Chapter 25
Since last night . This entire time…he’s been just outside?
I stare at Tilly for another second before launching myself from the tent.
Even the muted glow of sunset seems harsh after a day spent inside, and I squint against the sudden change as I fling looks back and forth.
Boyd and Fuller, standing at attention a short distance away, step forward as if to speak to me, but I’m already striding toward the left.
Where is he?
Yes, I was focused on my task, but how could I not know he was so close? Why did no one tell me sooner? Then again, who would? Rally and Ty are gone, and neither my guards nor Hiln are tasked with informing me of the king’s whereabouts. Guilt lances through me.
I should have asked where he was. If I had disappeared, he would have torn the camp apart in search of me. What if something terrible had happened to him?
I have to find him. Pushing my hair back from my face, I lengthen my stride. I’ve nearly walked the entire perimeter of the tent. Tilly said he was here. Surely, I haven’t missed—
I stop short.
The creature stalking toward me is caught somewhere between man and beast. Skin and scales intermingle.
An elongated jaw gnashes over far too many teeth.
A single, malformed wing snaps open and shut behind him in agitation.
He mutters to himself as he walks, and it suddenly strikes me how eerily quiet it is here, as if everyone had been sent away.
Or they retreated in fear.
A few days ago, I would have wanted to as well.
“Soren.”
Eyes, nearly feverish in their intensity, lift to me, and my heart swells with pity.
What has happened to him?
“Princess,” he grinds out. The word is garbled by the multitude of teeth. Even as I watch, the point of one sharpened fang pierces his lip, and a drop of blood trickles down his face. He doesn’t seem to notice.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask softly, my pulse thundering in my ears.
He scans the sky but doesn’t answer.
From the corner of my eye, I mark Boyd, Fuller, and now Yarl creeping nearer. Do they fear he’ll hurt me?
“She can’t have you,” Soren rumbles, still watching the sky.
Despite the cooling air, a bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck, but I clasp my hands in front of me in the very picture of calm. “Who?”
Again, he gives no answer. In sharp contrast, the water continues its unending refrain, now in singsong form.
Go away, away, awayyy.
I’ve never met with something so aggravating.
Shush, I snap. Normally, I’d never speak to water this way, but then again, I’ve never dealt with water like this.
Mercifully, the voice quiets.
I take a deep breath and turn my attention back to Soren. “Might you come inside with me for a moment?”
This question he does answer with a shake of his head. “Guarding.”
Against what? “My guards will inform us if there is anything of interest.”
He doesn’t so much as glance their way, though they’ve edged even closer. In this state, he may soon see them as a threat to me, but I worry that motioning them to move back will only alert him to their presence. What should I do? I can’t leave him like this.
Mother would. She would turn around, leave him to his own devices, and not concern herself. Celeste would summon tears to move him. Ambril would lift one of her dark brows to make him feel foolish. I stare at my betrothed, at the deep shadows beneath his wild eyes.
I should have come for him sooner.
“My Soren,” I say, and his gaze latches onto mine like a beacon in a storm. “Will you come inside?”
He looks at me, hungry and hopeful all at once, yet he still doesn’t move. I hold a hand out to him.
“Please?”
At that singular word, he sets his clawed hand in mine.
Relief washes over me. I walk us to the entrance of the tent with the strange feeling that I’m leading him away from some nameless precipice, and for the first time, I wonder if there’s a sort of chasm between the man and the dragon that one could slip into if they weren’t careful.
At the thought, I grip his hand even tighter.
I’ll not let him fall.
My guards sink back into the shadows of neighboring tents, and I note a slighter figure scampering past them as I guide Soren inside. Poor Tilly. No wonder she was so worried for him. His wing gets caught on the flaps of the entrance, and I stop to gently fold the appendage and guide him inside.
Once within, I lead us to a grouping of floor cushions, and setting a pillow on my lap, draw him down beside me.
“Lie down,” I say, patting the pillow.
Between his horns and the single wing, a bit of arranging is needed, but he complies without a sound.
With a touch of shyness, I begin stroking his hair. I start along his forehead, and as he relaxes, move toward his horns. I’ve never touched them before, and I’m hesitant to do so now. When my fingers brush near one, his brow tightens, and I pull away.
“No,” he says, reaching up to search for my hand. When he finds it, he places it back at the base of the horn.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.
“They ache.”
My lips part at the realization. Of course they do. They’re far larger than usual. I shift my touch to a gentle massage, and though he winces at first, he soon shuts his eyes, sagging with relief.
