Dragon Rose(54)

He stood quietly beside me, hand still in mine as he gazed over the now-barren garden. I wondered what he was thinking.

“So is it all true?” I asked.

“Is what true?”

“The story you read to me last night, about the Althuri. Did those who practiced magic truly have a strain of blood in them that wasn’t quite human?”

“So it is claimed.” He let go of my hand and made rather a show of pulling his cloak more closely to him. “Certainly I would like to believe that the perpetrator of my particular curse was something less than human.”

So many questions I wanted to ask. Since I had had very little luck along those lines, I held my tongue, thinking on the best way to approach this. “Did mages do a lot of that? Cursing people, I mean.”

“If it suited them, or if they were paid well enough to do it. Some claimed to take the high road and not indulge in such dark matters. However, it seemed in the end most of them would cast those sorts of black spells, if it suited them or enough money changed hands.”

“And—and this mage,” I ventured, trying to ignore the chill seeping up through my boots. “Did he cast the curse of his own volition, or was he paid to do it?”

“Oh, entirely of his own volition.” The words sounded brittle enough to break off and shatter in the icy wintry air.

“He must have been very angry with you.”

“I suppose he was.”

“Why?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

I was actually surprised he’d told me as much as he had. Getting him to divulge the reason for the casting of the curse was expecting a bit much. Still, I now knew one thing. Whatever had happened, whatever had gone wrong, it sounded personal somehow.

“We should go in,” he said abruptly. “It’s beginning to snow again. See?” And he lifted one black-clad hand to catch some of the falling flakes, which melted as soon as they touched the leather covering his palm.

“It’s not that bad yet. I like the snow.”

“It can be lovely…if one is safely watching from indoors. And you are only just risen from your sickbed.”

“It wasn’t that kind of sickness,” I pointed out. “I never had a fever. The cold should not matter so much. Besides, surely you don’t really feel the cold. Your hands are always so warm.”

“Oh, I can feel it. It may not affect me the same way it affects you, but that is not to say that I am entirely comfortable in it.”

I gazed up at him, at the tall figure wrapped in its heavy robes. The wind had begun to pick up, and despite my protestations otherwise, I knew I could not stay out here much longer. Not unless I had another layer of clothing to shelter me from the bitter cold.

“Two may be warmer than one,” I said, and before I could lose my nerve I went to him, burrowing into his robes so they spread around me. The wool of his doublet was warm and slightly scratchy against my cheek as I laid my head against his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist.

His breath went in and he went still, so still I wouldn’t have known he still breathed, save for the beating of the heart within his breast. And then his arms were around me, holding me close, as I let the heat from his body warm me through, making it seem as if I stood outside on a hot summer day, and not a raw snowy morning in mid-Novedre.

“Rhianne…”

I didn’t know if he’d said my name aloud or whether I’d just imagined it, so soft were those syllables as they were whispered into the icy air. Perhaps I should have said something as well, but for the moment I only wanted to stay within the protective circle of his arms, only let his warmth keep me safe from the storm. But then I realized how soaking wet my feet were, how the combined weight of both our cloaks still wasn’t enough to keep out every piercing draft.

Very gently, he released his hold on me and stepped back. “We must go in. You should not be out in this.”

Away from the heat of his body, I could feel every searching gust of wind, every sharp prickle as the snowflakes blew past the hood of my cloak and bit my exposed skin. “Y-you may be right,” I stammered.

I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, but I could not make out the words. He reached for me again. This time, though, he did not draw me against him, but rather lifted me up so my feet were safely out of the ever-drifting snow. Bearing me thus, he carried me through the garden and on into the shelter of the castle.

Something in his strength shocked me. For whatever reason, I had not thought to equate his unnatural form with unnatural might, but he lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and while I was slender enough, I was also tall and well built, and certainly should have constituted something of a burden to a man of normal strength. But Theran was certainly not normal…and most would not call him a man.

He set me down once we were inside and closed the door to the garden behind us. “Better?”

I nodded, although it was scarcely warmer inside than it had been outside. “I s-suppose that is enough fresh air for now.”

“I believe so…and I also believe Sar will not be happy when she learns how thoroughly you’ve been chilled. Look,” he added, and pointed at the hem of my gown, which was sodden with snow. My boots likewise had been soaked through. “You must go upstairs and warm yourself at once.”

What I really wanted was to go up to his chambers, to warm myself in front of his fire. But although I had been bold enough to put my arms around him, I didn’t quite have the courage yet to make such a suggestion.