Chapter 29 #2
“Most knights wield enchantment like it’s a separate body; a heavy weight they’re slugging behind them and trying to shove into action. You wield it like it’s a part of you. Like you’re a natural at using magic.”
“And here I thought witchcraft was nothing like enchantment,” I drawl. I already know they're related. I’ve seen it, in the bond marks; in the spell Roiven drew for the fire.
“It’s a perversion,” he growls. I can both feel and hear his anger, but I don’t think it’s directed at me.
“Glad to know I’m a skilled perverter.”
Roiven barks a laugh.
“Who knew Cai’d be funny when she was sleep deprived,” he whispers in my ear. I’m not sure we should be laughing about enchantment, not when it’s claimed so many lives. But there’s a warmth building in my chest.
There’s a flick of alarm from him, and his arm tightens around my waist. That’s the only warning I have before Sava plummets down.
I scream, but it isn’t really fear this time.
It’s just the way the wind feels as we dive through it.
We dip all the way down towards the water and then pull abruptly up as gravity presses me meltingly tight against Roiven’s chest and hips.
My stomach dances and my whole body feels wide awake.
I don’t see how this will help me sleep later, but I’m certainly not thinking about the nightmare anymore.
Sava grunts.
“That seems like a happy noise.”
“She caught a big one,” Roiven says. I can hear the smile on his lips.
I leave aside the question of how she can go fishing in the pitch-black. The dragon evens out. We glide peaceably beneath the stars and the wisps of shredded cloud.
“I told you ships used to go missing,” Roiven says abruptly.
“Yes. I guess I was on one of those, wasn’t I?”
Roiven’s hand squeezes my hip.
“Sounds like it’s getting easier for you to talk about.”
“I just don’t think too closely about what it means,” I say quietly.
Roiven’s whole mind tenses at that. I feel a layer of boiling anger, a cloud of disjointed worry. The hand on my waist curls into a fist. Then the emotion vanishes, shut behind an invisible door, before I can dig even deeper into it and see what’s at the center.
“We used to say people were missing, not dead. Growing up, I refused to believe anyone was gone if I didn’t see them die myself. I just watched the ocean, and waited to see if they’d return.”
“I know how that feels,” I tell him quietly.
“I stopped feeling it. For a while. After my brother’s ship ‘went missing.’ It just felt so childish, hoping like that, when nobody ever came back. It was better to believe they were dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I can’t imagine what that feels like, having never had a sibling. And I don’t want to reach into his head and find out.
“So when I saw you, I was focused on the battle, and figuring out who you were. But afterwards…? I began to wonder how you got there. And whether anybody else might be there, too, brainwashed or Enchanted.”
“Like your brother.”
“Like my brother,” Roiven agrees. And then, speaking slowly: “or like someone bonded to the kraken, since he seemed to vanish when the last ship did, when we stopped sailing. Either the kraken died, or he bonded someone who couldn’t reach us. So until you…”
“You thought he was dead,” I supply. “Because you didn’t think he could be bonded to somebody in the Empire, until you realized what I was, and that I was a knight, which meant there could be others too.”
Roiven’s arm tightens around me.
“Exactly. I had nightmares thinking about all the witches I could have killed, taking down those ships. I started sneaking onto them, trying to find the people we’d lost. Trying to find the kraken’s bonded.”
“You snuck onto a Hellion?”
“Yes.”
“But your eyes. You’re obviously…”
“I cast an illusion.”
“You can disguise yourself? That seems hard.”
“I only needed to do the eyes. The rest of me isn’t so remarkable.”
He’s got to be joking. I can’t imagine Roiven blending in on an imperial warship. Maybe he didn’t last more than a minute before they caught him. If he were dressed in a black and gold imperial sailor’s uniform, his long hair tied sharply back and ribboned… orange ribbons, I think. Or maybe blue.
It feels wrong to picture that. And it definitely shouldn’t turn me on.
“Humbleness doesn’t suit you,” I decide. “So you met me, thought you killed me, and then were desperately searching for… me, without knowing it was me?”
“Sort of lucky I got dragged before you in chains, when you think about it,” Roiven says. “Savasaeirn says she wants to digest. Think you could sleep?”
Is all of this, every bit of kindness he’s shown me since the kraken rose out of the sea, just an attempt to get me to fight for him?
It’s an unpleasant feeling. I want to believe Roiven doesn't hate me anymore.
But then. I was a knight, a murderer. I killed his friends. I’ve killed his people. I’ve destroyed villages and hunted dragons and drained Enchanted.
I couldn’t really blame him, if that was all he wanted from me. If he was willing to play any game to make it happen.
“Yes,” I answer, far too late. “I could sleep.”
We land, and I don’t ask Roiven to tell me whether he still hates me or not, because I know he can’t lie. And there are some truths I'm just not ready to stomach.