10. Contrition
Contrition
D inner consisted of a hearty vegetable soup and freshly baked bread. It was a simple life the acolytes led here, but their hospitality was as warm as the fire blazing in the hearth.
I sat at the roughhewn table with Lenn and the three Hersir, eating my meal quietly.
Bera, Inga, and Alfdis bantered amongst themselves, unaware of our true purposes for being here.
Lenn thought it wise—and I’d agreed—to keep the details of our private conversation with the delegation just that.
He sat next to me now in somber silence, unfocused eyes searching his empty bowl.
On the other side of the room, the dragons were steeped in quiet conversation. I studied their movements for any clue that might divulge their secrets. Corbyn, quite unlike himself, seemed agitated, though I couldn’t really fault him after today’s events.
The prince muttered something inaudible, and I watched as Corbyn’s mouth turned downward, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He closed his eyes, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his straight nose. Seemed I wasn’t the only one annoyed with the newcomer.
As for Trygg… It was odd referring to him that way, even in my own mind. I knew next to nothing about him besides the fact that he belonged to the royal house and was the largest dragon I’d ever seen in my life.
A dragon’s size was a direct result of their level of magical power, beyond the sharpness of their senses and their ability to communicate with their minds.
I didn’t know all the intricacies of their powers, but if I was in danger from this man sitting before me, I’d have to find out as much as I could.
I didn’t even know where to start.
At a break in the conversation, the prince turned his head toward me. My cheeks burned but I wasn’t about to look away. Appearing weak in front of him was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Something on your mind, Your Majesty?” he asked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in his chair. A self-assured smile appeared on his face. Corbyn shot him a heated look, his fists clenching atop his thighs.
Well, that was one thing I knew about the dragon prince: away from the watchful gaze of Rensif Lightwing, he was incredibly forward.
Far too much for my liking. Perhaps he thought his royal lineage afforded him a pass to act however he wanted.
To speak to me as one of his peers. I supposed I’d have to set the record straight if he couldn’t figure it out on his own.
Swiftly, I stood, silencing the Hersir and drawing Lenn out of his own chair. Corbyn stood as well, gripping the edge of the table like he might crush it. Trygg looked at all of them in turn but made no move to get up.
“I’ll be retiring now,” I said rigidly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. I looked back at Lenn’s troubled expression. “We’ll speak in the morning.”
He harrumphed quietly and stole a glance past my shoulder. “Rest well, Vor,” he said. “I’m down the hall if you need me.”
I grabbed one of his rough hands and squeezed before stepping away from the table. Corbyn motioned to the prince to follow me out, as he’d yet to vacate his seat. If Corbyn did not put him in his place soon, I certainly would.
They followed me from the dining hall, marching down the corridor in a cacophony of scraping armor and rustling fabric. I winced against the pain in my ears and tried to ignore them. No easy feat, given the cramped nature of the building.
At the far end of the sleeping quarters lay a suite built specifically for the queen and her attendants.
It had been added on a few hundred years ago, so it was much more spacious than the rest of the ancient structure.
I hastened toward the royal quarters, marked by its intricately carved mahogany doors. My heart pounded with each step.
Beyond the doors was a sitting room, comfortably appointed with a plush chair for reading and a small tea table.
My mother had often made treks to the Temple in her youth whenever she needed a break from her duties.
I’d come with her a few times throughout my childhood.
I used to love playing on the grounds and letting Mother read me stories after nightfall.
But the room felt hollow now, lacking the warmth it held in my memories.
The dragonmen followed into the room, Trygg having to duck slightly to avoid hitting his head on the top frame. I started toward the bedchamber, but a nagging sensation in the back of my mind pulled me to a stop.
Trying to say something? I asked the Shadow, shaking my head.
You know what you need to do, she mumbled.
I sighed heavily. That I do. Turning back to face them, I swallowed the lump in my throat. This would not be pleasant, but it needed doing. “Talon Arlbright, may I speak with you a moment?”
