Chapter 19.5 The Heading
Marton's mouth falls a little slack as he realizes that I'm right.
"That is a problem," he agrees. "We need supplies, though, for going into the mountains.
Don't we?"
I think about it.
"No? I don't. I can hunt and keeps myself warm.
But, um, do you...need anything? Warmer clothes?
"
Marton frowns, looking from his clothes to the north, the direction of the mountains, as if he can gauge their climate from here.
"Maybe we should just head in that direction?
See what we come across? If there's, you know, a town or a settlement, we could just..
." He mimes a grabbing and pocketing motion that I don't immediately understand.
Then it occurs to me.
"What?
You mean steal?" Strangely enough, this seems very wrong to me.
I've hurt and killed and terrified the innocent, but I've never stolen anyone's property.
Even the men I killed on the mountain, I buried them with all the things they came with.
Or I burned them with it.
Marton shrugs.
"We don't have any money."
"But we can't just—!
"
"We can do anything we have to do to get our friends back.
"
I frown at that statement, eyes narrowing on him.
"You really care that much? About Cherry?
About Vakh?" I know why I care, but I've always pictured Marton as more helping me out of obligation rather than because he was overburdened with love for the ones we had lost.
Marton's brows draw together in consternation.
"Tarah, I don't think you understand..." He says nothing else for a long moment.
"What?" I prompt him.
He shakes his head, eyes darting away from me.
His tone is wooden when he says, "I've never—I never had friends like all of you before.
Friends who—I just—I know you never really had a lot of friends either," he says quickly.
"But you had Cherry. I never—"
My heart turns into a puddle in my chest, and I step forward, interrupting him.
"I get it. I do. I did think...But I didn't know.
I didn't know if this was about them for you, or just about.
.."
"You?" he whispers.
"Magic," I correct, fighting a wince.
"Obligation. Generosity in general. But you.
..care about them?"
"I care about all of you.
"
All of the sudden, there are hot tears prickling at the backs of my eyes.
I marvel at the surety in his voice, and I feel just a little bit less lost and alone than I have in all this time since losing Cherry.
In all this time since leaving the tower.
Maybe even before then. "Thank you," I whisper, wiping hastily at my eyes, muffling a sniffle with my sleeve at the same time.
"What are you thanking me for?
" There is gentle exasperation in his voice.
"For—for caring. About us.
" I make myself meet his eyes, wanting him to see how important this is to me.
Because he had a choice, unlike any of us.
To be safe and comfortable at home with his own kind.
Vakh and I, monsters that we are, never would have had that choice for long, and Cherry's was taken from her.
But Marton—Marton chose us. He cared, even though he didn't have to.
Even though there's probably no other human in his situation who would have.
Seeing the emotion in my eyes, Marton's expression softens.
Slowly, he lifts his hands, touching my face, and then cradling it between his palms. Fingers on the back of my neck, thumbs stroking over my cheeks.
I think for a moment that he might kiss me, he stares at me so intently.
But I told him not to, before, and he doesn't.
"You're welcome," he says cheekily.
I bark a surprised laugh, and Marton grins.
I bat him away, and he goes easily, laughing. For a moment we just laugh together, and it feels good and light and free as flying.
"You know I care about you too?" I ask him. "That we all do?" Did, it might be, but I shy away from the pain of that thought.
"I know."
I exhale a breath, nodding. "Good."
Marton touches my check again, then winds a lock of my hair lightly around one finger.
He tugs on it, indicating that I should meet his eyes.
I do, nervously, and he smiles at me again, face open and warm.
Full of amusement. I marvel at how he can be so uncertain and shy at times, and at others look at me like that.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, when he continues to stare at me in silence.
"Waiting for you to give me permission to kiss you."
"Marton!" I pull away at once, shoving against his chest with what I mean to be the lightest pressure. The breath oofs out of him, and he stumbles. I grimace. "Sorry—"
He shakes his head, rubbing at his sternum, his expression one of forbearance. "I'm good," he says, sucking in a deep breath.
I feel terrible. "This is it," I tell him. "This is the problem. I'm—I can't. You're human, and wonderful. And breakable. And I'm—"
"Really strong," Marton agrees, laughing.
