Chapter 3.5 The Plan
I clench my fingers tight, willing the claws away, back under my skin. They go, and for a moment we are just like two humans sitting here. A boy and a girl under the stars together. A picnic. A campfire. And impossible, senseless daydream.
"I should go to bed." I tense to rise.
"Wait," Marton says, almost desperately.
I wait, not knowing why or what I hope will happen.
"I want to help you," Marton says. "With the king.
With whatever you need. I have...ideas."
"Ideas?
"
Marton nods. "I think.
.. Well, the king wants a dragon for his daughter's husband.
That's his true goal. We think. And to keep the whole thing a secret.
That's why he's concocted this scenario.
" He waves a hand. "That's why he's made you the monster.
" I flinch, and Marton rushes on, "But if we could find some other way to give him what he wants—if Shireen is alright with it, of course—then there's no need for you to come to harm.
What if we could find a dragon, a male dragon, that could continue the Ithymian line of protectorkin?
What if we found Shireen a husband? Then you wouldn't have to die, and the princess could return home.
" He says this all in a hurried way, his eyes anxious as he waits for my reaction.
I run a finger across my lower lip in thought.
It is good idea. The best solution I can imagine, for surviving all of this.
Even if it does involve giving the king exactly what he wants, which I don't care to do.
I nod, and Marton's expression is relieved.
"But how would we do that?"
Marton blows out a breath.
"There are many legends throughout the land.
Many tales of dragons that no one believes in.
But I've made it my life's work to collect them.
"
"But you've never journeyed to find out if they were true?
"
His mouth curves into a half smile that makes something inside me lurch.
"No. Yours was the most likely sounding tale, with the most history to support it.
I thought if there was any chance of real magic in the world, I would find it here.
"
"But you thought I'd be the princess.
"
"Well—" Marton stammers.
I wave him off, my mind heading down a new avenue.
"You thought I would be the princess," it dawns on me, "because the line of protectorkin is meant to be genetic.
It's what the king is banking on. By as far as I know both my parents were human.
" I look at him in worry. If being a dragon isn't genetic, but caused by something else, then all of this is for nothing.
"As far as you know?
" Marton repeats.
"I—" I falter.
"Well, I never knew my father. I was raised by my mother, a no-nonsense washerwoman who didn't at all know what to make of having a dragon for a daughter.
" The memory almost makes me smile, but it fades.
My mother sent me off with the king's men almost eagerly, happy to have the trouble in another's hands for a time.
I never doubted that I would see her again, and soon.
But that was so long ago now. Does she even still live? Does she miss me?
"So your father could have been a dragon," Marton concludes, unaware of my new melancholy train of thought.
"I...suppose."
Marton is frowning now, in deliberation.
"It was part of the old legends of Ithyma," he says after a beat, "and other lands, too, that being protectorkin is what gave the kings and queens their divine right to rule.
" Marton's eyes search my face, unhappy.
"It could be... It could be another reason why the king wants you dead.
" He winces. "Because alive you are a threat to his family's reign. "
I just sigh, my head too full already of all that is complicated and bad about this situation.
"No one's making me queen any time soon.
Nor mistaking me for a princess." Now I do smile.
Marton smiles back automatically, and a new thought occurs to me.
"But when you realized that I wasn't her—the princess—and that she was here with me, you must have thought.
.." I shake my head. "What did you think?
How did you suppose the two of us came to be here together? "
Marton eyes me hesitantly. "Well...There were the rumors, so of course I thought you were holding her captive." He blushes.
"And?" I ask warily.
He fidgets. "Well, there is one part of the story that's gone around.
..that I didn't mention before. Most of the stories assume that you are a male dragon.
" He looks embarrassed, eyes on the ground.
"They say this fearsome beast took one look at the beautiful princess and fell in love with her, and spirited her away to his lair.
It's ridiculous, of course, assuming you were a full dragon and not a dragon shifter.
An actual beast would be more interested in having a princess for dinner than having her.
.. Anyway," he shifts, "when I realized you were a girl, a shifter, I guess I assumed you were. ..in love with the princess yourself."
The thought makes me laugh aloud, and Marton's eyes flash to my face. I laugh again, imagining it. Me, in love with Cherry at first sight. Me, in love with her so hopelessly all this time that I wouldn't let anyone near her.
She's beautiful, sure enough, and there are plenty of other good things about her. But it takes a long acquaintance with the princess to get to the point where you don't want to strangle her every five minutes. As it is now, I don't get the urge to strangle her above once every day.
There were times when I thought I'd pull my hair out if I had to spend another moment in her company. And I know she felt the same about me.
From about age nine to age twelve, she was unbearable.
Imperious and demanding as any fine, rich lady with a bustling collection of staff.
Never mind that we had nothing and I was only one teenage dragon shifter.
She was always disappointed when I couldn't give her what she wanted, and that disappointment showed itself through childish sneers and temper tantrums.
But we learned each other in time, grew accustomed to our opposing personalities as well as the various deprivations of our situation.
And that situation which had at first forced us together so incompatibly gradually forged us into complementary shapes, like puzzle pieces. Now, she's like a difficult sort of sister who I couldn't very well imagine my life without.
"No," I sigh. "Definitely not in love with her."
