Dragonbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “Please. Let’s just go back.”

  “You had no problem spoiling the book, but you won’t tell me why you’re so freaked out?”

  He keeps glancing toward the far end of the tunnel, like he’s afraid of whatever’s down there. “I didn’t mean to spoil anything. I know you’re mad at me, but it’s not worth this.”

  “Not worth what?”

  “Did you hear something?”

  “No. Did you?”

  “We have to go. If that means I have to pick you up and carry you out of here—”

  “Okay, okay! We’ll go.” If he’s that serious about it.

  He grabs my hand, practically dragging me.

  But something else grabs me from the other side, tearing me away from him, and I scream.

  “Virginia!”

  I hit the wall of the tunnel with enough force to knock the air from my lungs.

  A dragon looms over me, keeping itself between us so Amelrik can’t get to me. “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” it tells him. “They told me you were dead, but I knew if I didn’t feel the life drain out of you myself that you’d be back. And so here you are, come to get your revenge.”

  Amelrik’s voice doesn’t sound like him. It’s too small and too terrified to be him. “Mother, no.”

  Mother?

  The dragon changes into human form. She’s a middle-aged woman with wild brown hair and vivid green eyes. Her eyes are so like his that I wonder if I would have guessed who she was, even thinking she was dead.

  Amelrik starts to move toward me.

  His mother changes back into a dragon and lashes out at him with her claws, just barely missing him. “Don’t lie to me! There’s no other reason you would have come back here, and to bring a St. George? Did you think I wouldn’t smell what she was?!”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Of course you’d have to go to them for help. You disgusting, worthless excuse for a dragon! I should have done it then. The moment you slid out of me, I knew I couldn’t allow something so wrong to live. You were small and weak—tiny, compared to a real hatchling. Even with the ring around my neck, I had the strength to destroy such a pathetic thing. No one would have known.”

  He cringes at her words. “Mother, I didn’t come here to hurt you. I swear!”

  “Liar!” She changes into a human again, then back into a dragon. It happens quickly, and I can’t tell if she’s just insane or if she can’t maintain her form. “What did he promise you?” she asks me. “What did that creature who calls himself my son promise to give you in exchange for killing me?!”

  She doesn’t wait for an answer, just lunges at me, all claws and teeth. Paralyzing fear flows through my veins. I’m already against the wall, and there’s nowhere to go. I should try to cast the binding spell, I know I should, but it all happens so fast.

  Then Amelrik’s in front of me, his mother’s claws tearing into him. The force of the blow pushes him backward, so that he slams into me. Which hurts, but not nearly as much as getting mauled by a dragon.

  “Run!” he shouts, putting a hand to his side, which is covered in blood.

  I grab his arm, in case he has any ideas about not getting out of here.

  His mother is about a million times stronger than me, though. She knocks him to the ground, pinning him with one long, deadly claw poised above his heart. “Transform,” she says. “Show me how ugly you truly are, and this time I won’t just break your wings, I’ll rip them off!”

  “Get away from him!” I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I can’t let her kill him. Or rip his wings off.

  “I’ll tear every last scale from your body, one by one!”

  It’s like she didn’t even hear me. And I know what he said about me being better than Celeste, but I kind of wish I was her right now.

  I think about the binding spell, and about how much I want his mother to stop. No, not want, need. Because he can’t die. He can’t. And not like this.

  The smell of sulfur fills the air. Magic tingles in my hands. The flash of red seems extra bright in the dark.

  His mother screams bloody murder. I don’t think the spell even worked, because she stays in dragon form, but she jumps away from him, hissing and cursing at me.

  “Come on!” I grab Amelrik’s hand, helping him up, and then we run like hell.

  28

  LOOK AWAY, VIRGINIA

  The king is furious.

