to worry about Tias anymore."
"I'm not worried about Tias, flathead," Fang sniffed, "Tias can go pound snow. Did you ever think that somebody might worry about you?"
Valen's ears dropped and he looked genuinely baffled. "No...? Wait, I thought you were mad at me."
"I can be two things at the same time, shorthorns. Just... let me be mad, I'll get over it." And then I can focus on getting over you. Fang sniffed again, this time focusing on the scent of incense ash, charcoal, and minerals. As long as she lived Fang would associate the smell of fire and hot springs with him, the weight of silk robes and the sensation of fullness after a meal always bringing here here to this place, the warm rooms laid with thick rugs and furniture padded with plush cushions embroidered with golden designs. Not because of the things, but because she'd experienced them with him. Even as she tried to tell herself she'd eventually 'get over' her feelings, Fang saw how ridiculous the idea was – no matter where she went, no matter how far, there would be no getting over Valen.
Ashes, I am so screwed.
Nodding, Valen opened his mouth to speak but his words disappeared in a jaw-cracking yawn. "Ey-hyah!" He paused and shook his head. "I think I'm falling asleep sitting up. What time is it?"
Fang was exhausted too. "Who cares, let's go lie down." Though hardly a luxury these days, the thought of taking a midday nap on a full stomach next to a warm Drass still held the appeal of a good fire with a hot drink on a cold night. Perhaps after she rested she might be able to ignore the feeling in her chest like her sternum was slowly pulling itself apart and her ribs were squeezing her heart like cruel iron claws – would it hurt twice as much if she had two hearts like a Drass, or did Drass experience something different when their hearts were broken?
Fang pondered this as she coaxed Valen to bed, fussing over his pillows and settling down next to him as close as she dared; he favored his wrist with the skittishness of a young manyu and that made Fang's heart hurt. "Sorry," Valen apologized when he shied away from her as she tried to get comfortable, "I've never broken anything before."
"Shh, it's fine. I know it hurts." At least bone will heal. "I broke my finger when I was eighteen, it got caught in the door of a laundry machine and that hurt like hell." She showed him her right hand, the ring finger of which looked completely normal. "It healed fine, it just wasn't a lot of fun for a few weeks."
Valen let his arm lay on his chest, leaning towards Fang to rest his head on her shoulder. Fang slid her arm behind him and encouraged him to put more weight on her. "Are you sure? I'm heavy."
"Not as heavy as you think." Pulling up the quilts Fang tucked them around Valen's chest and began to stroke his hair. Like all Drass the hair on his head was dense and fairly soft, the strands a little thicker than human hair and tending towards straight. Being a dwarf, Valen's hair seemed finer and the texture was wavier. Fang pulled her fingers through it slowly, wondering how Valen's actions that morning were justified. "What was that 'champion's right' you claimed? Is that some Drass thing nobody does anymore?"
Valen yawned again and nuzzled her arm. "It's an old Drassian tradition – we used to behead our enemies when we defeated them, and when that wasn't acceptable anymore someone decided that it would be more humiliating to cut off their horns. But that's dangerous because it takes months for that kind of cut to heal, and it can get infected easily. People died from it, so I guess someone thought cutting hair would be close enough."
"You just cut one hair, though. How is that supposed to humiliate Tias?"
"Tias cares what the people think about him," Valen sighed and closed his eyes, his cheek to Fang's neck. "He's going to be the next Dragon Emperor, he needs our people to respect him or the Empire will fall apart. Just like I told him, the only people who need to know are you, me and him – now when he takes the Dragon Throne he'll know that he can only do that because I decided to let him."
Fang remembered the look on Tias's brick-colored face. He'd seemed more confused than concerned, though Drass faces weren't as flexible as humans. Perhaps she'd misread the expression because Tias had been upside-down and on his back. "You really don't think he'll try anything else?"
Valen shook his head. "He underestimated me, and it almost made him lose everything – he won't try again because he doesn't like to lose twice to the same person." Wiggling his good arm around Fang, he squeezed her. "It's really over, I promise."
"It better be, or else both of you are going to find out just how much of a bitch I can be."
"I'll make sure I tell him that next time I see him. Which, I realize now, will probably be at the reception ball when I make you my Lady Consort."
