34. Avoidable Things #2
Arvos looks at me in smug satisfaction, and I know intuitively that whatever he told Tage prompted his harsh dismissal.
I nod as though it’s a natural suggestion and not a stinging rejection.
I’d only known Tage for a short time, after all.
What can I expect of him? That I hold a place in his life, a place above others he’s known for years?
He’s not a guest here. That designation is mine alone.
Apparently, what he and I do in the privacy of his furs does not translate into anything outside of the den.
That should make leaving easier . . . as long as I remember that.
Before he can read the insensible hurt in my expression, I whirl around.
I make it only a few steps, however. Turning the corner of the tunnel, I hesitate. The last thing I want is to spill out into the main room for Danhy or Merik or Viggo to observe the stupidly wounded expression on my face.
I stop, collapsing back against the cold stone wall, taking a few moments to gain my composure. I draw a deep breath, filling my lungs, willing away my discomfort.
I can still hear the low rumble of their voices where I stand out of sight. Now that I’m gone, they make no effort to speak discreetly.
“What are you doing, Tage?” Arvos demands. “I wake up to this? Cyphus dead?”
“He challenged me to profa. I had no choice.”
“And why did it come to that?” Tage does not answer. A long beat of significant silence follows. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? The woman.” He grunts out a sound that might have been an expletive. “She is not one of us, Tage.” There was a directive, a definite call to action in those words.
“I told you I will not kill her for simply being human. That is not crime enough for her to deserve death. I am not Kaldr. If I wanted to be like him, I never would have set out on my own. If you object to the way I’m leading this pride, perhaps you need to decide if you want to remain.”
“This pride is yours. I take no issue with that.” Exasperation tinges his voice.
“No? Then why are we having this conversation about her? It’s beginning to feel redundant.”
“Tage, what are your intentions? She walks freely within the cave like she is one of us. She eats with us. What’s next? Will she be taking a watch? A patrol? Will you be bonding with her . . . this human?”
My heart beats loud in my ears. I press my fingers into the damp wall of the tunnel, the nail on my right index finger bending, cracking under the pressure.
Tage finally speaks. “I told you—”
“Yes, yes, no killing her. I understand that. But you’ve explained nothing more. What is the plan for her?”
“I was not aware I needed to explain my actions and motives.”
“We are a pride. The actions of one affect all. You’ve taught us that.”
I bristle, adjusting my weight from foot to foot. It was excruciating—being discussed as though I’m an object of no value. Not anyone of free will. A voice that does not matter.
“She will stay here. Help out with chores.”
Even to my ears, this rings weakly.
“Permanently?” Arvos demands.
Silence meets Arvos’s question and I long to see Tage’s face, to gauge his expression. My body leans forward, waiting in anticipation for his eventual response.
“Indefinitely.”
“Indefinitely,” Arvos echoes with a ring of dissatisfaction.
“Yes.”
“So . . . she is to be our servant indefinitely.”
“She is not your anything,” Tage is quick to rebut.
“Oh, but she is yours.”
“Watch yourself,” Tage warns.
Arvos does not. He presses on. “Tell me, does she still sleep on the bench by the firepit? Or have you moved her into her own den? There’s a vacancy, after all.”
My face burns. Not my own den. Tage’s den.
Tage does not reply to the pointed question. His silence is not overlooked.
“Where does she sleep now?” he pushes.
At last, Tage replies evenly, “My den.”
Arvos makes a choking sound. “You keep her in your den? In your furs?”
Tage’s voice is void of all patience as he replies, “Wiser than leaving her unprotected out in the open.”
“Come now, Tage,” Arvos grunts out. “Be honest with yourself. You’re keeping her in your den for no other reason than that you want her to be there.”
I wait, expecting to hear Tage refute this with a denial. There is no sound from him, though, and his continued silence rings in my ears.
Arvos continues. “I understand the compulsion, of course. There are so few of our kind . . . and she has her charms, but it won’t work. You and she won’t work, Tage. You need a proper mate. As do we all. We need to grow this pride for our survival, and we will. But you can’t do that with her.”
