Dragonoak (69 page)

I took
the drink and sat next to her, legs crossed.

“It's a
good thing you made it,” she said, hand searching for mine. “You're
going to spend the rest of your time here hearing about this
performance. It'd get tiresome if you were the only one who missed
it.”

“It's
all anyone's been talking about for days. What is it?”

“A
singer, and a famous one, at that. They haven't been to Kyrindval
in some years, and many of the pane would travel dozens of miles to
the fire pit of their home tribe, just for the chance to see them
perform,” Claire explained, bringing her drink unsteadily to her
lips, finger and thumb wrapped tightly around the
handle.

I let go
of her hand, let her drink her fill, and she idly brushed her
fingers against my knuckles as she craned her neck to look around,
trying to find a sign that things were about to begin.

We
weren't left waiting for long. The audience had grown twice the
size in a matter of minutes, and a pane with tattoos in lieu of
hair stood, waving his hands over his head and demanding silence.
The chatter died down to a curious murmur and he said, “Friends!
Little friends! Now, I know we are all waiting for our guest of
honour, but let us welcome them properly with a true
warm-up.”

There
were four separate performances from those native to Kyrindval. A
group of singers, not yet old enough to have horns worth remarking
on, went first, wisely not wanting to be immediately followed by
the main act. I watched with a grin on my face, more entranced by
the energy they put into their performance than their voices
themselves, as sweet as they were. When the last note was sung and
the group bowed, the crowd applauded and cheered as though the
young pane were the sole reason they'd left their cabins that
night.

We
weren't given much of a break between acts. A play, half an hour
from start to finish, was performed next, and aside from a few more
archaic phrases, I understood every word of it. It told the tale of
two tribes exchanging hatchlings, some manner of mistake being
made, and in the final act, it was all resolved in a comical
manner; the pane were laughing, but I didn't pay much
attention.

I found
myself with my knees pulled against my chest, head rested in my
arms so that I could look at Claire. Firelight danced across her
face, shadow taking its place whenever a performing pane darted in
front of the flames, and when Claire glanced my way, I didn't have
to pretend I wasn't staring.

Holding
out an arm, Claire let me nestle up beside her.

“Do you
remember the first time we came here?” she asked between the third
and fourth acts. We'd just watched a poetry recital. It was
something I found a lot more interesting, now that I could soak up
the words, though I'd been distracted by Claire's fingertips idly
running along the shell of my ear.

“Of course I remember,” I said, scrunching up my face when I
smiled too widely. “I'd gone from never leaving my village to being
in a pane tribe in a matter of
months
, and then you had to make
everything even more overwhelming by kissing me. Out of the
blue!”

“It wasn't out of the blue,” Claire said, laughing breathily.
“You'd been
looking
at me for weeks. Trying to make me open up. I sincerely
thought you were expecting it.”

I leant
back, scowling playfully at her. The pane around us were so
involved in their own conversations that the rumble of noise, along
with the close comfort of the wide night sky, gave me an odd sense
of privacy. Everyone was far too excited for the final act. They
wouldn't care to eavesdrop on what we were saying.

“Well, I
wasn't
. No one had ever kissed me before, you know.”

“I
recall,” Claire said, wincing a little. “... and since?”

It took
me a moment to realise what she was asking. Blinking up at her, I
said, “Oh. No. No, I haven't...”

“Really?
Not even in Canth?”

“Really!
Well, I mean. Other than Kouris, of course,” I said, “But that's
different. Why do you sound so surprised?”

Shaking her head in fond exasperation, Claire wrapped both
arms around me, pulling me close. With her forehead against mine,
Claire said, “Rowan, you are kind, smart and gorgeous; I was simply
curious, that's all. I've no doubt you garnered
plenty
of attention in Port
Mahon.”

“Well
,” I said, acting as though I
wasn't well aware of how red my face was, “There was this one time,
when a cat stowed its way to Mahon on a pirate ship and wouldn't
leave me alone for
weeks
. But I think that might've
been because I smelled of fish.”

The fact
that she was wearing an eye-patch did nothing to temper the weight
of her glare. Kissing her nose, I slumped back against her side,
and kept my eyes fixed on the fire pit for entire seconds before
relenting and jumping to my feet.

“Do you
want to go for a walk?” I asked, holding out a hand.

Already
taking hold of her cane and giving herself away, Claire said,
“Aren't you interested in the rest of the performances?”

I
shrugged.

“I came
to see you,” I admitted.

“As did
I,” she said, taking my hand.

The pane
were happy enough to let us weave through the crowd, but the entire
tribe seemed to have gathered and it was slow going as they
shuffled around, creating a path for us. Beyond the fire pit,
Kyrindval was quieter than I'd ever known it to be. The taverns
were empty, as were the cabins, and only street lamps and starlight
lit our way. The sounds of insects, usually drowned out by the
footsteps of pane and chatter drifting out of the windows, chirped
rhythmically from the grass that wasn't all that long, by the
pane's standards.

I clung
to Claire's hand, swinging our arms out of time with our slow
strides.

“It's too bad that we have to leave,” I said, peering over a
fence to get a look at the sleeping goats in someone's garden. “I
almost wish we could go
now
, rather than drag it out. But
when Kidira makes a plan, we all have to follow it. That's about
how it goes, right?”

“We
won't be gone forever,” Claire said, pretending the comment about
Kidira didn't amuse her. “I'm certain we'll return and find that
little has changed.”

I chose
to believe she was right. When Claire said those things, the
thought of there being an end to this all wasn't quite as
impossible as it had once seemed.

