Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 70

“There’s a parlor adjoining this meeting room,” says Rahzien. “I’ll call for the healer, and she’ll come to you there. Meanwhile if you need anything—tea, water, more wine—let one of the servants know, and they’ll fetch it.”

He ushers Meridian and me into a shadowed parlor clad in furnishings of dark green and deep purple, then closes the door. The only light comes from a gap between the velvety cloths draping the windows.

Oddly enough I feel rather at home in the space. It’s peacefully gloomy, and the rich colors remind me of a shady forest or a quiet cave. Still, the way Rahzien shut us in here is odd.

“Why do I feel as if we’ve been imprisoned?” I mutter.

“Because we have.” Meridian throws himself onto a long piece of furniture—a sofa, I think, or perhaps a couch. Too many terms, too many new objects, all swimming around in my head.

“I wonder if the healer will be able to tell what you are,” Meridian muses, his frown deepening. “I suppose we’ll know soon enough. Can’t be helped now. If we refuse the healer’s attention it will look much too suspicious. We’ve bared our asses, and must endure the paddle.”

“What makes me fucking furious is that I’ve lost the chance to question that lord, the one with the viper’s eye,” I mumble.

“Viper’s eye?” Meridian quirks a brow, so I tell him, in low tones, what Serylla said to me in the alcove.

“So that’s where you went.” He smirks. “Never fear, Prince. When we’re done here, I can put some feelers out among the guards and servants, find out who he is and how we can discover more about him. Leave it to me.”

I choose a chair and sit down, but it’s far softer than I expected, and I sink into it deeply and suddenly.

Meridian smirks at me. “Comfortable?”

I speak low, even though we’re alone. “This chair is like a voratrice throat. Sucks you right in.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Perhaps you’ll visit Ouroskelle sometime and find out.” I sigh, yielding to the plush cushioned depths of the chair. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?”

Meridian pries the lids of his right eye open and adjusts the glass orb in the socket. He blinks a few times, then focuses on me.

“Yes, you fucked up,” he says in an undertone. “But I don’t think Rahzien suspects the truth. How could he? I would have thought it impossible had I not seen it with my own eyes. If anything, he’ll suspect you, Prince Gildas, of hiding your true intentions—perhaps being a spy your father sent, with no true intentions of creating an alliance.”

“And how do you think he’d react to that?”

Meridian shrugs. “Who knows the mind of a king?”

“You seem to understand the behavior of all kinds of humans.”

“Why, thank you. It’s part of being an excellent thief, pickpocket, and con artist. Understanding your mark. Knowing how they’ll react to distractions or stimuli. Anticipating wants and needs. All part of the game.”

“And Hinarax?” I ask the question in spite of myself, out of a protective impulse. “Is he part of your game?”

The rogue’s cocky smile fades. “That’s between him and me.”

“I’m his prince,” I reply. “His well-being is my responsibility.”

Meridian puckers his lips and looks away. I expect him to argue the point or ignore me, but he says, “Hinarax and I have enjoyed our trysts, our dances, and our conversations. I hope to see him again. If I don’t, life goes on.” Something hard and bitter edges his light tone. “I’ve parted ways with plenty of people I cared for. Few relationships last, and the ones that do, change. They morph into something unrecognizable. When that happens, it’s best to move on.”

“What about accepting the change?” I ask. “Adapting and making the best of the new reality?”

“With life events, maybe. But I’m talking about people. When people change, you’d best cut the cords and start over elsewhere. Otherwise you’re asking for pain. Me, I never stay in one place or with one group very long. The people I’m with now, I haven’t known for more than a few months—some for mere weeks or days. I trust them to a point—not beyond it. And I’m always ready to cut ties and strike out alone at a moment’s notice. Travel light, stay flexible. Keep your wits about you. That’s how to survive as a human. If people don’t know where your heart is, they can’t stab it. No roots, no ruin.”

I don’t reply at once, and when I do, I speak in slow, measured tones, heavy with the weight of my words. “On Ouroskelle, we believe in bones. The bones of our ancestors built our island, and the bones of our loved ones continue to build it to this day. The exchange of bone-tribute after a dragon’s death, and the laying of their bones upon the fields—those are meaningful rituals for us. They connect our lives to all that is past, and make us a part of all that will come. We are creatures of the air, yes… but land, home, family, and stability are important to us.”

Meridian watches me in the half-light, the thin fingers of his right hand playing over the head of his staff.

“Every dragon I know has changed.” I look down at my hands, my human fingers. Short nails, not claws. “We’ve been altered externally, of course, but who we are is changing as well. I believe that if my clan survived the war, the loss of our females, and the great transformation, we can survive anything, even Rahzien’s poison. The evolution of our minds and hearts will not tear us apart. We will not flee from each other. We are family, a bond that is bone-deep, unchanging, even after our spirits ascend.”

The rebel leader looks away, his scarred mouth twitching, and not with humor this time. “Fuck, that’s beautiful,” he mutters hoarsely. “But for someone like me, that sort of family isn’t in the cards, mate.”