A Shade of Dragon 2

  “Can you light another fire in here?” Michelle asked, shattering my thoughts. “You have no idea how cold this is.” Her fox furs had been tightened around her body again as I’d been staring off into oblivion.

  I grimaced and shook my head. “No, I can’t build another fire. The fire for Khem was already one fire too many. It was… foolish.”

  But I’d had to do it. Perhaps I was a slave to tradition.

  “Well, in that case… can you spare some of your big coat?” She was referring, I assumed, to the bearskin mantle draped over my shoulders. I supposed it did give sufficient warmth; besides, to share in the body heat of a fire dragon was no insignificant detail. It was like cuddling next to an open stove.

  I opened my mantle and allowed her to share its warmth. “I wonder what time it is,” she grumbled.

  “Deep night,” I answered her.

  “So, like, two.”

  “Midnight.”

  “Let’s call it one-thirty. Do you think we’re safe enough to get some sleep?”

  “I do not know that I could sleep,” I muttered.

  “Well, then, will you just lie down with me until I fall asleep?” The desperation which gilded her voice gave me pause, and I looked closer. Her eyes were shiny with panic. Her makeup had worn away as the night had progressed, and now her lips seemed colorless and rough. Her mascara was smudged and flaked onto her cheekbones.

  She looked like a different woman. The securities of her world had been stripped away, and as the new reality sank in—for the sake of weeping goddesses, had she not just seen a man in his final moments?—she had become more of an animal. People like Michelle, the privileged, the elite, of any society, became the most ruthless in such scenarios, my father had once told me.

  “And you can get that stupid look off your face,” she added. “I’m not scared. I’m not all, like, ‘Ohhh, hold me, Theon’; it’s just that you’re crazy hot, and I’m cold, and I’m tired.”

  “All right,” I told her. “I meant no disrespect… with my face.” Clearing my throat, I pulled her with me through the shop, our bodies connected in a halo of warmth by the bearskin mantle and my own natural heat. Meanwhile, I tried to shake the heavy specters of doubt. Altair… and my father… Nell… Khem… I felt them all twisting and shriveling away from me, becoming gray and weightless.

  The back room of the place had a cot.

  “Here we are,” I announced. “I will lie down. I know it must be uncomfortable… to be an Earth woman in these conditions.”

  Michelle gave me a stormy look, but didn’t comment, and the two of us lowered gingerly onto the paper-thin mattress. “Oh, my God, these people live in total poverty,” she moaned.

  “They have rich and prosperous lives. It is you who live in obscene wealth.”

  “No more obscene than a castle, Theon!” she snapped. “Just… shut up.” Michelle wiggled closer to me, until our sides touched. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” she asked. I glanced down at her and saw, in the darkness, how she nibbled her lower lip. “Please?”

  “You don’t need to do that… with your face,” I told her, smirking slightly in spite of myself. “You can put your head on my shoulder. I know of our temperatures compared to yours.”

  “Yep, that’s the reason,” she agreed, curling against me with the familiarity of a former lover. She threw one of her thighs over mine and laid her hand across my chest.

  I had a lot on my mind. I couldn’t be distracted by the nonsensical patterns she was drawing on my chest.

  “Sorry about your friend,” Michelle whispered, drawing my eyes back to her. “Really. I am.”

  I hesitated, genuinely surprised. I summoned a smile, however unconvincing. I couldn’t think of what exactly to say. “Thank you.” There it was. The only thing one could say.

  “I have to tell you that I admire your strength,” she went on. “I mean, this night has been hell for you, hasn’t it? I would be an utter wreck, if I was you.”

  Grim tidings.

  “Thank you again, I suppose,” I said. “But I was once told that an Earth man gained fame for the insight that war is hell.”

  “I didn’t even mean that,” Michelle murmured.

  I propped myself onto my elbow, stealing from Michelle her pillow shoulder, and looked at her. She blinked up at me, innocent. It was nigh impossible to differentiate between glimpses of her inner child and masterful manipulation.

  “You meant Penelope, didn’t you?” I asked her.

  “I did mean Penelope. I mean, I was there, Theon. I… saw it, too.”

  It wasn’t the kind of sight one could soon forget; the throes of erotic passion, even between total strangers, could be hypnotic. But when it was your own lover, that same expression could become gut-wrenching…

  “Maybe that’s why that oracle told you that she wasn’t the one for you,” Michelle went on softly. She was biting her plush lower lip again, her eyes disguised beneath a fringe of lashes. “I never would have done that to you.” Now her eyelashes flashed upward, and her eyes caught mine with a beseeching shimmer. She raised one hand in the air and snaked it along my shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. It felt wrong, and my skin crawled, urging me to reject her touch.

  But why? Why bother being fair, being noble? Was it not equivalent with being a joke to an Earth woman? My heart was flooded, and if there had been a fire on the hearth, it would have burnt this establishment to the ground.

  “Theon.” Michelle had leaned closer. “It’s not too late. You can still be with the woman you were meant for.”

  With the woman for whom you were meant, I opened my mouth to correct her, but Michelle slid her lips against my own, the gesture possessing an unexpected gentleness.

