26. Quiet moments
26
QUIET MOMENTS
The bed dipped as Sicaryon sat down next to Anahrod. Neither said anything.
Gwydinion was still pulling clothing out of his folding box. He was also humming to himself.
Anahrod just shook her head. She’d asked for a folding box when she was sent to Yagra’hai. She’d begged for one, in fact.
Her mother—their mother—had told her they were too expensive.
Anahrod had gotten one in the end, of course, but only because she’d stolen it.
“Heights, is it?” Sicaryon’s voice was just barely higher than a whisper, but he switched to speaking Sumulye.
Anahrod tore her eyes away from watching her brother. She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Embarrassing.”
“It explains a few things,” Sicaryon said.
“That’s why Peralon gave me the dragonstone,” she said, gesturing to the evidence of that heresy. “I’ll need to be over it by the time we—you know.” She grimaced. “Been having nightmares, and I’d rather not wake everyone.”
If he’d made some sort of puerile joke about offering to be her comfort blanket, she’d have hit him, but his survival instincts must’ve warned him in time.
“I’m used to sleeping lightly,” was all he said, which could be read several ways. They’d slept with one eye open when traveling because there’d always been the possibility of an ambush at any hour. Perhaps the situation hadn’t changed appreciably just because he wore a crown.
“You’re not worried someone will stage a coup while you’re gone?” Anahrod asked. A question that had nothing at all to do with sleeping patterns.
“They’re welcome to try,” Sicaryon replied. “But that’s not the question I thought you’d ask.”
“Oh?” She turned her head to look at him directly. “What was?”
“Who the Valekings were.”
She couldn’t remember the context for a second, and then did, and flushed with embarrassment. Her gaze snapped forward again. “You knew I was eavesdropping, didn’t you?”
“It’s not like I wouldn’t have done the same if I had your powers.”
“Ah.” She wasn’t sure how she should feel about the lack of judgment. Sicaryon wasn’t exactly the first in line to be anyone’s moral compass. “So… who were the Valekings?”
“Slavers,” he answered. “Really nasty ones. Story goes they captured a beautiful girl with eyes like the jungle and hair the color of blood. She suffered countless indignities before she learned powerful sorcery. The story varies after that, but in most versions, she woke a sleeping dragon while trying to escape and he killed everybody.”
She chewed on that. “Don’t suppose it was a gold dragon?”
“In fact, it was. Stands out, especially since there aren’t a lot of stories in the Deep where dragons are the heroes.”
“No,” she agreed. “There aren’t.” She didn’t have to ask why he’d never told her the story, either. The last thing a teenage Anahrod had wanted to hear were positive stories about dragons . “You don’t think it’s just a folktale?”
He raised an eyebrow at her.
She sighed. “Fine. Neither do I.” Too many details fit. Ris’s age was no rebuttal, either: dragonriders often aged slower than normal humans.
“She is beautiful,” he said.
“She is.”
“Maybe a little baffling, though.”
Anahrod snorted. “Like either of us is any better.” She held out her left hand, pretending to admire the garden rings there. “Shame I couldn’t find a ring that means ‘I’m attracted to people who are vengeance-obsessed and prone to extreme violence.’ Would’ve been perfect.”
“Very niche.”
“No, very niche is renic root, which apparently means ‘I am sexually attracted to cloth dolls.’”
Sicaryon’s bark of laughter was loud enough to startle Gwydinion, who gave them a faintly accusing and unintentionally adorable look.
Sicaryon laughed again, then kissed Anahrod on the temple and stood. “I’ll go see if the quartermaster has anyone with a pair of singles who’d like to swap for one of our doubles.” He retreated through the door, leaving her alone in the suite with Gwydinion.
“He seems nice,” Gwydinion said, without an ounce of sincerity. “Nicer than I would’ve thought, considering,” he added. “I expected him to be more, you know…”
“Covered in mud?” Anahrod rubbed a hand over her face.
“No. More ‘evil king who doesn’t understand what the word “no” means.’ I was putting my money on Ris, but now I’m not so sure.”
