Dragonbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  Which is a huge relief. I’m not disappointed at all. Nooope.

  Amelrik’s sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms folded on top of them. He glances over at me.

  And catches me maybe kind of staring at him. I look away, hoping he didn’t notice.

  “So,” he says. “About what you said earlier. About me, uh, seducing people. Not that it’s any of your business, because it’s not, but I want you to know I didn’t do that.”

  A branch in the fire crackles, sending a stray spark into the air. “You tricked people, though, didn’t you? You made them think you were someone you weren’t, to earn their trust, all so you could hurt them.” Just like the dragon who killed my mother. I feel a rush of shame. Was I really thinking about waking up in his arms? That I’d be disappointed if it didn’t happen again? He’s no better than my mother’s killer.

  “Okay, yeah. All right. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But not . . . never like that.”

  “Oh, so all the girls you slept with knew what you were?”

  “That’s not—”

  “Because there’s no way you would have told them the truth.” He couldn’t have. “And maybe you think it doesn’t count as seduction, but you still got them to trust you more than they should have. So you can say you didn’t do it, but—”

  “I didn’t, okay? There weren’t any.”

  “Weren’t any what?”

  “There weren’t . . . I mean, I didn’t . . .” He clears his throat. “I’ve never, um, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Slept with anyone.”

  “You know that ‘sleeping with someone’ is a euphemism for sex, right?” Because there’s no way that’s what he meant.

  “Yeah, I do. And I haven’t.”

  “Oh.” That’s definitely not something I thought we’d have in common. “You’ve really never done it with anyone? Like, ever?”

  “I think I’d remember.”

  “Right, but . . . Not even with other dragons?”

  He clenches his jaw, a bitter expression crossing his face. “I didn’t tell you so you could ask stupid questions.”

  “But you? A virgin? That’s just—Wait, is this some kind of dragon custom I don’t know about?”

  “No.”

  “Are you betrothed?”

  “No.”

  “Are you—”

  “This isn’t a guessing game for your amusement.”

  “I’m just trying to figure it out.”

  “Figure it out? There’s nothing to figure out. I shouldn’t have even told you. I just didn’t want you to think that about me.”

  “But there has to be a reason. Did you take a vow of celibacy?”

  “No. And what part of ‘this isn’t a game’ didn’t you understand?”

  “Is there . . . Is there something wrong with—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me!” He shouts the words, his voice breaking a little. He’s obviously mad, but there’s something else there, too. Sadness, and pain. Like I didn’t just piss him off—I actually hurt him.

  A pang of guilt spreads through my chest.

  He presses his forehead to his arms. And right now, it’s hard to see him as a spy who got people killed. I know what he is and what he’s done, and yet, how can the person who did those things be the same one who’s sitting next to me now? Looking so upset, so human?

  The silence between us is really awkward. Maybe I should just call it quits and go to bed, before I accidentally say something even stupider and make this worse, but I don’t want to leave things like this. “So, what kinds of books do you like to read?”

  He lifts his head, giving me a really incredulous look.

  I keep going. “I just read this one series, about this princess who solves really gruesome murder mysteries.”

  “I read that one, too.”

  “You did?” I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect to have read any of the same books as him. “Which one’s your favorite?”

  He answers right away, not having to think about it. “Book three.”

  I laugh. In book three, a prince and his family come to the castle. He’s a possible suitor, and the king and queen really want Princess Genevieve to make a good impression. But then a string of murders takes place, and she has to solve them while keeping everyone from finding out what’s going on. It’s pretty hilarious.

  I think that one might be my favorite, too, but I don’t want to sound like I’m copying him. “What about book five? When she meets Orlando?” Orlando’s a bandit who’s also been known to solve a mystery or two.

  “It’s no book three, but it has its moments.”

  “She’s marrying him in book seven.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

  “She is. Book six ends with him proposing.” Actually, it ends with both him and a prince—who she’s always kind of had a thing for—proposing.

  “What about Liam?”

  That’s the prince. “What about him? Too little too late, that’s what I say. He might be a more suitable match, but everyone knows Genevieve’s heart is with Orlando. Besides, Liam doesn’t solve mysteries. He’d just get in the way.”

  “She’s a princess. She can’t marry an outlaw.”

  “She can, too. They could solve mysteries on the road together.”

  “Do you want the series to end? The whole point is that she’s a princess, and she has to deal with court drama and being part of high society and all that, while also solving murders. I don’t see how it can keep going if she leaves everything for him. But book seven comes out pretty soon, so I guess we’ll see.”

  “You mean you’ll see when she marries Orlando and they live happily ever after. And if that is the end of the series—I’m not saying I want it to be, but if it is—there are worse ways it could happen, you know?”

  “I don’t really care who she marries, as long as there are more books.”

  “Not me. Orlando, or else.”

  He smirks at that.

  I yawn, stretching my arms over my head. I’m tired, and it’s probably time to sleep, but that means moving to the other side of the fire, where I’ll be alone. And it’s not that I can’t be alone, but I kind of don’t want to be. If I just lay down right here, would he move to the other side, or would he stay? And do I even want him to?

