Chapter 26
After two silent days, Luitgard and Justin entered Florence. Though this meant they would be in Rome in just over a week, she had difficulty feeling happy about it. She had been wakened by the tortured screams of her Dragonfather too many times and even just water dripping from a bucket made her ready to strangle the first person who crossed her.
Justin's betrayal had done little to help her mood. He had tried to explain himself on several occasions but she had heard all of his arguments before. He would go on and on about how he had done it to protect her, how they would be of no help to anyone dead. She said nothing when he talked.
He did not have to listen to the screams night after night. He did not have to feel the guilt of seeing her massacred home. Why could he not understand how important it was that they get there as fast as possible? A man's life was on the line; the last one she could save. It was a miracle he had survived the torture this long. His body and mind might already be beyond repair, but there was a chance she was not too late.
Justin seemed incapable of understanding any of that. His little stunt had broken the fragile bond between them. Even if she had wanted to fix it, she doubted it would ever mend. With the Mintharchs dead, she knew that after they saved Dragonfather in Rome, she would send Justin on his own way.
Perhaps his God would finally show him the truth he so wanted to find.
By the time they pulled up to an inn in Florence, Luitgard's lips were cracked and her throat dry. The fabric of her dress was too heavy for the humid heat even despite her switching back to her peasant clothes which were lighter and looser than Klára's dress.
Justin offered to help her dismount. She ignored his offered hand and grit her teeth as she slid from the saddle. Her thighs and backside gave long groans of protest as she stretched them. It never seemed to get any easier.
The church bells began their evening chimes. Luitgard scowled. Every reminder of their twisted religion dug her anguish deeper. They were the reason she was where she was now. They were the reason Dragonfather was being tortured. They were the reason her people were dead. Justin had been one of them. He had led them to her and to the others. He may have burned his robes but his belief in that god was as much to blame as anything else to do with the Church.
Dragonfather had taken her to Rome to teach her as much. He wanted to be sure she understood the importance of keeping the people safe. He wanted to be sure she understood why she could not again go off on adventures in the rest of the world. He had known what the Church did to people, even good people.
She tried to swallow but her throat was too dry. The effort simply lodged the painful lump more firmly in place.
She entered the room. Justin was at her back.
When she flopped onto the bed, he spoke. "Can I get anything for you?" he asked.
"No," she muttered into the blanket.
"You need to drink something at least," he said.
She closed her eyes tightly. "If you were going to insist on getting me something anyway, why did you bother asking?"
"I'm just trying to help," he said.
She pushed herself up. "Then stop it," she barked as she stood and began to pace. "You make everything worse with your noble intentions. You seek God's truth and bring down an entire race in the process. You seek to get me rest and possibly allow the man we are trying to save be killed. Just stop helping!"
"You're just tired from the ... "
"Yes, I'm tired," she yelled. "I'm sore. I'm exhausted in every part of my being but I am mostly sick of you. Get out. I don't want you to help me anymore. Just get out. I'll get to Rome on my own."
The colour rose in his cheeks. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again. He tugged at the bag of coins secured beneath his surcoat and threw them at her chest. She tried to catch them but her reflexes were too slow. The bag hit the floor with a thunk and coins spilled from the top onto the floorboards.
He left, slamming the door behind him.
Let the cursed bastard be mad. He was the reason everything in her life had rotted. If he had never shown up, she would be happily praying over the evening meal after another productive day. Her people would be safe and secure and so would she.
He was being so selfish, treating her like his precious pet to be cared for all the time. She was the leader of a once great people. She had been responsible for all of their lives. She answered to no one except her own conscience. She had had great responsibilities.
... And she had failed in them all.
Her stomach flipped over and her fingers shook. Her knees wobbled. She slowly descended to the floor. She sat clutching her stomach.
What had she done? She had made all the decisions. She had been the one who insisted on going to Rome. She had decided not to turn back. Justin wanted to flee the church. She was the one who still sought it out. He had stayed up longer than his fair share every single night on the road. He had spent every moment thinking only of her well-being. He was risking his life staying with her. He was being tormented by Merek, his greatest fear, for her sake.
