Page 72 of Enslaved

“As you have already noted, I am elfkin. We are incapable of lying.”

“And what a lie that is!” The dragon rolls her one good eye. “Don’t think I can’t smell the human blood on you, boy. You positively reek of it. Not to mention the curse you bear. Ugh! I don’t remember that being there the last time you paid me a visit. It’s quite nauseating, frankly.”

“Do you want that sword removed from your eye or don’t you?”

She is silent, puffing smoke from her nostrils like an engine. “Very well,” she says finally. “Draw near if you have such a death wish. But I give you fair warning! Should you prove false in your promises, should the sword not come free, I will eat you in a single bite and not bother roasting you beforehand. Do we understand one another?”

“Absolutely, Great Oasuroa.”

So the dragon, still half-submerged, rests her head on the pool’s lip. I approach, moving carefully but without hesitation. My boots splash in puddles of sacred water until I stand before her ruined eye and the sparkling jeweled hilt protruding from it. Taking hold with both hands, I send a silent prayer winging to whatever gods might care to receive it. Then I pull.

The blade slips out in a smooth easy glide. With a last flash of priceless jewels, it disintegrates to dust in my hands.

Oasuroa utters a bellow of either pain or joy, it’s impossible to say which. She rears her head, rears her whole body, and roars so loud, the high domed ceiling above shakes, and streams of sand come pouring down all around us. “At last!” she cries. “At last and at last! For countless turns of the bloody cycle I’ve carried that curse with me, unable to escape the prick, the pain! Sometimes it drove me halfway to madness, sometimes right over the brink! And now . . . and now . . .”

Words failing, she opens her throat and emits a gout of flame, like a volcano erupting from her gut. I leap back, narrowly escaping her lashing tail, and retreat, hands up to shield my face from the heat. “Oasuroa!” I cry, helpless to make myself heard over her noise. “You must fulfill your end of the bargain!”

I’m obliged to repeat myself several times before the jubilant dragon finally ceases her uproar and turns her eye on me once more. The other eye is still ruined, gushing with a fresh surge of lava-bright blood. But she smiles a magnificent, toothy dragon-smile. “Very well, elfkin. Claim what is due your mistress. And tell her . . . tell her . . .”

Her voice trails away. Her good eye narrows. She stares at me, studying me even as I kneel to fill the small waterskin I brought along for the purpose. I secure the stopper and, as she doesn’t seem to have more to add, bow once more. “I will take my leave, Great Oasuroa.”

“Yes,” she replies, her voice vibrating softly. “Take your leave. And tell your lady mistress the truth.”

I pause halfway to the door. Turning, I look back over my shoulder, back into that hideous, smoke-wreathed grin. “I’ve told her no lies.”

The dragon chuckles. “How like a fae you sound! We all know a truth omitted will sting just the same as any falsehood.” She lowers her head, bringing her face down to the level of mine. “I see the truth of your rotten little soul. She’ll never be yours, elfkin. You’ve offered your heart, but even if she accepts it, she’ll throw it back in your miserable face the moment she learns of your falsehood.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answer, my jaw hard as stone.

“Oh? Another lie? How charming.”

Oasuroa turns away then, dragging her great scaled body and limp wings back into the shadows behind a curtain of falling sand. Her voice echoes to the domed ceiling as she tosses it over her scaled spine: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now be off! Before this whole place crumbles down upon your head.”

Tucking the waterskin into the front of my shirt, I turn and flee that chamber, leaving the dimming light of the fountain behind forever.

Spring Summit Night stretches on and on.

It’s difficult to keep track of time. In Vespre, the palace bells tolled out each hour, and I was able to structure some sort of day-and-night facsimile for myself. Aurelis generally has some mild fluctuations from dawn-glow through to the delicate twilight which passes for night in this realm.

But during Summit Night, there’s no clear way to map out the minutes or hours. All I know is my deadline is counting down, slowly but inexorably. My deadline to three days of pain.

Well, so be it. I made the bargain in good faith, didn’t I? And the crone said I shouldn’t die. I’ve endured my share of agony in this life. What’s three days in the grand scheme of things? So I tell myself when I crawl out of bed after a long but restless sleep. It’s still dark outside my window, but I set to work making myself ready for whatever happens next. I wash my face in the golden washbasin, dry it on a gold-threaded towel, then sit before the gold-leaf mirror and stare at my hollow face in the glass. There’s no ghoulish image of sewn-up eye sockets this time. Just my own haggard, sunken-eyed reflection. These last few days have been brutal. It’s no wonder I’ve started hearing things. Impossible things.

Things like my brother’s voice sounding in the passage outside my room.

A shiver ripples down my spine. Oscar once told me he’d met someone. I’d put enough pieces together—particularly his addiction torothiliom—to gather that someone was fae. But it couldn’t be . . . it simply couldn’t be . . .

No. I’m obviously delusional. And the uneasy sleep I’d just had tossing and turning in this sumptuous new bed hadn’t helped matters. How could anyone sleep in a room like this anyway? My name surrounds me, blaring at me, as though Ivor himself is even now calling me over and over and over and over in that deep, longing-infused voice of his.

Getting dressed and arranging my hair is more complicated than it should be. I don’t want to wear any of the gowns or use the ornate combs glinting with my own bejeweled name. But there’s nothing else to be had. Eventually, I choose a gown of shimmering spring green trimmed with delicate gold braid. The neckline is low, curved in a sweetheart over my breasts, but at least there are sleeves. They perch right on the edge of my shoulders, ready at the least provocation to fall romantically down my upper arm. I’ll take care not to make any sudden movements. The skirt, at least, is long and full, though when I take a step, a slit up the front runs all the way past my knee. Still, for the fae, it’s positively demure. I don the gown, vowing to return to the queen’s suite in search of my own discarded work dress at the next opportunity. For now, this will do.

Feeling a little foolish and exposed, I step from the bedchamber, relieved to leave all that gold and glitter behind me. Ivor has given me no commands, so I slip from his apartments and steal my way across the palace unimpeded. The ball is still just getting warmed up—laughter echoes down every passage, and the music waxes wilder and more wanton by the moment. Steering away from the noisier, more brightly lit halls, I make for the library. There, at least, I may find both quiet and, hopefully, employment. Anything to take me outside of my own head. Anything to stop me wondering . . . worrying . . . wishing . . .

Thaddeus is at the front desk, thank the gods. His face brightens at the sight of me but dims when he takes in my gown. “Miss Darlington,” he says gravely, closing the book before him and peering at me over his square spectacles. “I heard rumor Lord Ivor purchased your Obligation.”

“Indeed,” I answer, painting a smooth smile on my face, “and I am eager to return to my duties here. Might I be of help in the workroom? Or I’d be happy to reorganize the chronologies. When I was sorting through the volumes the other day, I had a few ideas.”

Thaddeus blinks. Then he removes his spectacles and slowly cleans them on the sleeve of his robe, taking so long over them I feel a scream building in my throat. I swallow it back and wait with every appearance of patience until he finally sets the spectacles back on his nose and looks at me again. “Has Lord Ivor himself commanded you to come here?”

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