Thirteen dead, you mean, Oriana thought. More than that, really, if you counted the thirty murdered by that treasonous snake Rheem. “Where are they?”
“Gamen took the surviving lot to find food. The, er, resting are—”
“Just call them dead, Rol.”
“Right.” He sat beside her. “They’re in the church.”
Oriana felt Rol’s hand sidle up her arm, then down. She smiled at that. “I think we should bury them in the ocean. They died fighting at her shores.”
Rol flicked away debris from his beard. “Sounds nice. And, er… what about us? Not you and me—everyone.” A whelp cried from somewhere in the citadel, prompting him to add, “Everything. Unless you count dragons as people.”
“I promised Farris the might of my dragons.”
“Promises get broken a whole lot. Is that one you’re gonna keep?”
Oriana turned. No one was there. “Of course I’m going to keep it,” she said, absent even a tinge of emotion. Then, in a low mumble, “Of course I’m going to keep it.”
Rol sniffed. “You could make a claim on your sister’s throne. I bet you’d have plenty of backers—probably the whole damn city of Haeglin would get behind you.”
Oriana brushed an oily and sweaty clump of auburn hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to be queen of Haeglin, Rol.”
“Oh. I see. I thought—”
With flared nostrils and lively eyes, she looked to him and said, “I want to be queen of the world. Of a changed world.” She held her breath for a moment, then pushed it out. “But maybe I’ll have to settle for being its savior. It’s a tough thing, I think, changing the world.”
“Almost impossible,” Rol agreed.
She smiled. “Almost impossible.”
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Justin DePaoli called Pittsburgh home for twenty-one years, but now lives in Kentucky with his fiancee, daughter, stilt-legged German shepherd, two cats, and a company of fish.
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The Dragon Thief (Sorcery and Sin Book 1) Page 41