  We’re on our knees in front of him and his court—and maybe some extra onlookers, because it seems like there are a lot more dragons here this time—our heads bowed. Amelrik’s skin is pale and his breathing is shallow. He’s obviously in a lot of pain, and he has his hand pressed to the injury on his side, which is still bleeding.

  His father doesn’t seem to care about that, though. He stays in dragon form and yells at us, which is pretty terrifying, to say the least. “How dare you disturb her! What did I tell you when you came back here?!”

  “That I was—”

  “That you were not to have contact with her! She was not to see or hear or smell you. Six years you’ve been gone, and she’s hardly had an episode. There are days where she’s almost her old self, and now you’ve been back two weeks and you not only set her off, but you let your St. George torment her as well!”

  I make the mistake of glancing up, right as the king’s eyes focus on me. I still can’t read dragons very well, but anyone could see how angry he is.

  “I’m sorry, Father.” Blood from Amelrik’s wound trickles across the floor, staining the knees of my pant legs. He does not look good, and I’m worried he might pass out before all this is over.

  “Do not think your concubine is so useful to us that you can allow her to get out of hand! Keep better control over her, or I’ll gut her myself.”

  There are some murmurings in the crowd at that.

  “It was my fault,” Amelrik says. “Virginia didn’t know.”

  I hate that he’s taking the blame for me. And maybe I didn’t know what was down that tunnel, but he tried to warn me, and I should have listened to him.

  “Your behavior is unacceptable, Amelrik. Unacceptable. This is why I sent you away in the first place! Do you think I enjoy seeing my only son bleeding out on the floor of the Royal Chamber?! Do you think I enjoyed picking up your broken, misshapen body years ago, not knowing if you would live or die? If I’d realized you hadn’t learned your lesson from that, I wouldn’t have allowed you to return! You deserve every bit of the pain you’re feeling right now, and you are not to go anywhere near your mother ever again. You or your St. George. And if you do, you’d better let her kill you, because if she doesn’t, I’ll do it for her!”

  Amelrik flinches. “Yes, Father.”

  “Rise before the court.”

  He staggers to his feet. I try to help him, but he waves me off.

  At least this is over.

  “And let it not be said that the king of Hawthorne clan has no compassion for his idiot son. Heal yourself, Amelrik. Transform for all to see.”

  There are some gasps from the audience, both excited and horrified, followed by whispers.

  Amelrik just stands there, bleeding. His shoulders are hunched, and he stares at the ground, his expression pained.

  The king stays silent for a while, drawing out the humiliation, until finally he says, “If you’re too ashamed to show your disfigurement, then at least stop bleeding on my floor. You are dismissed.”

  “Look away, Virginia.”

  We’re back in Amelrik’s room. He’s taken off his shirt, and he’s so pale, and I could swear his lips are turning blue. There are three gashes in his side, though one of them is deeper than the others. All three are still bleeding, and I’m surprised he made it back here without collapsing.

  “I’ve seen you transform before.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to.” He stares at the ground, his eyes half closed. He glances up at me, then away again. “I don’t want anyone to see
me. I can’t . . . Please.”

  He sounds so sad, and I don’t want to cause him any more pain. I don’t want to be yet another onlooker who stares at him or makes him feel like there’s something horribly wrong with him. But if I look away like he wants, it would be like saying there really is something that wrong that he should be ashamed to be seen, even by the people who care about him.

  I hate myself for ever making him feel like that.

  “I’m not turning away. You’re really hurt, and I . . . I won’t do that.”

  He opens his mouth, presumably to argue some more, but then he just sighs.

  There’s the sound of flesh rearranging itself—a sound I never thought I’d be so relieved to hear. Amelrik’s wounds knit closed, though his skin is still stained with blood. Scales appear down his sides, and his wings spring out from his back. His eyes turn yellow. Almost as soon as the transformation is finished, he wobbles and falls to his knees. He spreads his wings out and puts one clawed hand on the ground to steady himself. He puts the other hand to his head.

  “Are you okay?” I thought he’d be better now, but he still looks so pale.

