Dragonbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “You’re lucky.” Torrin whistles and raises his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I know. I could have been killed.” If he and Celeste weren’t around, I probably would have been. A couple of times.

  “You met one of the most dangerous criminals I’ve ever heard of. He’s fooled a lot of people, going around in human form like that, and he’s wanted for a list of crimes three miles long all over the five kingdoms.”

  I remember Prince Lothar’s charming smile and his sexy accent. And then I feel sick for even thinking such a thing. “All these years, I was right. I can’t trust anyone.”

  “Except me,” Torrin whispers. “You can trust me.”

  “Now all I need is for you to follow me around, in case of dragon attacks. Whoever ends up marrying me will just have to accept that you’re my bodyguard and that you can’t leave my side day or night. That’ll go over well, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. None of us knew. If Lothar hadn’t pointed him out, we’d never have caught him.”

  I blink, taking that in. “What do you mean, if Lothar hadn’t pointed him out? You’re telling me the dangerous one wasn’t the one breathing fire at us?”

  “Hey, I’m not saying he’s harmless.”

  “Maybe a little dragon fire isn’t such a big deal to you, but to me, it’s kind of fatal.”

  “I’m just saying that Lothar’s your average dragon. Amelrik’s the one you’ve got to really watch out for. A lot of people have trusted him and ended up dead.”

  Great. I mean, not that it should surprise me that he’s dangerous. He did stab Lothar right in front of me. I shudder, thinking how close I came to both of them. How easily I could have trusted Lothar and agreed to marry him. Not like I didn’t have doubts—he did seem too good to be true—but it’s not like I had a lot of other options. And Amelrik . . . Technically, he saved me from him. He made Lothar reveal what he really was and told me to run. So is he really as dangerous as Torrin says?

  “You saved my life,” I tell Torrin, as if this is news. As if he doesn’t already know that.

  “It was nothing,” he says, trying to shrug it off.

  “I like to think that me still being alive isn’t nothing.”

  “You know what I mean. Like I said, you can trust me.”

  I nod, because I don’t trust my voice. Because if I speak, I might start crying in front of him, and I don’t want that. I don’t want him to think of me as the pathetic girl he had to save and then comfort when she burst into tears. I’m supposed to be a paladin. I might not be able to do magic or fight dragons, but I can still act like one.

  “Thanks,” I say, managing to get out that one word without letting any tears fall. I take a few more moments to get ahold of myself before adding, “At least one good thing might have come out of this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think that dragon scared off all my potential suitors. They’re probably all running home in fear. My father’s going to need the help of St. George himself to get me married off now. Which means I’m not leaving the barracks in two weeks. I’m not leaving them ever.”

  Torrin frowns. “Vee, that’s—”

  I hold up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever you’re going to say, just don’t. You weren’t the one who was going to have to marry one of those guys and leave behind everyone and everything you’ve ever known. You weren’t going to have to sleep with one of them and bear his children. And you weren’t the one who almost got burnt to a crisp tonight by your worst nightmare. So don’t you dare lecture me about staying inside forever, where it’s—Damn it, Torrin, it’s not even safe here! I can’t say that anymore, not after tonight. But it’s the safest place I know, and let’s face it, we both know I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave.”

  “Oh, come on,” he snaps. “If you wanted to leave, you could. You just won’t.”

  I glare at him, my mouth hanging open in shock. That’s easy for him to say. He doesn’t feel icy hands of dread clenching up his heart and his guts every time he gets too close to the gate. Every time he even thinks about the marketplace or about what it would be like to step foot outside the barracks. His throat doesn’t close up, his knees don’t wobble. He doesn’t feel the bile rising in his throat, and his vision doesn’t get blurry.

  It’s easy to be fearless when you’ve never felt real fear.

  He sees the way I’m glaring at him—like I hardly even know him—and starts to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean it. I—”

  “No, Torrin Hathaway, you did mean it. And maybe I can’t walk out of this place, but I can walk away from you.”

  I turn my back to him and storm off into the barracks, my fists clenched and my footsteps heavy with anger. He calls out another apology but doesn’t come after me, and I’m pissed both because he has the nerve to try to apologize—as if his words didn’t cut me, as if they can just be taken back and forgiven—and because he’s not trying harder to stop me and make this right.

  Saving my life doesn’t give him the right to insult me. And even though he’s at seventy-eight points for the night, he can consider himself disqualified.

  3

  MAYBE HE HAS A SON MY AGE

  Celeste bursts into my room in the morning like she owns the place. I pull my covers over my head, hoping she can take a hint. I haven’t been ignoring the sunlight streaming in through my window or the stench of that rotting dragon head hanging outside for nothing. Sleeping in isn’t always easy. Sometimes it takes real effort.

  “Virginia St. George!” she shouts, grabbing the edge of my covers and yanking them away. “Do you know what time it is?”

  Golden sunlight catches in Celeste’s blond hair, making her look shiny and brilliant, like some kind of angel. She scowls at my discarded dress from last night lying on the floor and picks it up, smoothing it out and setting it on the chair with a sigh.

