Chapter Eleven: A Pact Among Friends

I learned a lot about Freud during the time we spent with the dragons. He was much stronger, braver and more compassionate than any of us imagined. Ever diplomatic among our new friends – the word, friend, still seemed so strange on our tongues when they referred to the Onyx Dragons – Freud built a bridge that slowly eroded the centuries of distrust, hatred and disgust between the two peoples. For they were a people, those dragon folk – they were far more intelligent than we'd ever imagined and they took care of each other much like we fairies took care of our own kind.

I don't recall how long we stayed in the dragon's nest; it could have been days, weeks, perhaps even months. Eventually our visit culminated in a night that I will never forget.

One evening, Freud took me aside after our dinner and invited me walk alongside a bubbling brook near the nest. Surprised by his sudden gesture towards renewing our friendship, I agreed. Truth be told, I hadn't seen him much since we found him among the dragons. He had become more withdrawn from me and Aran, choosing instead to focus his time and efforts on creating a war plan with Afrien and the dragons.

"How are you doing, Cedes?" Freud asked me. Fireflies lit the path and I marveled at the beauty of these strange bugs. I tried to cup one in my hand, but it flew away at the gentlest touch.

"I'm doin' good," I said, trying not to let my impatience and loneliness show too much. I was getting more and more homesick the longer we stayed here. I missed Mama, the Elders, even Theodora.

"I see," Freud replied, his eyes darkening as he took in my appearance. I wondered what he saw. It had been months since I had been properly groomed and waited upon by one of the ladies-in-waiting. Self-conscious, I swept back an errant lock of white-blonde hair. It got tangled in my fingers. I grimaced in pain as I fought through the knots.

"Don't laugh," I warned him. "It's not funny."

Saying nothing, Freud reached over and smoothed the hair in my fingers. I watched him, mesmerized, as he smoothed the rest of my hair.

"There," he declared quietly after a while. "You're as good as new." He said this with such tenderness that I nearly burst into tears. I couldn't remember the last time someone had combed through my hair lovingly.

Noticing the sudden shift in my mood, he asked, "What's wrong, Cedes?"

"N-Nothing. Everything," I bit back tears in vain. "I miss home. I m-miss Mama, and the Elders and my friends a-and even T-Theodora."

Freud pulled me into his arms. He smelled nice like deep earth combined with spring water and flowers. And he was warm – his heart beat steadily in his chest, a comforting rhythm in a land so strange and new to me, yet old beyond years. I sobbed even harder. It had been a long time since I was held like that, and the memories of a time long ago pushed me even harder to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

"Don't cry, 'Cedes. Don't cry. Everything will be okay soon. We'll get you home and you'll see your mama and all your friends, okay?"

"You're j-just say-saying that," I whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as tears splashed down in big, fat drops on the fabric. "You're never gonna leave with us. I just know it. You'll stay here forever and ever until the end of time, and we'll all be old biddies and die here. Or worse, you'll tell us to go home and I'll never see you again. What will I do then?" I couldn't help but wail at the last sentiment.

Freud cupped the back of my head and stroked my hair gently. I hated him for being so gentle and cold at the same time. Where was the Freud I knew who had a bit of fire in his step and looked at me with bright, warm eyes? He was gone again. In his place was the adult Freud that I had first met – cool, calm and collected. I hated that. Hated him.

As though he could hear my thoughts, he asked, "Do you hate me, Cedes?"

I pulled back, startled, mid-sob. A tear dangled precariously over the edge of my right eye.

Yes, I hate you! I hate you so much for putting me through this! I wanted to say. But for some reason, I couldn't. Instead, I said weakly, "I can't leave you here alone."

Freud's face was inscrutable as he swiped his thumb across my bottom eyelid. The tear landed right on the tip of his thumb.

"I'll never be here alone. I have Afrien and his friends," he replied.

"D-Does that mean me and Aran… we don't matter to you? You don't want us?" It hurt to squeeze those words out.

Freud shook his head. "Of course not, Cedes. That's not what I meant at all. You said you were afraid I would be all alone. Well, I'm not. And after tonight…" he trailed off, his brow creased in deep thought. He looked up at me again, his eyes blazing blue fire. "I'll never be alone again after tonight."

"What's gonna happen tonight?" I whispered hoarsely.

Freud paused, then took one of my hands and began rubbing it between his own. Like he was petting one of his animal friends. Gentle and reassuring. "Remember the pact I told you about? A pact that would allow a dragon and mage to fuse their powers together and become even stronger?"

I nodded, dimly aware that he had said something to that effect a long time ago.

"Well, we've finally figured it out. Afrien and I have been working all day and night. And we've finally found the right symbols and seals and… well, long story short, we're going to try the spell we crafted and see if it works."

My eyes widened. "It's done? It's gonna work?"

Freud looked at me. "I'm not sure. We won't know until we try. Until then…" He squeezed my hand. "I want you to be there, Cedes. When we try the spell. If anything goes wrong…"

I gasped, horrified at the thought that something could go wrong. What happened when spells went wrong? I had never paid much attention to my spell craft lessons, but from what Theodora told me, the worst damage involved fatal wounds and death.

"No!" I screamed. "I won't let you die!" I threw myself around him to prove my point.

Freud took my sudden assault in stride. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around my tiny, shaking body. "I'm not going to die," he said firmly.

"But you said if anything went wrong—"

"—that's if, Cedes. If. And I highly doubt anything will go wrong. We're pretty sure this spell will work. I want you and Aran to be there, though, when history is changed forever."

I paused in my crying to look up at him. I didn't detect any signs of fear or worry in those eyes. Instead I sensed excitement and… joy? Freud was not making any sense to me. Maybe my elfin senses were off.

"You're sure this is gonna work?" I asked.

He nodded, then smiled. "It will be life-changing, and I want you to be there to witness it. We're going to save the world, Cedes. I just know it."

He seemed so cock sure of himself that I didn't deny it. But still, I was uneasy about the whole idea of a new spell that had never been tried before. What if it blew up in his face? What if he lost his pretty blue eyes or his beautiful curly hair the colour of cinnamon or worse—what if he changed into someone completely different and forgot about me and our adventures together and the beautiful unicorn he gave me?

I hugged him tightly again. "Don't change, Freud."

He chuckled, his first real sign of pleasure that I'd seen in a long time, and said over the top of my head, "I won't, Cedes. I promise. It'll be our little pact."

"Forever?"

"Forever."