Page 44 of Born of Blood and Thorns

"Where is he?" I demanded.

I found Lore in the armory, sharpening a sword. After weeks of avoiding him, he was purposeful in his movements. When my foot hit the room's stone, his ears seemed to almost perk up, and his head tilted ever so slightly my way. Even from a distance, I could have sworn I'd seen his nostrils flare.

I stood in the doorway, unsure if I should turn around and leave him be or do as I had planned to and demand answers that weren't in the journal. Scouring the castle had left me with questions that remained unanswered, and I was tired of being left in the dark. It seemed odd that whenever I turned around, it was here in the armory that I found him as if lost in thought or returning to a familiar place.

"Where were you when the curse took effect? There was obviously a ball going on. Were you not dancing with the others?" I demanded as I stepped forward, tilting my head up. I could feel my hands bunching into the tunic at my side, but I forced them to flex as I waited.

"I was here," he said gruffly, as if he hadn't spoken in the weeks that I'd avoided him, as if he too was punishing himself.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I pleaded, my fingers squeezing tightly into fists as I felt my nails digging into my palms.

Lore opened his mouth as if to speak, his gaze colliding with mine. So much was spoken in one look. So much anguish, so much pain. "The less you know, the safer you are."

"They know." I thrust my arm out toward the doorway. "Why not me?" My body rigidified as I prepared to bury my heels into the stone beneath my feet. I would have my answers.

Suddenly, Lore stood and advanced on me as I stepped back. Another fresh anger ripped through me, and he caged me with his anger. Only the rage began to simmer as I looked into his gaze, the blue flashing between crimson. "You were never meant to come. Never meant to be real." He searched my face as if sketching it to memory. A tender hand reached out and brushed a wayward white strand from my face. "Your hair is like moonlight," he breathed before pain flashed across his features, gone within a second, making me think that perhaps I had imagined it.

"Tell me," I pleaded, my voice soft and vulnerable.

"To break the curse, I would have to make a sacrifice I'm not willing to make. Not now, not ever." He stared into my eyes with an intensity I didn't understand. His gaze turned crimson, and my dragon stared back at me. "We've waited for you for a very long time."

A terrible understanding washed over me. The prophecy I'd read—Lore must sacrifice his true love to break the curse. He refused to pay such a price, even for his kingdom. Confusion seemed my constant companion because he would never find this love. I surely wasn't it, no matter what his dragon believed. I couldn't be.

I shook my head, confused. "You—you hate me. Lore hates me."

He moved closer, his eyes intense and laser-focused as he leaned toward me. His hands went out to caress my face as I felt my traitorous body arching into his touch, turning my face into it. When I realized what I was doing, I snapped my head back, which was a mistake as it brought our lips only a breath apart. He trailed his lips lightly over mine, soft and gentle, before he pulled back.

"He doesn't hate you; he fears you. Dragons… we know what is ours in an instant, but men, mortals, are harder. Lore's still catching up." His deep voice rumbled before his crimson eyes faded back to blue.

"Do you know when he will take over? Are you both connected together again?" I asked.

"No, we are still disconnected but in all the years in the castle he's never been able to show himself in my mortal body until you came." Lore leaned forward to breathe me in, making me arch my back. He pushed off the wall and stepped back.

I realized he had taken my anger from me, distracting me. I refused to be distracted. I planted my hands on my hips and glared, forcing my thundering heart to calm down and thoughts to quickly scream at me to kiss him.

"So you know that your dragon claimed me, right?"

"I suspected as much." Lore nodded, ran his hands through his dark auburn hair, and a deep sigh escaped him.

"What was that with the undead the other night?" I demanded. Again, I grabbed hold of my anger, refusing to leave this alone and just trust him. "Why do they attack, and why are all those people suspended there? Are you the only one that can see them that way?"

Horror hit me as I remembered the broken porcelain pieces on the throne before entering the ballroom. He had stared at that throne with anguish so great I had felt it coming off him in waves. Was he forced to look upon his parents every day, stuck in between the state of life and death?

"Goddess," I breathed as the realization hit me. "This curse; it's to torture you. It's all meant for you to suffer."

His anguished-filled eyes met mine again. "You will suffer too if you don't find a way to leave."

I straightened my spine. "The attacks?" I demanded in a firm voice, refusing to fall into fear and anxiety. "Why?"

"There haven't been any attacks like that in centuries. I suspect the curse is close to an end." I watched as Lore sat, but his words were sad and despondent, as if the end wasn't good. It was as if he feared it as much as he desperately wanted it.

"Will they attack again?"

He nodded. "Most likely."

"Train me as you promised and tell me as much as you can about the curse as you can." I walked toward the swords, hesitating momentarily in the flash of memory of the last time I'd held a sword.

"I am sorry for that…" He trailed off, watching me. Seeing far too much. "I shouldn't have shown you."

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