He watched me carefully, distrust evident on his face. But I stood firm with my hands clasped at my waist. This couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
Trygg idled off to the side, looking awkwardly between the two of us. “I’ll just... uh?—”
“You’ll take the first sleep shift,” Corbyn cut in, his tone unreadable. “I’m sure you’re tired from your travels.”
“Right.” He faltered, looking around and locating the door leading to the antechamber. “Good night, then. See you in the morning… I suppose.” With a half-hearted attempt at a bow, he crossed the distance in a few long strides and disappeared beyond the door.
The air grew stifling in an instant, and not just from the fire blazing in the hearth.
“In here, if you don’t mind.” I gestured to the bedchamber. Not that a couple of doors would completely conceal our conversation from the dragon prince, but it put my mind slightly more at ease.
“As you wish, my lady,” he replied.
My heart thrummed nervously. Or was that the Shadow? She seemed anxious, circling in her corner.
Steady on, she said.
I swept into the room, stopping at the foot of the four-poster bed and waiting for him to close the door.
When the latch clicked, I turned to face him, wringing my hands slowly.
As if this wasn’t difficult enough, the closeness of the room had us standing less than an arm’s length apart.
I had to tilt back to look in his eyes. Those eyes black as pitch, bearing down on me like some unrelenting statue.
We stood in silence, the only sounds the cadence of our breaths and the crackling in the hearth. He waited for me to begin—for me to say the words that had been gnawing at my bones all day.
I cleared my throat, suddenly tight with emotion. No more stalling.
“I… I owe you an apology,” I began quietly, willing my voice not to tremble. The words hung heavy in the air between us, a lifeline in a raging sea. But I couldn’t be sure he’d even want to take it.
His eyes searched my face for an agonizingly long moment. “Do you?” he asked, sending a jolt through my stomach.
“I do.” I tried my hardest to convey the truth of it, how my guilt ate away at me.
He rolled his shoulders. “For what, my lady?”
I inhaled deeply, worrying at my bottom lip. He wants me to grovel.
Perhaps not. But even so, you shall, the Shadow stated. He spoke the truth, Asvoria—a truth that will help us. And you have wrongly accused him.
We do not know if there is treachery yet to come, from him or any other dragons in our midst.
Yes, she conceded, but until we do know, you had better make amends. We cannot afford to have him as our enemy.
As usual, she was right. I kept having to remind myself the Shadow was an ancient being, one who’d been the intimate confidant to a line of queens. She likely had more political sense than I ever would. But this was not merely about politics.
“I have wronged you, Corbyn Arlbright, and for that I am immeasurably sorry.” The admission did not sting, as I thought it might.
Surprise flashed across his face, but he looked away, clenching and unclenching his jaw.
“Wronged me,” he repeated faintly, a distant fog in his gaze.
When he continued, there was a sharper bite to his tone.
“ Accused me of betraying my oath and sowing doubt in the minds of anyone who would listen. Though I suppose I should be thankful you didn’t have me executed, like your grandmother did my kinsman fifty years ago.
No one in Volmere would have faulted you, I’m sure. ”
I flinched at the venom in his voice, as well as the mention of that unfortunate incident.
Though my grandmother died before I was born, my mother once told me how she’d suffered a sickness of the mind after the unfortunate death of her Consort.
It was the reason we were no longer able to question the AEldinians in the event of suspicion.
Her paranoia resulted in the unjust death of one of her Talons.
But I would never have allowed mine to do the same.
“Do you think so little of me? That I would put you to death without a proper trial?” Although the thought of what he might have done infuriated me, I’d never once considered execution.
When he snapped his gaze back to me, it landed on my chin, lingering there for a long moment.
“I do not think little of you, my lady,” he admitted quietly.
“Perhaps that is why your actions hurt so deeply.” A crack in the stony exterior.
Small, but enough to suck the air from my lungs upon witnessing it.
“Corbyn—”
“Have I not proven my fidelity these last fifteen years?” he continued, his volume rising. “Am I not deserving of your trust?”
“Of course!” I drew in a shaky breath, reeling from my outburst. I didn’t want to allow my temper to interfere, but my heart would not stop racing. “My grief is the only excuse I can offer, paltry though it may be.”