  Part of me does. Just like how part of me felt really safe and good waking up in his arms this morning. But that part of me is wrong, because I know what he is. A dragon, a liar, an infiltrator. How can I take comfort in being beside him, knowing any of that?

  Amelrik’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. “I don’t trust anyone.” He glances over at me, then away again. “I can’t.”

  “What?”

  “You wanted to know what the reason was. Why I haven’t . . .” He swallows. “I’ve never been close enough with anyone to trust them that much. To let anything happen.”

  “Oh.”

  “Being that intimate with someone . . . It’s a big deal. People act like it’s not, but it is. I mean, it is for me.” His eyes search mine, and he looks really nervous. “I can’t imagine letting anybody get that close.”

  I want to ask him about it. Like, really bad. Because that can’t just be it. If he doesn’t trust people, there has to be a reason, right? And does he mean he can’t imagine it happening now, or, like, ever? But it seems like it was hard enough for him to say as much as he did, and I don’t want to push it and upset him again. No matter how curious I am.

  So I just say, “Okay,” and try really hard to leave it at that.

  He watches me for a minute, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it doesn’t, he exhales, looking really relieved.

  17

  TWO USES

  “How much farther is it? I mean, how much longer before we get to where they’ve got Celeste?” It’s the next day, and me and Amelrik are walking through the woods.

  “At the pace we’ve been going? Two more d
ays.”

  Two days. It’s not that long, but to Celeste, it might be an eternity. “And then?”

  “And then you take this iron ring off my neck.”

  “Uh, no. Not until after we rescue her. That was the deal.” And he doesn’t have much choice, since I can’t actually take it off.

  “You expect me to walk into Elder clan like this? As your prisoner? How am I supposed to help you when I might as well be wearing a big sign that says ‘captive’?”

  I hadn’t thought about it like that. Actually, I hadn’t really thought about how we’d rescue Celeste—I figured we’d know once we got there. “You said you lived with them for a long time. But you don’t live with them now. And obviously you and Lothar don’t get along.”

  “That’s nothing new.”

  “What I’m getting at is are you sure you can just walk in there, even with the ring off? Because if you’re not a political hostage anymore, then something must have happ—”

  I don’t finish that sentence because the ground suddenly falls out from under me. I reach out, grabbing on to Amelrik for support, and end up dragging him with me.

  We land really hard at the bottom of a huge pit.

  My arm hurts bad enough that I’m afraid to look. When I do, I see a long gash that runs almost the length of my forearm. There’s some dirt in it, making it sting. Besides that, I think I might end up with some bruises—one of my legs feels banged up, and so does one shoulder.

  Amelrik brushes the dirt off of himself. “Are you okay?”

  Not really, but I don’t want to admit it. “I’m fine.”

  He ignores what I said and inspects the gash on my arm. “You should wash that out, once we get out of here.”

  I look up at the dirt walls surrounding us. They’re way too tall for us to just climb out. “And how are we supposed to do that?”

  Amelrik studies the walls, considering them for a moment. “It’s not that far.”

  “Maybe not for you.”

  “I just mean it’s doable. I’ll boost you up, and then you help me. We’ll—”

  There are men’s voices in the distance. Coming toward us. I can’t make out most of what they’re saying, but I catch the word “trap.”

  Amelrik’s eyes get wide. He sniffs the air. “Hunters.”

  “Oh, good. Maybe they can get us out.”

  He grabs my arms, which makes the gash hurt worse.

  “Ow! Hey!”

  “You have to take this ring off of me!” His breathing is unsteady, and he looks really freaked out.

  “What?”

  “The dragon ring! They can’t find me with it on. If they do, they’ll know.”

  “This is a trap for game. We’re not animals. They have to let us go. Don’t they?”

  He’s shaking his head. His eyes dart up to the top of the hole, then back to me, frantic. “We don’t have time to get out of here, and if they see me like this, I’m dead.”

  “I . . .”

  The voices are getting closer.

  He looks into my eyes, pleading with me. “You promised you wouldn’t let me die like this!”

  “I don’t . . .” I don’t have the power to take it off. I didn’t think I’d need to before we found Celeste. He’s waiting for me to say something, to do something. Maybe I should tell him the truth, but how can I? And even if I could take off the dragon ring, could I really trust him that much?

  Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe the hunters won’t care what he is.

  But then there are footsteps above us, and it’s too late. I see the hope in Amelrik’s eyes shatter. I’ve let him down, and I didn’t even tell him why.

  Three bearded faces peer over the top of the hole. “Well, well, well,” one of them says. “What do we have here?”

  Another one squints down at us. “Looks like a dragon. All collared up and ready for us. I never thought we’d catch one of those—certainly not with such a simple trap. Must be our lucky day.”

  “Thanks for the help,” I tell the hunters, once they’ve hauled us out of the pit, “but we really have to be going.”

  They’ve got their weapons pointed at us, and none of them moves to let us leave.

  Not that I really thought that they would.

  All three of them look us over, like they’re deciding what we’re worth.