The bottom dropped out of the pit in Fang's stomach. That's right, he's making me like 'Sana, Yena and Shisa. I'll basically be a princess, the first human Drassian in history. Valen was certainly heavy compared to her smaller frame, but nothing seemed heavier at that moment than the ascension to true royalty that would take place in just a few days' time. I don't know if I can do this, but I can't back out now. Not after everything Valen's done for me, not after he almost died to keep me safe. Not just safe either – he'd kept her comfortable, kept her company when he could, and made sure she had the absolute best of everything from food, clothes and an education in how to act like a Drassian. Fang could walk, dance, eat and look bored with the best of them now, hopefully she would pass for real nobility when the Federation envoy arrived and billions of eyes were watching. Human and Drass.
Fang looked down to distract herself from the anxious tightness in her throat and found Valen asleep, leaning on her with his forehead tucked into the space between her neck and chest. Of course he's exhausted, he was fighting for his life an hour ago. His life, and hers. Looking at him from above Fang considered how young he looked, very much indeed like a Drass not yet fully-grown. He's just a baby, as long as they live. Barely an adult, and he has all of this responsibility on his shoulders now because of me. He'd done everything for her – arguing with his father to try to set her free, providing her with clothing fit for nobility, defending her from his brother and integrating her into the circle of Lady Consorts – with so much commitment it was amazing he had time for anything else. And there were the other, myriad small things he did that weren't necessary: talking to her about her own life, not just the basic lives of humans; revealing the dark secret he carried that had done so much damage to his confidence; learning how she liked to be touched and kissed and employing what he learned with startling finesse. I don't think he loves me, but I do think he cares enough about me to keep me happy. Or at least content.
In truth, the idea that Valen might love her scared Fang more than anything. If he does love me, what does that mean for us? Valen was still so young, he might grow out of whatever feelings he did have for her or come to realize that he needed another Drass to feel completely at ease and understood. Fang could never fully understand what it was like to grow up not just as a Drassian, but as a part of a culture that was literally alien to Fang; humans had known of other life for a long time now, had lived among them and in some cases even become naturalized on other planets like that biologist who spent the rest of her life on Dreenai, but that would never take the place of being born and raised as one of their own. Some day she and Valen would come up against an issue or belief that they couldn't agree on, and there would be nothing they could do to bridge that rift. It's better that he doesn't love me, that would make it so much harder for him to let me go. Even if he didn't love her, the thought that he might find a Drass woman pierced a hole in Fang's heart that burned like being run through with a lance. The real ache would begin after the shock wore off and she'd come to terms with the idea of dying.
Running her fingers through the sleeping Dragon Prince's hair, Fang let her eyes wander over and soak in the face she'd come to know better than her own. She knew by now the pattern of scales on his cheeks, chin and forehead, and she knew how to read the subtle expressions he made with tiny movements of his ears and tail. Fang knew the different shades of orange in his eyes and how they reacted in varying lights – they reflected a glassy yellow in the dark, while bright sunlight turned them rose-gold. He's beautiful, in a weird way. The first humans to see a Drass compared them to demons or dragons, describing them as simultaneously monstrous and familiar. It's the eyes – there's something eerie about their eyes, like looking at my own face in a mirror. Did Drass feel the same way about humans? Did Valen also feel that sense of uncanny intelligence when he looked at her? He's so smart, smarter than me. More educated, and certainly better-versed in life as a Drassian. Fang wondered how long she'd have to play the part before it all came collapsing down.
We have talked about staying friends, maybe that would be best. I don't know if I could handle sticking around if we broke it off, though. I don't know if I could let go if I stayed here. She owned a fortune in robes now, and a separate one in jewelry and accessories - she could go anywhere she pleased, and she would never have to worry about finding a place to stay or getting enough to eat for as long as she lived. Getting away once the colony was settled would be far easier and very likely her best choice, but the prospect of leaving Valen – even after the relationship broke down – seemed like a different kind of hell compared to poverty. Sleeping alone in the warmest, softest, most luxurious bed would be no better than sleeping on bare ground; the richest foods and finest meals would be even less satisfying than starvation. It wouldn't be worth it without him.
So she couldn't stay, but she didn't want to leave. If he loved her, he wouldn't be able to let her go and that would break his promise. If he didn't love her but they kept up the charade longer than their affection could last, they would grow to hate each other. Fang dreaded the day Valen came to her and told her it was time to go, but at the same time she knew it would be best for both of them. And if a Drass woman came to take her place, Fang already knew it would rip her apart. No matter how she looked at their situation, from every angle, in every circumstance, the end result would be the same. However her time with the Dragon Prince ended, Fang knew that while she would physically survive (and do so comfortably) her heart would wither and die like a delicate teaflower blossom in Anun's bitter winter storms. Anywhere she called home would be empty, everywhere she went a lonely, bleak expanse of grim emptiness.
What the hell am I supposed to do?!