  For a moment, I was torn. Where she touched went numb, became a pit. I did not want to be touched. I wanted to mourn my lost love, Penelope.

  But, at the same time, the hell with Penelope.

  One of my hands carved powerfully through Michelle’s thick curls, and the other clawed along her hip, dragging her on top of me. Her response was immediate, her body moving over mine with both fury and passion. Usually, such aggression would be wholly unsettling, but in this scenario, I found it paired well with my emotions. Like her, I was determined to ravage something, but unlike her, I felt completely cold.

  Nell

  I had been manacled against the dungeon wall for hours now. What time was it? No windows. No clocks. But it felt like sometime between two and four in the morning—the portion of the clock reserved for true despair.

  I wanted to sleep, but I could not. The height of the manacles forced me to stay standing, or else slowly break my own shoulders. My arms went numb from the lack of blood flow. My wrists were rubbed raw by the drag of gravity alone. I hadn’t even been struggling. And my head spun with sickness. The human body wasn’t designed to endure such stress. I needed a drink, but no one had been down for hours, save an occasional glimpse of a guard in the changing of shifts. It was too late in the night for any of the other prisoners to be talking amongst themselves—I had been brought in while they slept. For many, the new girl would be a morning surprise.

  Every now and then, a groan slipped unbidden from my lips.

  “If you can convince the guards to move you into one of these cells,” a young man whispered to me, “we can get you some water. There are several leaking pipes overhead.”

  My puffy eyes peeled open. I was so tired… and I needed a drink… and I had to pee, too.

  “What?” I murmured.

  It was the same man as before. The man with the tattooed hand: the fireball. “Convince a guard to place you in a cell. We will be able to get you water then. It shouldn’t be too hard. They don’t like when you spit on them. That should get you a cell right quick.”

  “Thank you.” I swallowed. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Didn’t say,” he replied.

  The sound of a door clapping shut nearby brought
us both into tense silence. Our eyes fell to the left corner of the room, where guards would enter. Was it shift change again so soon?

  A shadow moved across the wall, and Lethe stepped into the torchlight.

  My heart gave a strange little flutter of gratitude. Lethe’s eyes met mine… and warmed, darkening.

  “Penelope,” he greeted, stepping closer. “I thought they would give you a cell.”

  “The cells are too crowded,” I grumbled, turning my eyes from him. I was so tired. “Did you—” My voice caught in my throat. “Did you capture Theon?” My heart solidified to stone at the thought. Theon hadn’t been brought here, into the prison. Which meant… if they had overtaken him in battle, he was probably…

  “We were able to wound, capture, and even annihilate some of his men,” Lethe answered, becoming cold. “But no. We did not capture Theon himself. He—and a beautiful young woman, reportedly—escaped together into the streets.” His eyelashes lowered, and a nasty little smile spread over his lips.

  I said nothing to this. I didn’t want him to know how the news both elated and disappointed me. Theon was safe. He had escaped. And apparently, now he was alone with Michelle.

  I wondered what they were doing. Had she already pulled her more obvious material? Getting drunk, getting flirty? Had she moved on to the more advanced stuff? The pouting? The lip-nibbling? Would they sleep side by side? In the same bed?

  “I talked to my father,” Lethe volunteered.

  At this, I perked. “And what did he say?” What did you say?

  “He told me again that this is a pivotal moment in my story.” Lethe’s eyes refused to meet mine. “We have just seized the castle again. It was the life’s work of my grandfather, and it has become my and my father’s life’s work. He always questions my strength.” His face soured as he went on. “We must show unwavering leadership, he said. He would prefer that I marry as soon as possible to solidify my position here. There are two things he commands that I do prior to assuming the throne: marry… and execute Theon.”

  My blood ran cold. Execute Theon.

  “Perhaps I could convince him to let me execute Erisard instead,” Lethe suggested.

  “Who is Erisard?”

  “The fire king. Theon’s father.”

  My jaw went slack. “Lethe…”

  But Lethe looked to me with flashing eyes, as if he knew that it was horrible. “I suppose you think that I’m bloodthirsty and power-starved, like the other ice people,” he muttered. “I suppose you think that I kill often, and easily.”

  I shook my head, mute.

  “The truth is that I’ve never killed a man in my life.” Lethe’s gaze was distant and unfathomable. It reminded me, briefly, of those starry gates: the portals to and from Theon’s world. “And that it saddens me to know my father’s prejudice will undoubtedly play a pivotal role in the selection of my mate.” His eyes shifted to mine. “And I’m sorry for that. Because ice women…”

  Lethe let his words hang, staring off as he ruminated on the subject.

  “Ice women are cold. They’re ruthless, and powerful, and they can be sexy. They can be very sexy. But…” He shook his head, still not looking at me. “There’s no softness. There’s no warmth. There’s no trust.” Now his eyes shifted to mine. “I didn’t put you down here because I was angry,” he blurted.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I put you down here to keep myself away from you.” His eyes… How were they so deep and dark now, but so bright when he was mad? Now that blue had become almost blue-black, like the enfolding waves of the sea at night… “If I will never be able to have you—then I must stay away from you.” Even as he said this, his attention poured over me. “For the sake of my kingdom.”