  I grab my covers back while she’s preoccupied. “Go away,” I tell her, fighting and losing against a yawn. “Try me again tomorrow.” Not that she’ll get anywhere with me tomorrow, either. As far as I’m concerned, I never have to leave this room again, let alone this bed.

  “Father’s not going to be pleased.”

  “He’s never pleased.” Especially with me. “He’s the one who let strangers in last night. It’s not my fault a dragon attacked.”

  “Two dragons,” Celeste corrects me. She hesitates, then sits on the edge of my bed, resting a comforting hand on my back. “Are you okay, Vee? I should have been paying closer attention to everyone. I should have been watching.”

  No, I should live up to my family name and be a better paladin. Right now I’d settle for being one at all. “Torrin was there, and he didn’t know.” Not really. Having a bad feeling doesn’t count.

  Thinking about him makes me clamp my teeth together. He might have saved my life, but I haven’t forgiven him for what he said.

  “We only got one of them,” Celeste says. “Lothar got away. He’s still out there somewhere. But if he tries to come back . . . We’re all on the lookout, you know?”

  I sit up, nodding and biting my lip. “I still don’t get it. Why he’d risk coming here, and for what? To try and marry me?” The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

  Celeste looks away, and there’s something funny about her voice when she says, “I don’t know,” so that I don’t quite believe her.

  “What is it?” I ask, my voice coming out a whisper. “If you know something—”

  She shakes her head. “He saw an opportunity to attack a St. George. That’s all it was.”

  But that doesn’t add up to me. He didn’t know I don’t have the family power. He didn’t know I’m not just as dangerous as my sister. And he didn’t attack until Amelrik showed up and made him change forms.

  “At least we got the other one,” Celeste says. “He’s locked up in the dungeon with a dragon ring around his neck.”

  “
Torrin says he’s on a bunch of most-wanted lists. Is he really that dangerous?”

  She wrinkles her forehead, questioning my sanity with a look. “You’re asking me if a dragon is really that dangerous?”

  My face gets hot, and I turn away. I feel guilty and ashamed for even asking. He’s a dragon. Of course he’s evil. I know that better than anyone. “No,” I mutter, staring into my lap, “I just thought it was weird that he never changed forms. He could have gotten away.”

  “All the more reason to be suspicious. But don’t worry, we’ve got him under top security while we interrogate him.” She pauses a little on the word “interrogate,” and I know her and the other paladins will drag out any useful information they can get from him, using whatever means necessary, no matter how ruthless. Not that it isn’t what he deserves. He’s a wanted criminal, after all. A dragon.

  He might have told me to run, but he didn’t save me. Torrin did. And if anything, Amelrik put me in danger. He’s the one who stabbed Lothar and caused all the chaos. Though, if he hadn’t done that, I might never have known who—or what—Lothar really was.

  “And after that?” I ask.

  Celeste cracks her knuckles. “When he’s no longer useful, he’ll die by public execution. We haven’t had one of those in a long time. Anyway, Father is demanding your presence downstairs.”

  “He thinks it was my fault.” Of course he does. Just like he blames me for Mother’s death. And maybe that was my fault, in a way, but did it have to mean he stopped caring about me? “Why can’t he just leave me alone? No one’s going to want to marry me now, not even some idiot from out of town, so—What, Celeste? What’s that look?”

  She pales a little, not meeting my eyes. “He found someone.”

  I hear a rushing sound in my ears, and my blood runs cold. “He what?” After the attack last night, I thought all the suitors would be long gone by now. Not only am I useless in a fight, not only do I not have the family power, but I apparently attract dragons. My hands clasp at my bedcovers, gripping them so tightly that even the soft fabric feels rough against my skin. “Who?” I ask, and I’m both dreading and dying to know the answer.

  But Celeste just shakes her head. “Come on—get dressed. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Celeste marches me through the Hall of Heroes like I’m her prisoner. Which I kind of am, because if it was up to me, I’d be anywhere but here right now. Even though I’m curious to see who my father could have possibly found to marry me. Maybe one of the old men from last night fell asleep during the dragon attack and doesn’t know what went down. Maybe he woke up this morning, the only suitor left, and thought he’d lucked out.

  I glance at the suits of armor that line the walls as we walk by. The silent tributes to the paladin heroes of the past. Celeste’s armor will be in this hall someday, but I’ve never even been fitted. I start to feel a pang of guilt and envy, and then we pass by a suit with a giant tear across the chest, right over the heart. I don’t look long enough to see the details, but I imagine there are bloodstains. I picture that paladin’s gruesome death at the claws of a dragon. The other suits might be more intact, but that doesn’t mean their owners escaped their fate. There’s a drawback to being one of the Families’ best and brightest.

  “You want to watch it with that iron grip there?” I ask Celeste. She’s got her hand clamped around my upper arm like a vise. “I’m not one of your prisoners.”

  She sighs and loosens up a little. “It’s not that I think you’re going to run.”

  Which is kind of foolish of her, because I’d run the second I got the chance. That is, if I had anywhere to go other than hiding under my covers.

  “I was just thinking,” she goes on. “I told Father he should reconsider, but . . .” She glances over at me, then shakes her head. “Listen, Vee, you’re not seventeen yet. I don’t care what anybody says—you’re a St. George. You have the family blood, same as me.”