  “It’s just . . . it takes a lot of energy. To transform. And I . . .” He winces, and for a moment, he looks like he might throw up. “I lost a lot of blood. It takes time to heal from that, and I have to stay like this for a while. I’m sorry you have to see me this way.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  He pushes himself to his feet and folds in his wings. He keeps his gaze averted, like he’s afraid to look at me, or like he’s afraid to see me looking at him. “I’m sorry about all of it. I should have just told you what was down that tunnel. You almost got hurt, because of me, and my father threatened you. I let you believe my mother was dead, because it was easier than the truth, and it almost got you killed. I’m . . . I’m so sorry, Virginia.”

  “Are you seriously apologizing to me right now?”

  His eyes flick down to the ground. “You shouldn’t have had to go through all that, and I know I can never make up for it, but—”

  “No, I mean I’m the one who needs to apologize. I should have listened to you when you said not to go down there. You tried to stop me, but I did it anyway. You almost died protecting me.” And I’m not convinced we’re out of the woods on that one yet. “It was my fault we were in that situation. I’m the reason you got hurt.” By his own mother, who would have tortured and killed him. “You’re the one who shouldn’t have had to go through all that, but I’m the reason it happened. And I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s my fault, just like it was back then. I make her mad, and I wasn’t supposed to be there, and then I was, with a St. George. It was the worst thing I could have done.” He wobbles again, swaying on his feet, though he manages to stay standing.

  “Come on. You should lie down.” I lead him toward the bed.

  “I have to explain first.”

  “No, you really don’t.”

  “She doesn’t like to look at me. She . . . she can’t control herself.” He’s shaking now, and it takes me a second to realize he’s shivering. “I knew that, but I . . . I thought she would be proud of me. I thought it would mean she didn’t have to hate me anymore.”

  “That what would?” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I pull the blankets back from the bed, making a space for him.

  He sits down and kicks off his shoes. He’s wearing socks, but I can see claws poking out of them. “I . . .” He’s shivering so hard, his jaw is shaking and his teeth are chattering, making it difficult to understand what he’s saying. “I was fourteen. I’d . . . I’d never flown before, and she hated that.”

  “Just lie down.” I try to put my hand on his shoulder, but he pulls away, not letting me touch him.

  “‘Even draclings can fly.’ That’s what she’d say. It made her sick to look at me. But one day I managed to get off the ground. My wings still worked back then,” he adds.

  Still worked? I glance at them, but he’s got them folded behind his back, and I can’t get a good look.

  “I wanted to show her. I thought maybe if I could fly, she wouldn’t get so mad. I mean, I couldn’t fly, but it was a start.”

  “You don’t have to tell me any of this. Please, lie down. You’re freezing, and exhausted, and you lost so much blood, and you say you’ll heal, but I—” I choke up a little, betraying just how worried I am.

  He blinks, taking that in. Then he lies down on his back, pushing his wings out a little and tucking them in along his sides.

  I pull the blankets over him.

  His eyes fall closed, and I think he’s finally going to let himself rest, but then he opens them. “I make her want to hurt me. I thought I could change that. I thought if I showed her that I wasn’t worthless, that maybe someday I could fly, she’d . . .” He shuts his eyes again, and this time tears leak out. He wipes them away with his arm.

  “She broke your wings.”

  He nods. His arm is still over his eyes, but I can see tears sliding down his cheeks. Some of them catch on the tiny scales that line the edges of his face. They follow the curve of them down to his jaw, while others slip into his hair. “She tried to kill me. If my father hadn’t walked in . . .”

  He’s crying harder now, and he’s really hurt, and no matter what he says, I know that what happened today was my fault. I caused this, and I don’t know what to do. “Do you want me to get someone?” There’s no way I’m leaving his room after getting chewed out by his father for wandering off, and there’s no way I’m leaving him alone when he’s this messed up, but I can ring the bell and ask one of the servants to do it. “I’ll call for Odilia.”