Her mouth was still dry, her lips as painfully cracked as ever, yet her grief ran deep enough that her body found the tears.
"I'm sorry!" she cried.
It was an apology to Justin, to Dragonfather, to the Goddess, and to the Mintharchs. She had failed them all. There was nothing left in her worthy of being called a leader.
When Justin did not return to the inn that night, Luitgard's despair only deepened. She did not blame him for not coming back. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how difficult it must have been to tolerate her. With him gone, she realized how much she needed him there; not just for his role as her escort, but because she truly did love him too. Even if she could not tell him that until it was all over, she at least wanted to have that chance. But she destroyed her own chances.
She lay in bed awake, listening to the creaks of the floor boards as the other guests and the staff moved about the inn. She stared at the ceiling beams, then at the floorboards as she draped her leg over the edge of the bed. The sun set and the sounds of the city lessened into an eerie silence punctuated by random barks or shouts.
She stayed where she was and waited.
The room was still dark when her cheek was caressed. She started and opened her eyes.
"Justin?" she asked to the figure above her.
"No, my little pagan. Has that bastard run out on you?"
She pulled away, trying to press herself against the wall. She knew better than to believe the sweetness in Merek's tone.
"What are you doing here?"
"Making sure you're alright," he said. "I saw Justin leave earlier. You should have known better than to trust someone like him."
"But I can trust someone like you?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Of course not, but that still doesn't mean you should have ever trusted him."
"What do you mean?"
"I told him how to find you," he said low. "I told him exactly what he would find. I even told him what your dear old grandfather would call you, little Filia Draconis. He knew it all. Do you honestly think he was looking for God's truth? He was looking for you, little one."
"Get away from me."
If it had not been for 'Filia Draconis', she would have ignored every word. She knew how much he wanted to hurt both her and Justin. She knew how willing he was to lie to cause that strife. But he knew that Justin had known the name. As she failed to push herself further into the wall, Merek's words pricked at her brain and continued their attempts to burrow inside.
"He has led you to me just like I wanted."
She closed her eyes tightly as she tried to pretend Merek was not there. She would not let him in. She reminded herself that Justin had told her he had learned it all from Merek. Nothing of what was said now contradicted that.
"If I am so important to you," she said, "Then why have you not made your move. You have had plenty of opportunity. Even more if Justin is hel
ping you as you claim."
He leaned close. She could feel his breath on the side of her neck. It made her want to vomit and claw off her own skin.
"What makes you think I haven't," he whispered. When she did not respond, he asked, "Have you ever seen a dragon? Such a rare thing, they are. Some even claim they are only myth. But you and I know better."
"What are you talking about?" She asked even as she tried to pull away. The corner stopped her. She was trapped.
"The most power a mortal man can ever hope to achieve is that of a dragon, Filia Draconis. Your grandfather learned that. Those impenetrable scales ... I will never get them out of my mind. I could topple kingdoms. Those sparkling white points ... " He was breathing so heavily, she expected him to pant outright.
"You are insane," she said.
"An opinion I'm sure you've held for some time," he breathed into her neck. He lifted his hand and ran a single nail down her throat then grabbed her neck with his fingers and held tight. His nails dug into her flesh. When she tried to push him away, she found a knife pressed to the other side of her throat. She held still.
He brushed her cheek with his and held it there. Their skin was barely touching. The lightness of it felt like being covered in a swarm of insects. His calm, slow breaths tickled her ear. Her own were shallow and rapid in her anticipation of his attack. But it did not come. He simply stayed there, breathing against her.
Finally, after several more moments passed, he pulled away, withdrawing the knife in the process. "You are mine," he said. "We will see you in Rome."
He spun out of the room, the door closing quickly but silently behind him.
She stared into the darkness of the opposite wall, unsure of what exactly had happened. Part of her wished he had just gutted her right there. The memory of his breath upon her and just ... silence was far worse.