Dragon Rose(62)

And gods, the ache of that, the realization of how I wanted him— the need cramping my very limbs so the paintbrush fell from my nerveless fingers, and I dropped to my knees, doubled over as if someone had hit me in my midsection. I found myself hunched on the rug, body shaking with the sheer misery of it. What could I do, when he seemed so immovable? How could I go on in such a state?

I had no answers, and none came to me. After what might have been a few minutes or a few hours, the spell seemed to pass, and I wearily got to my knees, moving with a stiffness that spoke of someone four times my age.

The painting stared across the room at me, but I saw no compassion in those still, perfect features. Indeed, the slight tilt to his mouth seemed more a mockery, and I turned away, knowing I could not look at it a second longer.

I crossed to the door and slammed it, shutting the painting away.

If only I could do the same thing with my pain.





Chapter Fourteen





I resolved from then on not to dine with Theran in his chambers. In the past we had quarreled and made up, but I saw no resolution to our current impasse. I did not have the steadiness of mind to sit down with him, knowing he could never give me what I wanted. And so I made excuses that sounded even feeble to me when Sar came by to ask if I would care to change for dinner.

Of course she knew the Dragon had circled overhead the night before, and so she also must know that all was far from well between us. To her credit, she did not press me, but said she agreed that I was looking pale, and that perhaps I should go back to bed for a while; she would send up a tray.

I seized on this opportunity for solitude and thanked her, and she went away soon enough. Whether she’d seen this particular little drama play out before, I had no idea. I didn’t want to know.

Perhaps I was the only one foolish enough to develop feelings for the Dragon Lord. Perhaps all those other Brides had seen him for the monster he was. Monster within and without, unfeeling, incapable of love.

No, I could not believe that. I would not. We had had enough interactions that I had seen something of his quickness of wit, his appreciation for beauty, even if he believed he possessed none of his own. It was not his fault that I was not clever enough, or pretty enough, or interesting enough, to engage his affections. Who was I really, but a foolish girl from a simple family, a girl who fancied herself a painter but in actuality had done nothing but disgrace her kin?

Misery seemed the best company for me then, and I let it overtake me, falling into it like a swimmer diving into a deep, cold lake. I did not question it. How could I, when I knew I had done everything wrong since the moment I first stepped foot inside Black’s Keep?





Days passed in a similar fashion, days in which I barely struggled out of bed to eat a few bites before crawling back under the covers like a wounded animal. This was not even like the time when I had spent so many hours asleep; at least then I had some recollection of time passing, although I spent much of it in slumber. Now, however, I seemed to drift in and out, barely aware of the world around me. I thought Melynne came in from time to time, and Sar, but I could hardly be certain. They seemed like something out of a dream, insubstantial as ghosts.

Once I thought I even heard his voice raised in question outside my door, but this time I did not answer, and he did not come in. And then perhaps an exchange with Sar that I only partially overhead, something about it being “far too soon.” What was too soon, I had no idea.

At length, though, I roused myself from my torpor, fighting away the cobwebs within my mind as if they were physical things. My legs felt shaky and my head as light as the time when I was ten and had contracted a rare case of tertian fever. But I had won out against that, and I would not let this…whatever it was…get the better of me.

I tottered out of bed and gazed around my chamber as if I had never seen it before. All seemed more or less in order, and once again my instinct for self-preservation seemed to have won out, for the stranger’s portrait had been safely stashed away in its hiding place. I had no clear recollection of doing so. The important thing was that at least I had remembered enough to put it away.

The water in the basin was almost freezing, but I splashed it on my face anyway, knowing that it would help to shock me into some semblance of alertness. Toothbrush, comb. I could not remember the last time I had used either one of them. They helped to make me feel a little more human, although what I really needed was a hot bath. Soon. I could have Sar call for one after I had eaten.

Stockings, chemise, gown…I struggled with all of it as if I had never dressed myself before, never tied a garter or struggled with the lacings on a dress. This one at least fastened up the sides and not the back, so I could get myself into it without having to ring for help.

Once I was more or less decently attired, I went to the outer chamber and pulled on the bell in the far corner. Usually I did not have to resort to these summons, as Melynne and Sar seemed to know instinctively when I needed assistance. Now, though, they had absented my chamber, almost as if they were fearful of catching some sort of dread disease from me. Perhaps I was ill, although I did not feel particularly unwell. Tired, and the darkness had only retreated to the corners of my mind and not disappeared entirely. But that was not the same thing as being physically sick.

Sar appeared within a few minutes, obviously surprised to see me up and about. She cleared her throat. “What is it you wish, my lady?”