  “No!” He reaches out for me when I move to leave, his clawed hand grasping my arm. It’s the first time we’ve touched while he was in dragon form. His hand encircles the spot just above my wrist, his claws curving along my skin. He isn’t hurting me, but he looks horrified when he realizes what he’s just done and quickly lets go. “I don’t want anybody else here, and I . . . I don’t want you to leave.” His yellow eyes are pleading with me—Amelrik’s eyes—and I don’t know how I ever thought they made him look like a different person.

  “Yeah. Okay. I won’t.” The Princess Mysteries book is lying on the chest at the foot of the bed. I grab it and settle in next to him.

  29

  HOWEVER YOU GOT THAT WAY

  I wake up a long time later with my arm draped across Amelrik’s chest and my hand resting on his shoulder, my fingers brushing against the scales on his neck. I’m lying on my side next to him, and my forehead is pressed against his arm. I don’t think he’d want me touching him while he’s in dragon form like this, but he was having nightmares, and crying in his sleep, and I just wanted to comfort him.

  I should move, before he wakes up. I know I should. But I like being able to feel his warmth and the rise and fall of his breathing. I like being so close to him, and feeling cozy and safe, and I just want to savor this moment for as long as I can, before I have to let go.

  My fingertips explore the texture of the scales on his neck. They’re smooth, and a lot softer than I thought they’d be, though there’s resistance when I try to go against the grain.

  He swallows.

  I freeze. My face is still pressed against his arm, so I can’t see his reaction to any of this, but I know he’s awake. And that he felt me touching him.

  “Virginia?”

  I consider whether or not I can get away with pretending to still be asleep, but I don’t think he’d be fooled. I pull away, retreating to my side of the bed before I can embarrass myself any more than I already have.

  He sits up and stretches out his arms and his wings. One of them extends over me, and I get a glimpse of the splash of red scales at the base. Just for a second, and then he folds them back in and changes into human form.

  I sit up, too. “I was just . . . You were having nightmares, and I didn’t want you to be a
lone.” I glance over at him. “Are you okay?”

  The color’s returned to his face, and he no longer looks like he’s about to die. “Yeah. Mostly.” He runs a hand over the bloodstains on his side, where his wounds were.

  “Listen, about what happened . . . I know I already said this, but you were really out of it, so I’m going to say it again.” I spread my hands out against the blankets, feeling the velvet squish beneath my fingers. “I’m sorry. Sorry that you ever had to go through any of that with your mother, and sorry that you had to relive it because of me.”

  “You didn’t know. It wasn’t your—”

  “Please don’t say it wasn’t my fault.”

  His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Well, it wasn’t.”

  “And don’t say it was yours, either.”

  He’s silent.

  “Amelrik?”

  “I should have told you about her, but I . . . It makes my stomach hurt, just thinking about what happened. It makes me feel helpless and alone, like I’m there again. Like I . . .” He slides his hands over his face, then lets them fall to his lap. “I was so upset when my father sent me away. It was supposed to be Odilia. She was the one who was supposed to be part of the hostage exchange. But after my mother tried to . . . After I was . . .”

  He’s shaking, and not from the blood loss this time.

  “You don’t have to tell me about it.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. “After my mother almost killed me, my father decided it would be best if I wasn’t around. For my safety, and because I set her off. She’s mostly okay, as long as she doesn’t have to see me.”

  Doesn’t have to see him? “Um. I was there yesterday. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but your mother is insane, and I don’t buy that.”

  He looks down at the bed. “You saw her at her worst. Seeing me again, especially with a St. George, must have really freaked her out.”

  “I gathered that when she tried to kill us.”

  “I don’t know what she was like before. My father says she’s better when I’m not around, but . . .” He makes a face and rolls his shoulders, looking uncomfortable. When he notices me watching him, he says, “My wings ache.”