Chapter 3 #2
The princess rides at the front with the small group of soldiers her father sent along, while Ragnakor rides alongside me toward the back. He doesn’t attempt conversation, and neither do I. There’s nothing left to talk about between us, now that we’re here, now that everything is about to change.
When afternoon finally drips into evening, we decide to make camp for the night. My tent is rolled out and erected, as is the princess’s. They are placed next to each other, to my chagrin, but at least we don’t have to share one.
“How was your ride?”
Her high voice startles me. It reminds me of an animal as it screams for death.
“Long.” I open the flap to my tent. “And I would like to forget it.”
Then I step inside and let it fall closed behind me. There I stay, reclining on my flimsy cot and trying to empty my mind of all the nonsense. And still, the world feels like it’s crumbling and collapsing in on me.
I can’t forget. It’s impossible to push aside my memory of the last time Ragnakor came into my rooms, nor the last time he left them. It was before we embarked on this journey, when the idea of marrying a human still felt far off.
How good he’d felt, buried up to the hilt. How he had nosed the back of my neck, murmuring praise into my ear. Then he found it, that spot deep inside me that longs so much. As he caressed my back and stroked in such a powerful, marvelous rhythm, I couldn’t help breaking underneath him.
We lay there, our heavy breaths mixing in the air. My dragon, with his eyes as hard as stone, had held me close. We didn’t exchange words because there were none left to speak.
I sit alone with this memory, rolling it over in my mind, closing my eyes and wishing I could rewind time until the sound of the others enjoying themselves around the fire gets too loud to ignore. I can smell food, and I need something to eat after the long day of traveling.
When I emerge, the sky is dark and dotted with stars. We’re out in the open here, as much of the human lowlands are, and even the mountains look far away.
I’m surprised to find the human soldiers sitting around the fire along with my own guards as they eat their dinner. My footman notices me and quickly brings me soup, bread, and roast pheasant, which must have been procured tonight and saved for me.
I don’t see the princess anywhere, though. Not that it matters, but it’s curious that she’s absent. Perhaps she, too, is hiding in her tent.
I find Ragnakor sitting among the soldiers, as he does, always able to drift easily between worlds. He’s not royalty, but he sits close to us; he’s not a commoner, but he fits in among them. I’ve always envied that, how he can be some of both things and he never feels ill at ease.
I am always ill at ease. There is only one of me now, the royalty, the king, and I will forever be alone in that.
I correct myself. I will be, until I’m finally married to the princess. Then, I suppose, she will be a ruler alongside me.
We will always be strangers, though.
Still, instead of returning to my tent with my meal, I find a space on a log near Ragnakor and his closest guards. They fall quiet as I take my spot, and all heads turn to me.
The king himself is sitting among them.
“What?” I snap. “Not allowed to eat now, am I?”
A few of my guards chuckle uncertainly, but the humans look stricken.
To make my point, I stuff some bread in my mouth and chew with renewed surliness.
A few of them begin to eat again, and eventually, the conversation picks up where it left off.
The humans are glad they’ll get to turn around as soon as they see the princess to the deposit point, because they’ve always feared the mountains.
My own guards laugh at this, calling them weaklings, but it’s surprisingly good-natured. It irks me that dragons should stoop to sit around a fire with these pitiful little humans and make conversation as if they are peers.
Nearby, a shadow steps out of the darkened trees. Ragnakor’s hand falls to the sword at his hip. Other guards rise to their feet, until the figure gets close enough that the firelight casts a red glow on her small face.
Princess Nissia holds up her hands, and from one of them dangles a rabbit. “Sorry for startling you,” she says. “Caught this little bastard. Where’s the best place to cook it?”
The guards shoot each other perplexed looks, but Ragnakor gets up and calls out for the camp chef. She drops the rabbit into the cook’s hands, then holds out the bloodied knife she must have used to kill her prey and cleans it off with a rag.
I’m flabbergasted. I thought she was a spoiled high-born.
“Done staring yet?” she asks me without looking up from what she’s doing.
I balk, caught in the act. Coming up with something quickly, I say, “Just marveling at your barbarism, princess.”
She shrugs. “Can’t send me back now.” Her head tilts up, so we’re finally looking at one another—and she grins playfully.
Is she trying to joke with me? About the sorry state of this future marriage? About everything I’ve lost?
I growl low in my throat, and the grin quickly falls from her lips.
“This is not funny,” I snap. “This is not a game. You will be expected to behave a certain way in my kingdom to be a proper queen, and this is not proper.”
Her plump lips part, and her hands freeze on what they’re doing.
There we are. I can wound her just as I have been wounded. But strangely, when her brows furrow and the hurt registers on her face, I don’t feel much better than I did before.
Annoyed with this outcome, I turn around and stalk back to my tent, leaving her that way.