I strain, holding my breathing, hoping . . . well, I’m not sure what I’m hoping for, but when I finally hear Tage speak, when I finally hear his words, they are not what I expect.
“This is a new world we find ourselves in, Arvos. We are making up the rules. We are not the same dragons of old. We’re this. Neither fully human nor dragon. Who is to say what will or won’t work?”
A bewildering mixture of relief and jubilation zips through me until Arvos’s voice lashes out in a fiery rush.
“I say. Heed me . . . Tage, my friend. She won’t work here.
She is too different. She isn’t one of us.
She’ll never fit.” I flinch at the blunt words, and then he drives home his point with, “She is dangerous.”
Ah. This.
I am dangerous. Dangerous. The fear-inducing word every tyrant has ever used to vanquish the group they wish to suppress . . . to break them into bits and pieces and dust beneath their boots.
Dangerous. Me. I almost laugh at the absurdity.
The power dynamic in this scenario decidedly puts me at the bottom, beneath a band of terrifying dragons with deadly teeth, beneath a generations-long war that could fill an ocean with blood, beneath all things magic, but the contention is nothing new.
I am different, and different things are to be feared and named Dangerous.
“Settle yourself, Arvos. Eventually she will go back to her own kind.”
And that stings for reasons it shouldn’t, especially considering I will be leaving tomorrow.
“Letting her go puts us all at risk.” The implication is clear. Arvos does not believe I can remain here . . . and yet I can’t be released.
Can’t stay. Can’t go. A deep, viscous breath chokes in my throat. Only death is left.
“We live in perilous times,” Tage says dismissively. “If it isn’t the skelm, it’s invading soldiers or vicious harpies, or spellcasting witches . . . or any number of creatures. Every moment of our lives is risk. It’s unavoidable.”
“Except she is avoidable,” Arvos argues.
“Not to me she isn’t.”
I inhale sharply, moving trembling fingers to my lips.
“I’ve followed you for years, not just because you’re the fastest and the strongest among us but because you’re the smartest. Now though .
. . you’re thinking with something other than your head.
Move her out of your den, Tage. Take a mate.
Grow this pride. That is right. Danhy has been waiting for you to—”
“I don’t want to bond with Danhy. You or Viggo would be better suited to her.”
“She doesn’t want us,” Arvos speaks up. “She wants you.”
“She may change her mind in time . . . once she realizes I am not changing mine,” Tage retorts.
There’s a scuffing sound, like a boot sliding on the ground, and I panic, convinced one of them is heading around the corner toward me.
Desperate not to be caught eavesdropping, I flee down the tunnel.
No one is waiting in the great room. None of the others are around, and I’m grateful. I’m in no mood to confront any of them.
I take refuge in Tage’s den and wait for him, my heart rate steadying, his words playing over and over through my mind. Not to me she isn’t.
I ready for bed, using the fresh water in the basin and changing into one of Tage’s clean tunics that hangs well past my knees. I use his jewel-handled brush, dragging it through my hair with hands that still have a slight shake to them.
The way he stood up for me against his own . . . I have a flash of him battling for life with Cyphus, and something sour winds through me. He could have died.
It makes the idea of leaving this place, him, all the more imperative. And painful.
Me here. With him. It only makes his life harder.
None of the others want me here, and he stands to lose everything if I remain.
And yet . . .
No one ever stood up for me the way he did. Or made me feel special and wanted and, most importantly, not so alone.
The pelt hanging over the threshold parts and he steps inside, the space instantly smaller with his body filling it.
He idly caresses the large garnet stone jutting from the wall near the doorway as he passes inside the den.
I’ve seen him do this before. His wide palm covers it for a long beat, and then he finishes with a final stroke of his fingers.
An unthinking move on his part, and I recall his words about gems sustaining dragons and I wonder if the simple touch revitalizes him.
I stand at attention, my heart a wild bird in my chest, looking for a way out.
He stills, the pelt swishing into place behind him. “You’re still awake.”
“I am,” I agree, also stating the obvious. I lower the brush to the table, setting it down. I nervously smooth shaking fingers over the ornate handle.