Thank Eannis Claw wasn’t around to hear him. She’d immediately start a betting pool.
Anahrod sighed. Claw already had, hadn’t she?
In any case… “She’s a dragonrider.”
Gwydinion grinned. “Is that such a bad thing?” The smile faltered. “I mean… I know you don’t have any reason to like dragons, but they’re not all terrible. Peralon seems pretty sunshine.”
She resisted the urge to tell Gwydinion he was too young to understand. That wouldn’t win her any approval, even if it was true. “Gwydinion, this isn’t important.” He started to protest, and she continued. “It’s not. We are dealing with an evil dragon who keeps killing anyone who’s sent to the school in Yagra’hai with the power to speak to animals, and that’s you . That’s both of us. You’re going to be in danger from the moment we’re within five miles of that damn mountain and I wasn’t in the mood to forgive Ris for that even before I found out that you’re my brother.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m going to do this, then say my goodbyes.”
Gwydinion squinted at her. “To do what? Go back to the jungle and pretend none of this ever happened?”
“I don’t—” Anahrod’s breath felt thick and heavy, despite the altitude.
What happened next?
“I can’t come back,” Anahrod said. “Even if we pull off the plan perfectly. If this—” She shook her head. This wasn’t the right place to go into details. The suite wasn’t secure, and she had every reason to think people were paying attention. “Ris hasn’t told you what we’re doing, has she?”
“Not intentionally,” he admitted. “I’ve pieced together some clues, anyway. You’ll finish with enough money for you to start over, yes? Maybe not in Seven Crests, but…”
“Maybe,” she said. “Probably.”
“You know Mom would do anything to have you back,” Gwydinion said.
Anahrod didn’t hide how ridiculous she found that idea.
“It’s true,” he protested.
She scoffed. He was a sweet kid. He really was. She could hardly blame him for wanting to have his happy family, the one that he must have decided could exist despite all evidence to the contrary.
“It’s not.” Anahrod frowned. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. But she hurt me. She hurt me a lot, and that wound’s never healed.”
He rocked back on his heels. “She never meant to. She’s the whole reason I came after you.”
Anahrod frowned, taken aback. “I thought the dragon—” She started over. “What do you mean?”
Gwydinion moved a curtain to the side, just enough for him to look out the window. “She was fine when I was younger, but she’s so sad all the time now. Stoically, broodingly sad. Or she used to be. She’s mostly angry these days, but honestly, that’s an improvement.”
“Sad?” Anahrod couldn’t picture it. Belsaor? Sad?
“For the longest time I couldn’t figure out why,” Gwydinion said. “Then I realized it was me.”
“Gwydinion—”
“I was reminding her of you. And she never got over being unable to save you.”
Anger curled around her gut, stung her eyes. “She never tried.”
“That’s not true,” Gwydinion said. “Or—” He sighed. “If it is true, she’s compensating by being overprotective. I’ve told you about all the lessons, the training. I’m never, ever allowed to go anywhere without a wingsuit. I’m wearing one right now.”
Anahrod raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t.
“No,” he reassured her. “I really am. She inscribed these.” He held up his arms, with the bracelets he always wore. “I love her, but she needs to back off and let me be a stupid teenager. Father says it’s an important part of my development.”
Anahrod couldn’t help herself; she laughed.
“So, you see,” he continued, “that’s why I need my sister back. You can defend me and complain when I’m allowed to get away with all the things that you weren’t. What’s the point of being the youngest child if I’m never treated like it?”
She exhaled. He was staring at her with wide eyes, enough to do any baby proud. “I appreciate what you’re saying, kid, but…” Anahrod sighed. “No matter how this goes, I’m still a wanted criminal. Worse, I’m apparently evil incarnate. If I start hanging out with the Doreyl family, people will ask questions. Or have you not noticed how much I resemble our mother?”
He sighed. “No. I’ve noticed.” He added, “So you’re just going to leave?”
“I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice.” She hated the look on the boy’s face, but she wouldn’t lie to him.
She just didn’t see any other options.