"Well, that's good," says Marton immediately. I glance at him, and his eyes widen in alarm. "Not good—I didn't mean—not that there would be anything wrong if you were—I only—that is—"
I interrupt him by laughing again, and his face relaxes in relief. He winces. "I'm sorry..."
"What on earth are you apologizing for?"
He shrugs. "Anything. Everything. I just—I really don't want to offend you."
"Because I'm a dragon?" I guess unhappily. Because I could hurt you?
"No." Marton ducks his head. "Because I—I want to be your friend."
That gives me pause. My friend. I don't know that I've ever had a friend. Not in a normal way. Just Cherry, and she didn't have much of a choice. "I don't...know if that's a good idea."
Marton nods, looking downcast.
"Not because I don't want to be your friend," I find myself hurrying to say, grimacing. "It's just...I'm not a good kind of friend to have. I'm..."
Marton waits, not filling in the silence like I half hoped he would. What am I trying to say? I'm vicious and awful? I'm dangerous? I'm full of complication and peril?
"I don't know how to be a normal kind of friend," I finally admit.
That makes Marton grin, wide and bright. "That's okay," he practically laughs. "I've had normal friends, and they weren't so great. I reckon I'll settle for a magical friend."
"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."
He ignores me. "So, friend, we'll set out tomorrow? On our quest to find a dragon husband for your princess?"
I sigh. "I'll have to talk to Cherry first. Hers will be the deciding vote, since this is her future we're talking about."
"It's your future too. It's your life in the balance."
"It's her life," I point out. "Her future husband."
Marton doesn't look satisfied, but he lets the subject drop.
"I'll take the night to think about all the dragon legends I know, especially the more recent tales.
I'll try to figure out which ones seem the most likely to lead to something real, and also the best path to take to hunt them all down.
" With a vacant look, he begins digging in his satchel.
He pulls out a map, unfolding it in his lap, and I peer over to see it's not just a map of Ithyma, but a map of the entire surrounding area.
There's Philostia, beyond our western border.
Olio and the mountains to the north. To the southwest, Umrahs and the deserts.
To the southeast, Rohus and the salty sea.
All around, this map shows the lands beyond Ithyma, lands I have never visited or even seen set down on paper like this.
I'm spellbound by the sight, until Marton pulls out a piece of graphite pencil and starts marking on it.
I make an outraged sound, and his eyes flash up to me in startlement.
"You'll ruin it!" I cry.
Marton's mouth opens and closes. "But," he splutters, eyes flicking down to the parchment.
"It's just a map—and not even a very good one.
.." he trails off, looking at me with some new and inexplicably softness.
"Have you...never seen a map before?" The question is asked so gently that I sit back in embarrassment.
"Of course I've seen a map." I cross my arms defensively. "Just never one...like that."
"Like this?" His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he studies the map as if trying to discern what's special about it.
"Yes," I'm annoyed. "It shows the lands beyond Ithyma."
"Oh," he mutters, then cries, "Oh!" with realization. "Yes, it does! You should see the library back at the Academy. We've got whole rooms full of maps, of all different places. And globes, too."
"Globes?" I repeat warily.
He nods with excitement. "Globes. They're like round maps." He makes a motion with his hand, indicating roundness. I roll my eyes, but he continues with eagerness. "They show the layout of the whole world, Tarah."
"The whole...world." Is he messing with me?
"The whole thing! And it's all done to scale. All the nations and the continents and oceans are placed right where they would be if you were looking at the planet from outer space."
From outer space. "You mean...the stars?" I look up at the night sky, squinting as I try to picture it. Looking down on the earth from above and outside of it. It hurts my head to contemplate. "But how could anyone know what that would look like?"
"There is a lot of estimation and guesswork involved," he admits.
"But cartographers take the measurements of different lands, and navigators chart the positions of the stars as they cross the oceans.
And all of this knowledge goes into making a round map of the world that's scaled as perfectly as we can make it to represent what the world would look like if one were looking at it from. ..the stars."
I shake my head at this information, almost overwhelmed. "So people really have been everywhere? To every place in the world? To be able to make this map."
"Well," now Marton's excitement fails a little bit, and he looks thoughtful, "there's some debate about that among scholars. Some believe that we have a complete idea of our world, but others...others claim that there's still more out there waiting to be discovered."
"What... you mean lands where no people have ever been?"
He shrugs. "Some people may have been there, long ago before knowledge was collected like it is now. And some people may be there still."
"So the lands have been discovered, just not by you lot. These scholars."
"Could be," Marton agrees.
I take a deep breath, basking in this revelation, this wider look at the world I've never imagined. It feels as freeing and wonderous as flying, for a moment. And then I remember my own situation, my small place in the world, and I release the breath.
"So in the morning, if Cherry agrees, we'll set out to hunt for your legends?"
Marton nods. "If you'll have me." He smiles.
I look away from that smile, down at the map. "And we'll go to some of these places?" I stretch a finger towards the first pencil mark he made, in the mountain passes of Olio, very near to our current location, but a whole nation away.
"We'll go to all of them, if we have to.
" His tone is quiet, and I gaze up at him.
The dying fire casts his face in flickering relief, and his eyes burn with a kind of intensity I haven't seen before.
And the thought of travelling the world with him for months, for years, forever, it doesn't sound so bad.
I just hope Cherry will agree.