Alinore
‘Am I dead?’ she asked. Her body felt heavy and dull. She experimentally wiggled her toes and they moved, but the sensation was muted.
‘Thankfully not.’
‘I’m injured,’ she announced, remembering searing, white-hot pain.
‘That makes both of us.’
As the last wisps of drugged sleep slipped away, Alinore glanced around the small, dim room.
There were heaps of child-sized clothes strewn across the floor and three beds squashed against the walls.
She was lying on one of the narrow straw mattresses with a faded patchwork quilt folded up to her chin.
Tugging it away, she saw red blisters scattered across her arms and chest. She prodded one.
Something was softening the jagged edges of her pain, but even through the numbness she could feel a tender ache.
Looking up, she saw that Prince Ottone was still watching her, his features lit by the pale, early-morning light glowing at the single small window.
‘What happened to your face?’ she asked.
‘Not much. It’ll heal and leave a few scars. Luckily, I never had any good looks to lose. One advantage of not being handsome.’
He was sitting on the edge of her bed, the warm bulk of his leg pressing into her side.
‘I think you’re handsome,’ she said before she could stop herself.
‘You do?’
She shrugged and looked away, blushing. Whatever herb concoction she had taken seemed to have also loosened her tongue. ‘I suppose I’ll be left with a few scars of my own,’ she said, easing herself upright and pulling the patchwork blanket over her arms again.
‘You can’t fight a dragon without sustaining a few injuries, Lady Alinore.’
Visions of a huge, writhing form crashing down upon her clouded Alinore’s mind. She saw streams of fire, gushing black blood and menacing yellow eyes. Panic surged and she clawed at the bedclothes, her knuckles blanching.
‘Don’t worry, it’s gone,’ said Prince Ottone, placing one of his hands over her own. His skin was rough and warm, the pressure of his palm gentle but firm. ‘You’re safe now.’
Slowly, the fear began to subside.
‘I did kill a dragon,’ she replied finally. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Cress told me.’
He shifted as if to move his hand away, but she curled her fingers around his thumb, holding him still. He looked surprised, but then smiled.
‘Is Cress all right?’ she asked.
‘She’s in shock, I think. We all are. But she’s alive.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Just outside. She said she wanted to get some fresh air.’
Images of thrashing scaled tails and long swiping talons still filled Alinore’s head. ‘I feel a bit sick,’ she admitted. ‘And sort of … odd.’
He nodded and squeezed her fingers.
‘You once told me that fighting wasn’t noble and there were no heroes in war,’ added Alinore. ‘I think I now know what you meant.’
She thought of Princess Tiannie’s naked body lying broken on the rocky, pitted mountain ridge. The nausea in her stomach rose to the back of her throat.
‘You’ll be changed by it,’ replied Prince Ottone. ‘The same thing happened to me after fighting in Journier. But it was still the right thing for you to do.’
Taking a shaky breath, she tried to believe him.
‘And you are a hero, Alinore. Your father would be proud.’
Tears welled in her eyes and, before she could stop them, two snaked down her cheeks, their saltiness stinging the blisters on her chin.
‘He killed a dragon once too. It was always my favourite of his battle tales.’
‘It must run in the family.’
Without letting go of her hand, Prince Ottone raised his other arm and gently brushed her tears away. Then he leant forward, his face close to her, their foreheads almost touching.
‘Do you still want to leave Calestra?’ he asked. ‘Yesterday I promised I’d take you to the High King’s court and vouch for your squireship myself, and I’ll honour that agreement, of course.’
He smelt of peppermint and herbs and his voice was soft and almost pleading.
‘To be a lady knight is what I’ve always wanted,’ she replied.
‘But …’
‘But?’
His hand tightened around her fingers and she felt the coarse brush of callouses on his palm. A light, fluttery feeling moved through her chest.
‘Would you be a lady knight in Calestra instead? Would you stay?’ he asked, studying her face. ‘Things are different now. Samsel is … gone. And you’re a Dragonslayer. You don’t need to leave …’
She stared into his brown eyes – more familiar to her than her own – and she finally caught the deep, brimming devotion that had always been there. She almost gasped with the force of it.
‘What are you asking me?’
One corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. He raised his free hand and stroked her cheek. ‘Lady Alinore, will you be Calestra’s first lady knight?’ he asked. ‘Will you be my lady knight?’
She could not help but smile back. ‘Yes, my King.’
As he tipped his chin forward, she tilted her head, and their lips touched – gently, briefly.
Warmth swept through Alinore’s body, and she leant in further, pressing her mouth more firmly against his again.
The kiss was tender, but filled with a gentle hunger too, and as it deepened, Prince Ottone cupped her jaw as Alinore grasped hold of his shirt.
It felt sweet, wonderful and right.
They broke apart, faces still close, breath mingling. Alinore opened her eyes and gently brushed a finger against a cut on his chin.
‘That looks sore. Am I hurting you?’
‘I don’t mind.’
She laughed and held him tighter.
‘I’ve wanted this to happen for so long,’ he murmured.
‘You have?’
‘Yes, of course. Surely you knew.’
She shook her head, giddy with the thought, longing to kiss him again.
‘It’s always been you, Alinore.’
She held his face in her hands and pulled him to her.
Their mouths were soft but fervent, their caresses thrilling and eager. He shifted beside her on the bed and clasped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. They lay together, facing one another.
‘I want a new sword,’ whispered Alinore. ‘A really good one.’
Prince Ottone laughed. ‘Consider it done. The best sword flecks can buy for Calestra’s Dragonslayer.’
Then he kissed her again.