  “Just not the family power.”

  She pulls me aside—right next to a charred suit of armor that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence about the family business—and grabs my shoulders. “I don’t believe that. You shouldn’t, either.”

  I sigh and take a step back, slipping out of her grip. “I’ve tried. Whatever makes you and Father so amazing just isn’t in my repertoire.” I shrug. “I don’t have the magic.”

  Celeste glares at me. “You don’t want it, you mean.”

  She’s starting to sound like Torrin. “Yeah? And so what if I don’t? Why should I?” I gesture to the charred suit of armor looming next to us. “So I can end up in here? So a new generation of paladins can stare at what might as well be my mangled corpse and be inspired to go get themselves killed, too?”

  “They were killed protecting the kingdom, our home. You want to hide in these barracks all the time and rely on other people to keep you safe? Fine. But don’t forget that people like them”—she waves at all the suits of armor lining the hall—“and people like me are the only reason you have that luxury. It’s a dangerous world out there, and some of us have to live with that.”

  “If I wanted a lecture, I would have asked Father.”

  “You have to want the magic. If you wanted it badly enough, you’d find it.”

  “Right. It’s my fault I’m a dud because I just don’t want it enough. Being defenseless against my worst fear is my choice. I want everyone to make fun of me and for Father to have to raffle me off to the highest bidder because I’m not good for anything else.”

  “You’ve still got two weeks until your birthday. Father’s made up his mind, but if you had the family gift, if you had real magic, he couldn’t force this on you.”

  “No, then I’d just have to go out dragon hunting and risk my life on a daily basis. Until I came back gutted or maimed or burnt to a crisp. And don’t tell me that wouldn’t happen, because you might be able to survive out there, but even with magic, I’m not cut out for hunting dragons. So, let’s face it, Celeste, this marriage is kind of my only option.”

  Celeste tilts her head and gives me a look, but she doesn’t say anything and instead marches me onward toward my fate.

  We turn the corner and move past a few more suits of armor—these ones are intact and have been polished to such a bright sheen that it almost hurts my eyes—and then through the heavy wooden doors and into the Ceremonial Room at the end of the hall.

  The room is structured kind of like a chapel. There are ornately carved wooden benches lining both sides, with an aisle running between them that leads to a stone dais. This is where the Families gather to hold elaborate ceremonies to honor their heroes. It’s where the last rites are given over the bodies of those who don’t come back alive. It’s also where we hold weddings.

  A fact that isn’t lost on me as I trudge down the aisle with Celeste, toward our waiting father and my new husband-to-be. I gulp down a mouthful of air, suddenly feeling like I can’t breathe. It’s worse than I thought. He’s worse than I thought, because standing there, next to my father, is a thin, bony old man. He’s completely bald, with a wispy white beard that hangs off his chin in tufts. He’s dressed in a tailored suit and stands stick straight, his mouth a grim line as he watches me approach. Appraising me with cold, hard eyes.

  I’ve seen him before—one of Father’s friends—and my mind races, trying to remember his name, but the more I scramble to remember, the more I draw a blank.

  “Virginia,” my father says, “you remember Lord Varrens?”

  “Of course,” I lie. For a moment, I think maybe this isn’t really happening. Maybe he has a son my age—or at least closer to my age—and that’s why he’s here. He can’t possibly intend to marry me himself, can he? “Is your son here?”

  Celeste elbows me hard in the ribs, and Father purses his lips in a scowl.

  “I have never been blessed with any sons,” Lord Varrens says in his reedy old-man voice. “Many daughters, but no sons.”

  “Silly me,” I mutter
. “Your grandson, then?”

  “Vee!” Celeste hisses, her eyes going wide.

  Father’s eyes narrow until they’re just two little dark beads staring down at me. Lord Varrens must be hard of hearing—no wonder, at his age—because he doesn’t seem to notice I said anything.

  Father clears his throat. “Lord Varrens has graciously offered to take your hand in marriage. This way you won’t have to go far from home. It’s the perfect match.”

  Lord Varrens nods, looking me over. “Perhaps she can give me the son I’ve always hoped for.”

  “Yes,” Father says. “A good strong paladin son.”

  This guy? On top of me? I don’t think so. “Was there seriously no one else?”

  “What?” Father says, sounding incredulous. Like he can’t believe I would be so bold.

  “I said, was there no one else? No other suitors? You didn’t have any other friends who were closer to my age that you could pawn me off on? Any that were still breathing?”

  “Virginia!” Father’s face turns bright red.

  This time I know Lord Varrens heard because his mouth drops open and he looks from me to my father in disbelief.

  Father takes a step toward me, his voice low as he speaks through gritted teeth. “After that debacle last night, you’re lucky to have anyone willing to even consider asking for you.”

  “Asking for me. Right. Like I don’t know you’re behind this. How much did you have to promise him? How much gold and armor? Or was my blood enough?”

  “How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “And how dare you sell me to someone like him! I know you hate me—ever since Mother’s death—but this? Did you at least tell him I’m a dud? That I don’t have the family magic?”

  “Virginia!” Father raises his hand, ready to slap me.