57. Dimitri
57
He couldn’t sleep, though her light snores showed she had no such qualms. Exhaustion had finally taken Harper. Dimitri leaned against the doorframe, his eyes narrowed, watching the gentle rise and fall of the covers on Harper’s prone form. Despite their conversation, he still could not fathom how she came to be there, from Caledan to Pelenor, and the strange series of events, not the least of which was the Dragonheart’s bizarre destination.
Had he not seen the Mark of Saradon that she carried so preciously at the expense of any other treasure or talisman—and the only thing she had asked for to be returned to her—he would have said it could be nothing of his making. But with the mark of the infamous half-elf, and the elven blood running through her veins that marked her as different from all others in the non-magical realm of Caledan, there had to be an element of destiny within it all.
Why did it come to you? he silently asked her still form. Did it have something to do with Saradon? Perhaps because he had somehow recovered the relic when his magic had failed, the stone had found some form of Saradon’s likeness somewhere else. Did it have something to do with her tattered bracelet and the Mark of Saradon upon it? What did that mean far away in Caledan? It all seemed entirely impossible, yet there he was, grasping at the smallest explanation.
An enigma.
Was it his own miscalculation, or fate? He did not believe in chance. No, it was by some design that she of all individuals had found the Dragonheart, that she of all people had come to be there. The mystery of her consumed him. What an individual she was. He uttered a quiet laugh and shook his head. His spirit leaped at the challenge in her. He could do little else but wonder at her.
The first time he had seen her, he might have forgiven her misdemeanour to draw a bow with an arrow nocked in his very face. He had been so amused then by the defiance in her silver eyes. She might have not known his identity, but she had recognised him for the danger he was and she had not backed down. But now? Now, she knew precisely who he was, had seen—had tasted—his power, and still, it had not brought her, practically a mortal, to her knees begging for mercy.
No. She hadn’t done that at all. She had stolen a knife from his very own table and put it to his throat. He had never met anyone quite like her—and she thrilled him. No doubt it would be beyond tricky to navigate what was to come next, especially if he needed to finish with the Dragonheart in hand, but he had no doubt whatsoever that she was going to make it deliciously interesting. He started at a small tapping on the outside. With a last look at Harper, he silently closed her door and answered the tapping. One of his operatives at the door to his suites.
“Yes?”
“Rook reporting, sir. Word has made it back to the king that you have the prisoner he detained for the theft of a Dragonheart. You’re about to be summoned.”
He nodded, and Rook melted into the shadows. Dimitrius barred the door again, locking it and putting up his wards, then charged back to Harper’s room, pulling a bell cord on the way.
“Harper, wake up,” he called in a low, urgent voice. She stirred. After a second of grogginess, she jumped from the bed, whipped something gleaming from under her pillow and brandished… a candlestick holder at him. Amusement and something deeper bloomed. She was untameable.
“What are you doing in here?” she demanded, her eyes narrowed, every muscle in her body tensed. He noted that she still remained fully clothed.
He decided not to remark on the makeshift weapon, which she had somehow filched from the dining room without him knowing. “It is my abode.” He raised a brow, but continued without waiting for a venomous response. “I apologise, but there’s no time. I thought we had until morning, but alas, I was mistaken. The Kingsguard is on its way. They come for both of us.” He knew there remained only one card in his arsenal. To take her to the king as his own tool.
“You called, m’lord?” A maid appeared, and Harper jumped at her presence. Her blank eyes slid over Harper without lingering before settling upon Dimitri.
“Emyria, I need you to obtain a squire’s outfit for this young lady at once. Nothing too fancy or too shabby.”
Emyria sized up Harper with a critical eye, before bobbing her head and scurrying away.
Dimitri turned back to Harper. “I need you to listen and follow my instructions to the very letter. Do you understand me? For goodness sake. Put down that trinket. You know that’s no defence.”
“What’s happening? What do you want?”
Dimitri sighed. “What I want is a different matter. What I need right now is to make sure the pair of us survives the night. The king’s men are coming. If you want to avoid an excrutiatingly painful death, I need you to act exactly as I tell you. I assume you would like to remain alive and well?” He raised an eyebrow.
Dumbfounded, she nodded.
“Fantastic. Get ready to meet the king…”