Eleven #2
“Then I’m sure you will want to see the others, Melle especially has been asking about you. Same with Tofa and the stable boy. Calian also.”
“Rohan…”
I run my hand down my face. “Then we can go to the dragons and—”
Her palm, gently, almost hesitantly, touches my back, and my hands land flat on the table, head dipping to my chest.
“I would love a bath,” she says quietly, and I breathe deeply, eyes closed.
Don’t look at her and then you won’t want to pick her up and hold her forever.
Don’t look at her and then you won’t see the sadness in her eyes, how she hates you now.
Don’t look at her and then you won’t fall to your knees like the pathetic man you are and beg for forgiveness that you don’t deserve.
“Rohan?”
She doesn’t trust you anymore Rohan, don’t make it worse.
I clear my throat. “Yeah?”
“Will you look at me?”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I turn around, of course I do, because it’s what she wants, and I can’t refuse her.
My eyes meet hers, almost flinching at what I see within those green depths. I hold myself still with control that is very quickly slipping.
She frowns.
“Your fa— the king, pushed my head against a desk. That’s probably why my cheek is red.”
I don’t move for a moment, don’t breathe as her words slowly reach me, settle somewhere in my body, feeding the swirling rage within.
“I see,” I grit out slowly, my body trembling, trying not to explode in front of her.
“I… I should have said so to begin with.” She averts her eyes. “I was being silly.”
“You’re not being silly, you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine, it didn’t hurt, not really—”
“No.”
“What?”
I shake my head. “That’s not the hurt I’m talking about.”
“Then what hurt?”
I move my hand and hover it over her chest.
“The hurt in here.”
She blinks up at me, tears forming before she blinks them away.
“It does hurt,” she whispers. “Very much.”
My jaw ticks and I nod, resigned, wondering if I can punch myself in the face hard enough.
“But I would like… I would like for you to try and make it better.”
“You would?” I rasp, unable to stop myself from stepping closer, heart pounding.
She nods. “I think you’re the only one who can make it better.”
My fingers twitch with the need to grab her. “It’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want.”
I lower my head to hers in relief that she’s giving me the opportunity to try, an opportunity I don’t deserve, but I’ll hold on to it and never let go.
Closing my eyes at the feel of her, I breathe her in, revel in this closeness… Then my hands are moving to her waist without my permission, and I wait for her to back away, to tell me to let go, but all she does is release a breathy sigh, and that’s all it takes.
I can’t hold back any more.
I scoop her up, my arms wrapping around her and hold her to me, my face buried in her neck, breathing her in, getting as close as possible.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Alara,” I tell her gruffly, and I feel her tremble.
Fuck, I’m trembling.
“I know,” she murmurs, sniffling, and the sound causes me to hate myself even more for making her cry, for hurting her.
She wraps her arms around my neck and, Gods, the feel of her against me. It’s everything I never knew I wanted until her. Needed.
I move us back to the furs and sit down with her in my lap, trying to think on how to make this better, what I can do to earn her forgiveness, to be someone she deserves, but my thoughts stop when she speaks.
“I have something to tell you.” I pull back, never once letting her go as I scan her face.
“What is it?”
“The king, he has dragons.”
I sit up straighter. “What?!”
“Below the castle, he has dragons, and Rohan…” She shakes her head, lip trembling, and I want to murder whoever made her feel this way. “He has them in cages, and one of them… she’s… he’s hung her by chains and these guards came out… and… and…”
She can’t seem to get any air in.
“Breathe,” I order, running my hands up and down her back soothingly. “Just breathe.” She does, copying my movements, gaze on my chest. “That’s it, good girl.”
She nods, tears trailing down her cheeks and I wipe them away, eventually resting a hand on the back of her neck, squeezing reassuringly.
“The dragon,” she begins when her breathing evens out. “The one hanging by chains, the guards came and they were poking her with a spear in her belly and she… Rohan… She’s producing Nighturn.”
I still. “What?”
“And she’s so sad, Rohan, so angry and in pain, they all are, but her, the largest one, nearly as big as Drogonah, that’s where he’s getting it from. A dragon.”
“Impossible,” I mutter, heart racing, mind spinning.
“Halen said she’s not been producing enough for a long time and it’s up to me to speak with her to make her produce more.”
“That’s why he’s been trying to get an elf. If he doesn’t have Nighturn, he has nothing over the Dragorie, nothing to stop dragons from burning his city to the ground.”
She nods. “But the other younger ones, how does he have them?”
I close my eyes briefly when realization dawns on me. “The eggs. He’s been taking them.”
All this time, I’ve been focusing on finding out who’s been taking the eggs, I never thought to think about what happened to the eggs after.
“They must be from the eggs he’s stolen over the years,” I tell her. “It makes sense.”
“The hanging dragon isn’t young though. Where did he get her from?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, brushing some hair behind her ear. “Tell me everything, start from the beginning.”