  “What clan are you from, dragon?” the red-headed one asks. His name is Bern, and he seems to be their leader.

  Amelrik stays silent and doesn’t answer.

  One of the other hunters lunges forward. His fist collides with Amelrik’s jaw, making a loud crack. “He asked you a question!”

  Amelrik spits blood in his face.

  The hunter looks like he’s going to hit him again, but Bern stops him. “No matter, Gavin, no matter. It’ll be a surprise when we get to the village.”

  I feel like everyone knows what they’re talking about except me. “What will be a surprise?”

  “Why, the color of his head. I don’t suppose you know the answer, paladin? I’m hoping for red. Or maybe blue. Blue would look best in the lodge. But no, don’t tell us. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  I don’t know why they’re assuming I’m a paladin—though who else would be traveling through the woods with a collared dragon?—but I decide to go with it. “That’s right—I am a paladin.” My voice shakes a little, though, which isn’t exactly selling it. “And that’s my dragon.”

  “Is that so?” Bern laughs, and the other two join in.

  “That’s right. He belongs to me.”

  “You know, on second thought, you don’t look much like a paladin. No sword, no armor.”

  “Well, I am. I’m a St. George, and I put that dragon ring around his neck. That means he’s mine.”

  “That might be so, Miss St. George, but you can only bind dragons, and we ain’t no dragons. The way I see it, we’ve got the steel, and you’ve got nothing.”

  Okay, so he might be right about that. I glance over at Amelrik, who’s giving me this exasperated look, like I’m just making things worse. “I got separated from my group. My hunting party. Me and my dragon did, I mean. But they’re really close, and they’ll be here any second.”

  “Uh-huh.” All three of them share a look, and they laugh again.

  “It’s true. And anyway, like I said, he’s mine. You can’t have him.”

  “My sword says that I can. His head’s going on the trophy wall. And Sam here”—he points to the third hunter, the blond one—“is going to eat his heart. Supposed to be good for virility,” he adds.

  Sam nods. “My wife wants another baby.”

  I can’t believe this. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Bern makes a hmph noise. “Can’t expect you to understand. And what were you going to do with him? Kill him and leave him for the crows?” He clucks his tongue. “You paladins are so wasteful.”

  I make a face. I can feel Amelrik’s gaze on me, but I can’t look at him. He thinks I let this happen. That I could have prevented it.

  “Now, a paladin, on the other hand,” Bern goes on, “is a different story. There’s only one use for those. Well, two, since you’re a woman.”

  My stomach twists. I really, really wish I’d listened to Amelrik. Oh, and that I had magic. Obviously. “What?”

  “After we get you both back to the village, you’ll undo that ring for us. If you really are a St. George, there’s another hunting party we might make a trade with. They’ve been talking about going on a dragon hunt. Could be they’ll want a paladin to take along.”

  I swallow, not liking the sound of any of that.

  “And of course, if it turns out you’re lying about being a paladin, we won’t be able to sell you. Well, not to them, anyway. But like I said, you got two uses, being a woman and all.”

  18

  I’M VIRGINIA FREAKING ST. GEORGE

  The hunters are marching us back to their village. We’re following a dirt road, and they’ve got our ha
nds tied behind our backs, with ropes attached, like leashes. Every time they pull on them, it feels like my arms are going to come out of the sockets. There’s no way out of this, and they said their village isn’t far. We should be there sometime this afternoon.

  Amelrik’s walking beside me. He leans in close and whispers, “Take the ring off.”

  The hunters are absorbed in some story Bern is telling about catching a wild boar. I don’t think they’re paying attention, but I keep my voice low anyway. “I know what I promised, but—”

  “I can save us—just not with this ring around my neck.”

  “I can’t.”

  He’s quiet for a second. “You’d rather I died. After everything that’s . . . You’d rather you were sold to hunters—who will make two uses out of you, do not doubt that—than give me my freedom.”

  “If you had your freedom, you’d just leave.” A dragon could fight off these hunters, but he could also fly away and abandon me here.

  “Is that what you think of me?”

  Maybe. I don’t know. But . . . I look over at him and shake my head. Maybe he wouldn’t help me find Celeste if that ring wasn’t around his neck, if he didn’t need me to take it off, but I don’t believe he’d leave me here with these men. “It doesn’t matter what I think, because I . . . I can’t.”

  “You won’t, you mean.” His voice sounds bitter, betrayed, and I hate all the things he must be thinking about me.

  “No, I mean I can’t. I lied to you. I needed your help, and I thought Celeste could do it, once we rescued her. I didn’t think something like this would happen.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t? You’re a St. George.”

  “Yeah, but why do you think they were marrying me off? You said yourself that I’m no paladin. Well, I’m not. I don’t even have magic.”

  “But . . . No. I smelled it on you before. I know I did.”

  “I was trying to learn so Father couldn’t force me to get married. Celeste was helping me. She stayed up all night, and that’s why she got captured. All this is my fault, and her helping me turned out to be for nothing. I managed to make a spark, but only once, and that was it.” My whole life, just one spark.