Chapter 12 #3
He catches me looking, and I offer him a strained smile before hastening to sit next to Sigurd. He immediately reaches out and clasps my hand, and it’s a shocking relief to feel his warm skin against mine. I twine my fingers with his, and when I look up, the king is watching us.
“Ah, did I not tell you so, Sigurd?” he chides. “You should always listen to me.”
Sigurd grins at the man, no fear at all, but why would there be? He’s a bloody dragon. “If I listened to you, I’d be wearing out my feet dancing every night.”
“Nay,” the king says in mock horror. “We do not wish to be wounded during our revels, and dragon, you are the worst dancer I have ever seen.”
The courtiers around us immediately break into laughter, but Sigurd’s is the loudest.
“Speaking of invitations, may I invite you to eat, Cary?” the king says slyly, pointing to the tables behind us, decorated with holly and mistletoe and laden with every delicacy imaginable.
Before I can make a polite refusal, a loud growl sounds from Sigurd. It’s a chilling sound, and the courtiers all mutter and move away.
The king’s eyes flare, and I quickly break into the standoff. “I am fine, Your Majesty.” The king slowly turns to me. “We ate earlier but thank you for your kind offer. May I say that your fiddle playing is extraordinary? I have never heard sweeter music.”
His eyes lose their heat, and he says, “Thank you, Cary.” He looks at Sigurd. “You have found someone with manners, dragon. It is a welcome change.”
Sigurd merely inclines his head, his eyes never leaving the king, and his grip on my hand firm.
The king lounges in his great throne. The music is wild now, tugging at my bones and sinews with the urge to dip and whirl on this green floor.
The thought of dancing endlessly doesn’t seem so bad.
Sigurd’s grip tightens, and I realise I was swaying in my seat.
Stopping takes an effort, and I feel sweat breaking out on my brow.
“So, you come requesting a boon, dragon?”
Sigurd inclines his head. “Aye, sire. A mermaid has gone missing.”
The king rolls his eyes. “Aren’t they always going missing? Always nipping away to enchant some poor sailor. What is so special about this one?”
“She is from a prominent family at court.”
The king suddenly looks interested. “Word is that this family’s influence is growing.”
“You already knew,” I say without thinking and gulp as they both turn to me.
Sigurd’s eyes are full of reassurance, and the king chuckles.
“I know everything,” he says idly. “Past, present, and future—they all lie in me. I slumber in a field in the middle of nowhere, but still I know all.”
“Do you know where she is?”
His smirk is sly. “Ah, but where is the fun in that? I require reciprocation. Tell me something, Cary. What do you know of the Merry Maidens?”
“I know that the legend says that they were girls who danced at night and strayed into the sabbath. They were punished for it. The girls turned to stone in one field, and the fiddler and pipers in another where they had tried to leave.”
His response is loud laughter. The courtiers all join him, and I turn to Sigurd in a panic.
“Fear not,” he whispers. “You are doing well, my Cary.”
The king gazes at me. “Is that the story you humans tell?”
I nod.
“Ah, you are such an amusing race of people. The tale will do, I suppose, although my part in it is sadly depleted, for I was that fiddler, and it was I who tempted the pipers and the maidens.” One of the maidens shoots him a murderous look, but when he glances her way, her expression becomes placid.
He turns back to me. “And you have found the favour of The Lady. You are obviously more than you seem.”
“That’s rather a backhanded compliment,” I observe idly, and blanch.
He just laughs again. For a moment, he taps his fingers against the throne’s armrest, his green eyes busy. Then he turns to me. “Quid pro quo. I will give you the information you seek, but you must give me the same.”
“But what information do I have?” I ask, bewildered.
Sigurd sits forward on his chair, his golden eyes sharp and alert. “Sire,” he says warningly.
The king waves a careless hand at me. “Tell me why I should grant the dragon a boon when he does his best to stop me from adding to my court? Always removing humans from my reach.”
Sigurd opens his mouth, and I squeeze his hand. I don’t have time to weigh my words, so they come out unforced and naturally.
“Because he has immense power,” I say quietly, and the court falls silent, the king’s eyes on me. “But it’s harnessed to an innate cleverness and wisdom. He is funny, mischievous, but never unkind. He is not quick to anger. In his youth, he may have been impetuous.”
The king laughs. “Is that what they are calling it now?”
“But I believe centuries of living have changed that. He is a good man,” I say and turn to find Sigurd watching me. His golden eyes look fierce with some emotion.
“Thank you, Cary,” he says quietly. “You honour me.”
I turn back to the king. He’s watching us, and for a moment, I think I see envy. And then it’s gone. Everything he does is probably weighed up and considered.
“Sigurd is better as an ally and not an enemy.” I shrug. “Just as it’s better to have him as a guest in your home rather than burning the whole place to the ground.”
The king laughs loudly and looks to Sigurd. “That is an admirable testimony. You should be proud to have evoked such passionate defence.”
Sigurd takes my hand and kisses it. “I am proud that he sees me so, sire.”
I see the moment the king loses interest in trying to torture me. He sits back and waves a regal hand. “And so, I shall keep my bargain, Cary. You already have all the knowledge in your curly head to solve the mystery of the missing Melusine. Think hard and the answer shall come to you.”
“That’s it?” I say without thinking.
He winks and then looks at the sky. “Dawn is approaching,” he calls in a loud, urgent voice. “Take your places, my people.”
My mouth drops open as the courtiers around us immediately dissipate into grey smoke.
It trails through the air for a moment and then is rapidly sucked into the ground.
I turn to see the tables of food have vanished, and the lady dancers stand for a second, clasping hands before moving to form a circle on the field.
They look to the sky, and before I can take another breath, they’ve turned to stone.
The pipers have gone, too. Only the king remains.
“But I don’t know the answer,” I say, suddenly desperate.
“It is old news,” he says, his voice growing fainter. “Only fit for the tables of small provincial hotels.”
He tips his cap at me, the feather waving jauntily, and then he’s gone.
When I look around, the field is full of dawn light, the stars winking out, and red appearing on the horizon. It’s cold and Sigurd immediately wraps his arms around me.
“Come. You did well.”
“I didn’t. I got nothing from him.” I shiver as we pass the stones. They’re covered in lichen and pitted with age—no sign of the beautiful women. “Speaking of him, where did he go?”
“He is over there.” He nods to the middle of the field, and in the growing light, I see a huge rock leaning slightly, alone.
I mull over the king’s words as we leave the field the way we came. What did he mean about hotels? The only hotel I’ve been in lately was the one I shared with Adrian. A thought smashes into my brain, and I stop dead.
“What can a mermaid do with her comb?” I ask breathlessly. “I know it’s her key to going home, but can it do anything else?”
Sigurd holds my gaze. “She can control the wind and the tides.”
“Oh my god. I know where Melusine is.”