Dragon Rose(35)

“You—you do not sleep?”

At first he did not reply, but only stood there, staring down at the device as if he had never seen it before. Then, “I fear that is a solace deprived me.”

I could not even begin to comprehend what that must be like, not only to be cursed with apparent immortality in his inhuman form, but also to be denied even a few hours of blissful emptiness where he could forget what he was. Even with dreams of a stranger tormenting me, I would not have given up those hours of sleep for anything in the world. And what on earth could I say in reply to such a statement?

Luckily, I was saved from having to think of an answer, for Sar appeared then, two of the maids in tow. They all carried covered dishes in various shapes and sizes, and bustled over to the eating area I had spied earlier. The table had already been set, so it was a simple matter for the three of them to put the serving dishes in their designated places.

After they were done, the two maids scurried back out again, but Sar turned to Theran and inquired, “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

“No, Sar, that will be all.”

She bobbed a curtsey and went out, but not before shooting a curious glance in my direction. Perhaps I was the first Bride to ever request warmer eating conditions. I found that difficult to believe, and resolved to ask her the next time I saw her.

In the meantime, though, the Dragon Lord had extended his hand toward me, indicating that I should come and take my place at the table. I did so, happily noting that it was much warmer up here. A fire roared in the hearth, and heavy curtains at the windows did an excellent job of barring any errant drafts. In this smaller room, the stone walls were covered with tapestries, and I supposed they helped as well.

“Better?” he asked, after I had seated myself.

“Much better. I could almost imagine it’s midsummer again.”

This was, of course, an exaggeration—I would not be wearing such a thick wool gown in Julende, and blazing fires were not of much use in Augeste—but he seemed to agree with my assessment, or at least not argue with it, for he nodded. “An excellent idea, Rhianne. My apologies for not thinking of it sooner.”

“No matter,” I replied airily. “We are here now, are we not?”

“That we are. Soup?”

“Yes, thank you.”

And so we ate, and talked of commonplaces once more, even as my mind churned with the revelation he had made just before Sar arrived, that he did not sleep, and apparently sat up nights working on those lovely little instruments, all to keep himself occupied. I wondered if he removed the gloves as he worked, and what his hands looked like without the dark leather covering them. His lips had felt rough, as if they were covered in scales. Were his hands the same way? Did he have claws?

I must have shivered a little at that thought, for he said, “Are you cold after all? Perhaps the fire is beginning to die down—”

“No, no, not at all,” I told him. “It’s lovely in here, and the food is lovely as well. I must thank Sar for being so accommodating as to bring our dinner up all those additional flights of stairs.”

“It is her duty to accommodate me.”

It was on my lips to tell him that was quite a high-handed thing to say. Then again, he had been lord of this castle for centuries. I supposed he knew nothing other than having people jump at his every command, no matter how whimsical it might be. My tone was somewhat gentler than I had first intended as I said, “Perhaps it is, but I find it no great chore to thank her for doing her duty well. It cannot be an easy thing, to manage a castle.”

The hood tilted to one side as he apparently considered my remark. “No, perhaps it is not. I hadn’t given it much thought, as she always seems to do what needs to be done.”

“So you see, then. Not that my home could compare to Black’s Keep, but there are always so many things to be taken care of—planning and preparing meals, laying the fires, cleaning, washing the linens, washing the dishes, drawing water for baths—”

“And you did all this yourself?” Of course I could not see his face, but his voice sounded distinctly amused.

“A good deal of it, yes, my lord. We had one maidservant to assist us, but my mother always said mischief finds a use for idle hands, and so we were not idle all that often, as you might imagine.”

“It sounds as if your mother might be a good deal like our Sar.”

In truth, she rather was, in her brisk, no-nonsense approach to most matters, and her estimable ability to follow up on all the household details, no matter how minute they might be. In appearance they were not much alike, save perhaps in coloring; my mother still retained some of her youthful beauty, while I guessed Sar had never possessed much even as a young girl. Despite that, though, they had a similar set to their chin whenever they thought I was being difficult. Perhaps that similarity was part of the reason I had adjusted to life in the castle far more quickly than I had any real reason to.

And perhaps, somehow, it was why I now thought of it as home. Easier to think that than to contemplate that it had anything to do with the enigmatic figure seated across from me.

“In some ways,” I said hastily, hoping that he had not noticed my hesitation.

He made no reply to my comment, but only returned his attention to the excellent meat pies that formed the bulk of our dinner that evening. I did so as well, although I found myself glancing past him from time to time so I could catch a glimpse of those lovely little devices in the other room. What else about himself had he kept hidden from me?