Chapter 37
Valtar
How easy it would be to end her life here and now.
I study her sleeping form from across the fire.
Indeed, I find it difficult to look anywhere else.
She is breathing deeply, having drifted away into deep dreams. Strange that she can rest so easily in my company, knowing what I am.
I don’t understand, don’t know what to make of it.
I’ve never met a soul so trusting. She makes my job too easy and yet… so profoundly complicated.
Nyxia is coming. I can already feel her trying to reach across our mental link, but for some reason, she can’t seem to break through.
Does it have something to do with Rosie?
With my nearness to her, another dragon princess?
She does not realize just how connected our two minds are already; I’ve taken care to keep up certain barriers between us.
But the truth is, she is a dragon. Just like Nyxia.
She can enter my head, and if she ever chose to, she could control and manipulate me as well.
Now, with two dragon princesses in relatively close proximity to each other, neither voice can dominate. Nyxia may try to enter, but so long as I stay near to Rosie, I can keep her out. For the moment at least.
My gaze moves slowly along the lines of Rosie’s body.
The gentle curve of her shoulder, the more generous curve of her hip.
The tumble of her golden curls, all snarled and tangled and yet so tempting in the glow of the afternoon sun and the flickering fire.
Every stray breeze makes her shiver in her sleep.
Because of course she gave my cloak to the dragon boy.
No thought for the fact that he has an internal furnace to keep him warm, just concern for a child—for a small, vulnerable creature. How very in character of her.
It’ll be a miracle if she survives three days out here in the wild.
I shake my head slowly. It’s impossible—everything about this situation.
Saving Arun? A fool’s notion. If in all these years, with every faculty I could spare devoted to this singular goal, I could not invent some means for his deliverance, then it cannot be accomplished.
Certainly not by a whimsical creature with a head full of sunshine.
Mhoryga is the embodiment of death; she rules Khylmira and the lives of all her enslaved subjects with absolute power. Who could possibly stand against her?
My plan of two nights ago is still the only one that makes sense: Return to Drathoridan. Let Mhoryga kill me and my brother together. Don’t let Arun die alone.
So why is it that, looking at Rosie now, I cannot seem to help feeling a warm stirring in the depths of my cold heart?
My brother’s voice whispers in the back of my head. It’s a fool’s hope. And yet…
“And yet,” I whisper.
Sitting upright, I rise to my feet, silent as a shadow.
For a moment, I stand over her, gazing down at her sleeping form.
At her face, heat blistered and yet so lovely, so peaceful in repose.
Her soft lips are parted with heavy breathing.
I remember how it feels to touch those lips, to crush them under mine.
I remember the taste of them, the hungry eagerness when moved, sending bolts of pure fire to ignite my veins.
How long will I be able to resist kissing her?
How long will I be able to resist killing her?
My fingers twitch, seeking the knife almost by instinct, eager for the plunge and the twist. It would all be so easy, over so fast. And then these foolish ideas—these painful, agonizing hopes—would be snuffed forever.
It’s the only answer. And it will not change her ultimate fate.
She is going to die. By my hand or another’s, her death is assured.
I, at least, will take pains to make it quick.
Instead I turn on heel and march away, leaving her where she lies by the fire, leaving the dragon boy where he still sleeps in the field.
Keeping the forest on my left hand, I stride southwest as swiftly as I can.
I walk for what feels like hours. I’m not afraid of losing Rosie—the connection between our souls is stronger than ever. I’ll find her again easily enough.
But I need some distance if I’m going to do what I need to.
I’ve walked for nearly three miles before I feel it again—that scraping of another consciousness against the edge of my mind.
Nyxia. Trying once more to reach me. I stop short, drawing a long breath.
I must be careful now. Everything about the next few moments comes down to maintaining a perfect balance of openness and restraint. And Nyxia won’t make it easy.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on that pinpoint spot in my mind where she is pressing, pushing, pricking. Slowly, carefully, I open it—and immediately her consciousness springs to life.
“Well, if it isn’t Val-Val,” she purrs. I see her in my head, her black hair tossed about her shoulders, her hands planted on her hips.
She wears the dark armor of the dracori, but somehow manages to make it look sensual, alluring even.
“You’re earlier than expected. Tell me you’ve got the heart. Tell me, tell me, please.”
Even as her words burst in my mind, I feel her grasping fingers trying to take control. I hold back, leaning into the counterforce of Rosie’s presence. But I can’t be too obvious about it.
“I have the princess,” I say.
“What?” Nyxia blinks her golden eyes at me. “As in…alive?”
“She has not yet manifested her flame.”
Silence burns between our minds. It lasts so long, I begin to wonder if our connection was broken. Then Nyxia snarls: “What did you say?”
I don’t answer; I simply fold my arms.
“A flameless heart is useless to Mother! As useless as mine!”
“I know.”
Nyxia throws up her hands and stomps a few paces to the right. No doubt she’s performing the same frustrated dance in physical form, many miles away. “What’s wrong with the girl? Have you tried enveloping her in a little hellfire?”
“I’ve got everything under control,” I answer coldly. “But you must tell Mhoryga to give me more time. I’ll bring in her prize. Only I must be allowed to do it in my own way.”
She gnashes her teeth—they bite on the edges of my mind. “What are you talking about? You need to bring the girl to me now, and—”
I step back. It takes but a few paces, and the connection is broken.
Rosie’s influence is still strong, even at a range of several miles.
I drop to my knees, breathing hard. For a little while, I can do nothing else.
Just breathe, in and out, willing my heart rate to calm.
That was close. Too close. But Nyxia is blocked out once more.
I can still sense her raging, furiously trying to find and pursue me again. But she can’t get through. Not yet.
When I’m certain my limbs can support me again, I rise.
Turning in place, I look back the way I have come.
Back to where even now Rosie lies sleeping, blissfully unaware of the true extent of her danger.
I must return to her…knowing all the while the peril I pose to her with my very presence.
And yet I must return. How can I do otherwise?
She may or may not be the salvation of this world.
I do not know. But of one thing I am absolutely certain.
She is my only hope.