I guided
her around to her cabin, wanting to spend time alone with her, but
not wanting to force her to walk further than she could without
paying for it. All the lanterns and candles within had been blown
out, and the closest street lamp was at the end of the road. I put
my arms around her waist, letting my eyes adjust to the dark as I
looked up at her, and she tucked my hair behind my ear, fingertips
coming to rest on the line of my jaw.

Pushing myself onto tiptoes, I kissed her. I curled my
fingers against the back of her shirt and felt my heart
knock-knock-knock
against my ribs. Claire kissed back, not having to grip her
cane as tightly when she could lean into me, and it was perfect,
until it wasn't.

I'd
known Claire's moods to change fast, but never this fast. Her jaw
tensed in the midst of the kiss, and I broke my mouth away, trying
to catch her eye. She shook her head a little, glanced off to the
side, and knowing it was very much a moment in which she needed
space, I stepped back, sorry to have intruded quite so
thoroughly.

“Claire...?” I asked, clasping my hands behind my back.
Stupid, stupid. “Are you alright?”

“Rowan,
I—” Claire said, bringing her fingers up to her own face. “I'm
sorry. I cannot be what you want.”

She
spoke as though the sun had abruptly risen and only she could see
how clear things now were.

“What I
want?” I said, mouth turning dry. “What do I want?”

Claire
opened her mouth, holding out a hand to reach for the fast-fleeing
words she couldn't cling to.

“I...”
she tried again, shoulders rising. “A sense of normalcy,
perhaps.”

“Normalcy?” I hadn't meant to laugh, but it slipped from my
lips. “Claire, look at me. I'm a
necromancer
. I've been chased
halfway across Bosma, I spent months and months pretending to not
be a pirate, I'm half-convinced that this isn't my hand and I have
a... not-dead dragon for a brain-twin? I don't even know at this
point. But how much of that sounds normal to you?”

She
ground her teeth together, dropping her gaze once more.

“I do
not wish to trap you in anything,” she said. “I simply meant
that...”

“I know
what you meant, Claire,” I said, taking her hand before she could
brush her fingers along her scars once again. “Let's just go inside
and talk, alright? Please?”

She
relented, if only because standing was exhausting.

I held
out a glowing hand in front of me, illuminating the way to Claire's
room, and set about lighting the candles as she lowered herself
onto the edge of her bed. She was no longer with me. Her thoughts
were scattered to corners claimed by a darkness a hundred candles
and my glow wouldn't be able to banish, and she sat, slumped
forward, mind full of what she believed she'd become.

I
climbed the steps leading to her bed and stood between her knees,
fingers ghosting across her cheeks, settling on the line of her jaw
until she found it within herself to look up. Carefully pulling her
eye-patch back and dropping it on the bed next to her, I met her
gaze and closed my eyes as all the things I'd wanted to say to her
when I was in Canth surged through me. If not now, when? There was
no saying what awaited us in Thule, and if I could not bring myself
to speak a simple truth when we were as close as we were, as raw as
we were, then I could find a thousand reasons to keep my lips
sealed in the future.

“I love
you, Claire,” I said softly, warmth and fear alike pooling in my
chest.

And
Claire, for all her thoughts had done to turn her against me,
didn't hesitate for a moment. Hands on my shoulders, she pulled me
close but didn't kiss me.

“I love
you too, Rowan,” she said, closing her eyes. “Of course I
do.”

She
slipped her arms around my shoulders and I knelt on the edge of the
bed, letting myself be pulled over her. It took a little fumbling,
but I laid on my side, head rested on her pillow, mirroring her
position. I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly.

I'd said
the words and nothing had changed. It wasn't all abruptly better,
but it gave me the push I needed to find the right
words.

“This isn't going to be easy, is it?” I murmured, face inches
from hers. “Sometimes I realise how close we are, how close
you
could
be –
how close
anyone
could be – and it scares me. I'm afraid of what could've
happened while I wasn't on guard, and I don't want anyone near me.
Because if they touch me, even if they don't do anything, I'll just
be thrown back to... you know.

“And I
know it hasn't been long. Not really. But it makes me wonder if
I'll ever go a day without thinking about it. Without gripping my
wrist like I'm trying to break it.”

Claire
let me say my piece, and her expression didn't twist into something
dark as the truth tumbled out of me. There wasn't even pity there;
just a quiet understanding that weighed heavily upon me to
see.

“I want to drink, Rowan. Even now, even with you. I could
tremble with it, most days,” she murmured. “I spend
hours
doing what I can
to convince myself that a glass – half a glass – would do me no
harm. That it would help me focus, making things easier in the long
run. I make the most elaborate plans to procure it, to go about it
in secret. So none of this is easy, no.”

“But
you're doing better, aren't you?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“You haven't been drinking. The urges will go away, right? Bit by
bit...”

“I'm
doing better. I'm holding on,” Claire said, bringing up a hand to
my face. “Control can be regained, Rowan. Remember
that.”

As
difficult as it was, both to hear and to say, I didn't feel worse
for what passed between us. It wasn't the way I'd imagined the
evening ending, while we were still sat around the fire pit,
laughing and smiling freely, but the truth was far more important
than going to lengths to convince one another that we were both
alright. There were only two options available to us: either we
lost each other over how unfair what had happened to us was, or we
used what we'd been reduced to as a foundation, and built up from
there, together.

“Do you
know what I miss the most?” Claire asked. She'd turned onto her
back, hand still clasping mine in the narrow space between us. “I
miss many things. I miss being able to trust my own body. I miss
being able to wash and dress myself. But more than that, I miss
running.