  He tore his lustful gaze from my body, and his back stiffened. His gaze hardened.

  “He once told me that I would be required to kill, and that I did not understand the severity of that… But I have already died a thousand times for my birthright. I’m much stronger than my father thinks,” he went on, though he seemed to be speaking more to himself now. “He has no idea what I am capable of. Then again…” His gaze slanted to me and his body turned, closing the space between us, pressing our torsos and hips against one another. “No one does,” he finished, his hands sliding up my arms and onto my chains. His lips descended to kiss me fully on the mouth.

  Even against my own wishes, my body responded to a shocking degree. Was it the trauma and despair which made me so emotionally vulnerable? Stability and security were like water to me, and without them, I was thirsty for even the wayward affection of a mad prince.

  His hands trailed up my arms as his tongue played over mine, and when his fingertips reached my manacles, they became slowly encrusted in frost. As we kissed, and his excitement became increasingly obvious, I even hoped that he might still relieve me of my chains.

  But as he pulled away, his blue eyes trained on me, I knew such was not the case. His expression was one of deep remorse. “This is why you must stay where I cannot see you,” he whispered into my ear, before grazing it with his teeth and receding from me, leaving me manacled by frozen chains.

  He had reached the stairs when he turned and added, “But I will ensure you receive your own cell, at the very least, my lady.”

  Theon

  When I awoke at daybreak, my body had stiffened into a state of extreme vulnerability, but I supposed I should have expected that. During our sleep, our temperature naturally dropped, and we became susceptible to the cold.

  Michelle was tangled around me, fast asleep. It was obvious that she was used to long and languid rests, while my body typically maintained a sunrise-to-sunset schedule.

  I cleared my throat. I would not be able to rise with her atop me. It was questionable whether I would be able to rise at all.

  “Michelle,” I addressed her firmly. “Michelle, wake up.”

  In response, Michelle shifted slowly, luxuriating in the motion, and wrapped her arms tighter around me. I grimaced.

  “Morning, Daddy,” she purred.

  “Don’t call me that, first of all.” Augh. “Second of all, I need you to help me get up. I seem to have stiffened in my sleep.”

  Michelle giggled. My grimace deepened.

  “Could we be adults about this, please?” I requested acidly. “We must check the weather outside. If the snow is not falling too heavily, and has not become too deep, we can make movements toward the castle again… even in the sunlight.”

  “Oh?” Michelle extracted herself from me, propping up onto an elbow. I was jealous of how supple her own muscles appeared to be, in spite of the cold. Although her body temperature was much lower, the cold also damaged her much less—or so it would seem. “Because the last time I checked, you were still the most wanted prince in this village.” Her eyes trailed over me. “I already know you’re the most wanted prince in this bed.”

  Dammit. We were clearly going to need to discuss that kiss at length before things could return to normal… not that any of this had been normal. Did she not consider the possibility of context playing a role? Circumstance? That perhaps last night’s kiss hadn’t been about her as much as it had been about me?

  Not considering herself the central axis in all human motivations was not one of the lady’s strong points.

  When one became invested in the heart of a dense girl, perhaps they deserved the repetitive conversations about “us.”

  “Look… Michelle…” I took a deep breath and forged ahead. The way she was stroking my chest made it quite clear that this was not avoidable. “About last night.”

  At the mere phrase, the woman recoiled.

  “I knew it!” she wailed, leaping off of the bed. At least that would give me the space to slowly work my muscles back into order. It required several minutes of gentle, then deeper, massage, followed by an intense set of stretches. “So many rebound red flags, but do I ever listen, nooo,” Michelle berated herself, scrambling out from be
neath the bearskin mantle we had shared. She was still wearing no shirt—it was after she had peeled it off that I’d recoiled, and informed her that the men of fire culture did not move with the speed so oft associated with the element.

  “It has naught to do with you,” I reassured her. At least, I thought I was reassuring her.

  “Yes, we have that one, too,” she snapped at me, scrambling into her shirt. “It’s called ‘it’s not me, it’s you’!”

  “Michelle, please,” I pleaded, wincing as I forced myself into the upright position. “Don’t take this so personally. This is a very difficult time—”

  “And you really need to find yourself?” she shrilled, whirling and storming from the room. The woman had no stealth in her nature whatsoever. It was as if she had forgotten entirely that we were in hostile territory.

  * * *

  It was after I sat up and performed my morning stretches that I advanced onto the sales floor again and found that the windows showed a still porcelain blanket laid over everything. The snow, mercifully, had abated.

  And the shop was empty.

  “Gods damn it!” I cried, scouring the crowded racks of clothing in the hopes that Michelle was there, engrossed in some threadbare shawl that she could call “adorable.” But she wasn’t there. I didn’t see her anywhere. Gods…

  I had infuriated the unreasonable woman and sent her storming off into unfriendly territory. Who knew what might become of her? She was, after all, so hot-headed and proud. It would be easy for someone like that to find trouble and dive into it.