"It isn't funny."
"It's a little funny," he says, "how before the problem was that you didn't care about me, only Cherry. And now the problem is that I'm wonderful and you don't want to hurt me. I'd say that's—"
I make a snarling noise of frustration.
"—progress," Marton finishes, grinning.
I should have hit him harder.
As we travel that day, we steal a blanket and another thick tunic for Marton off of a clothesline outside a lonely homestead.
There's a smaller tunic hanging up next to it, which looks like it would fit me.
But I assume it see belongs to a smallish male child, and thinking of the boy having a lack of warm clothing come winter makes me resist Marton's suggestion that we take it.
The next day we make camp in an orchard full of apple and pear trees in thick bloom.
There are other fruit trees here too, but whatever fruit they bear, it doesn't seem to be in season yet.
The pears aren't quite ripe, but their hard skins will keep well during travel, so I pluck several of them while Marton fashions the blanket into a makeshift pack.
Traveling the next day in dragon form, I swoop low to capture a canteen that someone has either lost or forgotten, leaning against a rock near a trickling stream.
This is how we provision ourselves for our journey.
We set out again as the sun begins to rise over the hills and fields of Philostia on our right.
We fly far that day, and I begin to see the jutting peaks of the Olion Mountains on the horizon, though Marton says he can't see them yet.
By tomorrow evening, if I fly hard and we take few breaks, we should be at the foot of those mountains.
And then in a few days more, hopefully, we will have located the Trove.
Womack and Albertson's warnings about it ring in my head as we bed down for the night.
We lie a distance apart on our single blanket, with Marton wearing his double layer of tunics to counter the evening chill.
The fire is banked, our bellies full of meat and fruit.
And I begin to worry about what the future holds.
It is the place where dragons and wyverns dwell, those who have given themselves over entirely to their baser instincts.
It is a lair of cruelty and greed. A death sentence for all who are not Dragomira. And ruination of the soul for Dragomira themselves.
It is not a place any should venture if they can avoid it.
But we cannot avoid it. Or, at least, I cannot. But Marton...
I turn over on my side to look at him. His eyes are closed, asleep or near to it.
Would he agree to stay behind as I ventured into the Trove alone?
Could I even find a secure place in the mountains to stash him, where other Dragomira wouldn't sniff him out?
What if I didn't return, and he was left all alone in the wilderness?
None of the thoughts are good.
Really, the best thing to do would be not to take him into the mountains with me at all. But I don't like that thought either.
For a moment, I think of what he said to me just after the wyvern attack.
You wouldn't make it half a mile without me.
I mocked the notion at the time, but I don't know if he's entirely wrong.
He knows things that I do not, sees things in a different way than I can.
If I can't find the Trove easily, I don't know how I would figure it out.
But I'll bet Marton would have ideas.
He always has an idea.
He's clever and quick and full of bookish facts.
So I do need him, in order to find Cherry.
But...is his safety an acceptable exchange for hers?
Once upon a time, the answer would have been an automatic and emphatic yes.
But things are not so simple anymore.
I suppose my greedy dragon heart that once coveted and hoarded a single thing has now expanded to encompass another.
I know it in the snarling, desperate turn my thoughts take when I imagine Marton in danger.
Or, more selfish than that, when I picture leaving him behind.
He's mine now, the worst and hungriest parts of myself want to say.
The better parts of me say no. Do not do that to him.
Do not make him yours, and take him away from all possibility of safety and security forever.
It's different with Cherry.
A princess will always be in danger, and I could be her lifelong bodyguard without hurting her in anyway, if the king will let me.
But with Marton... Being with me would mean ruin for him.
We would not have a palace to hide behind, if I chose him.
We would be alone and hiding, always. And if I made one wrong move with him, lost my temper, or made some other mistake.
..
He could die. Because he wants to be close to me in a different way than Cherry does.
Besides which, I don't know if I could choose him in the first place.
Not if it meant leaving Cherry behind.
And does it even matter what I want, when what I am is in the way?
With distressed thoughts like these filling my head to the brim, I drift off into a disquieted sleep.