I had stayed in my chair in front of the fire all night after crying myself to sleep. I didn't know where Murtagh had put Wenneveria, so I didn't even have her comfort, just myself and the replay of the night's events. Why did he go away? I asked myself over and over again. I fell asleep wondering.
A soft clatter woke me. I started awake in my chair and blinked rapidly. It was the time before sunrise when the horizon looked gray. Murtagh was there, holding armor in both hands.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"So this is it?" I asked, looking at the armor to avoid his face. "The war."
"The elves are only a few miles away," Murtagh said. "I've got to go."
"Of course you do," I said, a bit bitterly.
He didn't move.
"Well?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Go on, then, if you're going."
"You won't do it," he said, and wonder clouded his tone.
"Do what?" I asked, caught off guard.
"Order me to stay," he said. "You could. You know my true name."
"I believe you should have a choice," I whispered.
"That's what you're about, isn't it?" he asked, putting the armor down. "Choices, changing."
He walked over to me, and I didn't move. Come on, please… I begged inwardly. Why can't you see how easy it could be?
"I'll come back," he said. "Don't worry."
That wasn't what I wanted to hear.
"Aeneid…" he whispered, running a finger along my jaw, which in turn sent a shiver down my spine. Without warning, he inclined his head and captured my lips in a sweet, soft kiss. My eyelids fluttered closed by themselves and I sighed at just how beautiful this was.
It was over sooner that I would have liked. Murtagh said. "I promise I'll come back," picked up his armor, and walked out the door.
My fingers touched my lips as my eyes followed him. It hadn't been what I was expecting, but I hung onto the promise because it was better than nothing. And I couldn't imagine not kissing Murtagh again.
Thorn was silent as Murtagh saddled him and bound on his armor. There would be blood, and fire, and death, and they would be the cause.
He did not like what happened to them when they fought.
How long must we go on like this? Thorn asked.
As long as we must, Murtagh said.
Forever, you mean, Thorn said dismally.
Murtagh stilled for a moment, but then resumed his preparations. The two-legger-elves were nearly to the city. They could travel much faster than these two-legger-humans. The army had underestimated them.
The last buckle was done, the last piece of mettle strapped on. Murtagh laid a hand on Thorn's red neck and said, shall we fly, friend?
Yes, Thorn said. But he was not happy.
Someone knocked at the door, and for a second hope leaped in me that maybe it was Murtagh. But I soon squashed it. "Who is it?" I asked.
"My name's Hannah, milady," a girl's voice said.
"Come in," I said, a little confused.
The large door creaked open to reveal a maid with dark hair in a bun at the nape of her neck and dove-gray eyes. "I'm to ask, is there anything milady requires?" she said, curtseying.
I shook my head slowly. "Not really. A bath would be nice, though," I said.
"I can draw you a bath," the girl offered. "Would you like warm or cool water?"
"That would be wonderful," I said fervently. "Cool is perfectly fine."
She smiled shyly. "I'll be right back." She closed the door silently.
I ran a hand through my hair and winced. Yes, a bath would be marvelous.
It wasn't long until she was back with a tub and some other maids that toted water up the stairs. They poured the water in and left, but Hannah stayed. "Do you need assistance?" she asked, setting up a bathing screen.
"No, thank you," I said.
"I can find you some clean clothes, if you like," she offered helpfully.
"Really?" I asked. "Thank you."
"My pleasure, milady," she said curtseying again as she disappeared out the door. I wondered at her eagerness to help as I stripped and got into the tub of water. After scrubbing myself all over with soap, I attacked my hair and got rid of all the oil and dirt from the days on the road. I only got out when I was squeaky clean, and wrapped a towel around myself. Peeking around the screen, I saw that there was Hannah, holding a simple brown dress.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, "This was all I could find –"
"No, it's fine," I told her. "I don't need any help getting dressed." She handed it to me and I quickly dressed behind the screen. It fit well enough, though it was a bit short in the sleeves –my wrists stuck out –but that was all right.
"Hannah, why're you doing all of this for me?" I asked as I came out behind the screen.
She became very still for a moment and then asked in a rush, "Is it true, milady, that the elves are nearly upon us?"
"Yes," I said, a little confused.
"Do they really steal children?" She asked, frightened. "And look like animals, and all the horrible things the soldiers say?"
"I don't think so," I said, slightly shocked. From my ancestor's journals, elves were for the most part, peaceful, unless something roused them. They were odd and different, but not… monsters. "I've never heard them described that way."
She seemed to relax a little, but not much.
"Is there something else wrong?" I asked.
"No, no, of course not, milady," she said hurriedly. "Will… there be anything else?"
I correctly translated this as Yes, very wrong; please let me stay. I tilted my head to the side. "Am I correct in assuming I'm not allowed to leave?"
She hesitated, and then nodded, embarrassed.
"Well, if you don't have too much to do, could you keep me company?" I asked hopefully. I hadn't talked to a girl in weeks.
She smiled widely. "Oh, milady, I would be happy to."
I smiled back. Plenty of time to find out what she really wanted after a chat.
Thorn peeled his lip back and tasted the air. Metal-stickers and flying-pointed-sticks and other such weapons were being primed to enter the battle. His ears could hear the steady tramp of feet from afar, so enhanced they were. His tail twitched with nervous anticipation and fear. He could feel it, the battle rage that rose up to take control of his mind when they fought. It lingered like a predator would linger in wait for a wounded animal to fall. But Thorn was not a wounded animal and he would not be that thing.
Opening his wings, he gave a powerful flap that propelled himself and Murtagh into the air ahead of the army, winging his way to battle.
He felt foreboding. If he let that thing take him over, something awful would happen. He could feel it in his bones.
And dragon bones were very good predictors of the future.