In time, the scales fade, the teeth recede, the wing withdraws. The slow transformation gives me time to think on his words, and when he looks more man than beast, I dare to ask, “Soren, when you said she can’t have me…did you mean my mother?”
For a moment, I worry I asked the question too soon. A fresh spate of scales breaks out along his forearms, and a growl rumbles from his throat. But with a look of concentration, he comes back to himself.
“Yes,” he says finally.
So that’s what this is. I continue my soft, steady touch. “That seems a bit selfish of a thought when her safety is in question,” I say without malice.
His eyebrows form a sharp peak of indignation. Then his eyes lower, and he sighs.
“You’re right.” He glances up at me, his gaze severe but sincere. “Forgive me, Serah.”
“I forgive you.”
He turns aside, almost as if embarrassed. “For what it’s worth,” he grumbles, “I don’t believe your mother is in danger.”
“I don’t either,” I say, and I didn’t know I thought so until I said it aloud. Doubting the pleas of one’s mother seems rather cold-hearted.
Then again, few mothers are like mine. For now, I tuck the thought away.
My cat friend, who has been stretched out across the bed, lumbers over, and with a husky mrow, climbs onto Soren’s chest.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out to remove him.
Soren’s arms fly up over the cat. “Why are you sorry?”
“I didn’t know if you would want him there. I believe he’s my cat now.”
Soren gapes. “He is not. He’s my cat.”
My jaw drops. “What do you mean?”
“This cat came to me the day of your arrival. He chose me.”
“But he chose me the day of my arrival. He came to my room.”
Soren eyes the cat. “What an opportunist you are.”
My cat friend answers with a slow blink. I cover my mouth to hide my grin. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to share him then.”
This elicits a few more grumbles on Soren’s part. “I suppose so.”
The cat folds his front feet beneath him and begins to purr. He seems rather pleased to be fought over. “What shall we call him?”
Soren strokes the animal’s back. “He’s the color of basbousa.”
“What’s bas-boo-suh?”
“It’s a cake.”
Of course it is. I scratch the cat between his notched ears. “Basbousa it is then.”
A comfortable quiet settles over us, and for some time, I’m reluctant to break it, especially when Soren’s eyes close. I find, though, that I must make one point clear between us.
“Soren?”
“Hm?”
I trace a fingertip over the hard, unyielding surface of one of his horns. “If my mother’s goal is to come here to bring me back with her—” And now that I think about it, I have little doubt it is. “—then I need you to understand something.”
His eyes snap to mine, a predator’s gleam returning there. I look down at him and smooth the hair back from his forehead.
“I am a grown woman,” I say. “Whatever my mother may want for me, I’ve made my decision. I stay with you.”
He swallows, hard, at that. “Serah, I need to—”
GO AWAY!
Perhaps I’m tired, or perhaps I have a looser hold on my emotions after sampling so many in the last hour. Whatever the reason, at this latest prodding from the water, I slap the ground and shout, “You go away! You are the most exasperating thing I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”
Soren shoots upright, clutching a wide-eyed Basbousa to himself.
“I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing my temples. “It’s the water. It won’t stop telling me to go away.”
“Telling you? It talks?”
“Yes.” Even as I say it, the water begins chanting anew.
Go away go away go away…
I sigh and direct a thought that way. If you’ll tell me why, perhaps I will.
At least for a time.
Tired, the water says in a sulky tone.
Perhaps you wouldn’t be if you would stop yelling at me.
The answer is the same. Tired.
I click my tongue in frustration. You’re tired because you’ve spent too much time in the dark. You will not be tired if you come to see the sun.
I sense hesitation. Confusion.
Sun?
I startle. This water doesn’t remember the sun?
How long has it been down there?
Soren remains quiet as I shut my eyes and try my best to convey a sense of warmth and light.
Sun, I repeat. Remember? I take deep breaths, restoring my patience. It may take time to communicate the concept of the sun, but I have the water’s interest now. This is progress.
I’ll come.
My eyes pop open. “What?”
There’s no answer, only a sense of rising, like a dragon leaping into the sky.
No, no, I say, flattening my hands on the sand. That’s too fast!
Sun, the water cries.
Oh no.
“Soren,” I say, and he’s already on his feet with me, Basbousa under one arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The water.” I clutch onto his free arm with both hands. “It’s coming. All of it. Right now.”
His pupils narrow. “How long?”