Page 94 of Edge of the Wild

Too late, though. Erik’s brows shot up. His head tilted to an angle that could only be calleddangerous. The room seemed much smaller, suddenly, and Oliver was struck by the wild notion that he was afraid, more so than when he’d faced down the cold-drake, and the world – his world – had turned upside down in a matter of days.

Slowly, Erik drained his cup a second time, and set it on the sideboard. With an air of choosing his words carefully – which Oliverhadn’tdone – he said, “I thought, after everything, that we had reached an understanding. I thought you understood that it was anhonor, your title. That a consort is the equivalent of a queen – is royalty. You’ve offered wise counsel, and you’ve charmed all my lords, and you are convincing everyone, every day, that our alliance with Drakewell is good for this kingdom…and now you throw my trust back in my face, and call yourself a bedwarmer.”

“Erik, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“No!” Erik roared, jabbing a finger through the air at him. “You wanted to fight? Then let’s fight, because Iamangry now.”

A small writing desk sat to Oliver’s right, and he slammed his cup down on it, slopping wine. “Angrynow? Because I insultedmyself? What about last night? What in the gods’ names was I supposed to think in the face of your indifference? Sleeping – sleeping alone, and you with your ‘good morning,’ and treating me like a stranger. What is that if not anger?”

Erik took one aggressive step closer, veins in his throat standing out, throwing shadows, teeth bared in a snarl. “Did you not think it could be worry? Or fear?”

“How could I have known if you wouldn’t tell me?”

Erik started to advance another step – caught himself with a growl and turned away; faced the fire. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Those are not things that I readily speak of.”

“Not even to me?”

“I am not – I am not used to this. To being someone’s partner.” The last was a reluctant growl.

And possibly the most vulnerable thing Oliver had ever heard him say. He didn’t take it lightly.

But he said, “Do you think thatIam either? A few hayloft tumbles and cloak closet trysts doesn’t exactly ready one for marriage.”

Erik folded his arms; took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, nostrils flaring.

“What about this scares you?” Oliver asked. “Why do you not want me to – to do what my bloodline was apparently meant to do?”

He didn’t think, at first that Erik would answer. “I–” He paused. Another inhale, exhale. “I knew the story of Percival Bracken. That was how I knew that you would have the gift.”

“But you didn’t tell me that story.”

A muscle leaped in his jaw. “Once he’d found his drake, once he could fly…Percy Bracken didn’t care about anything else. He never married, never fathered children – not even bastards. The old timers here say the prostitutes actually missed him.” He snorted, humorlessly. “And here you are talking about being useful, about beingspecial…” His voice went very low and quiet. “Ragnar even taunted me over it. You’ll learn how to fly, and you’ll be gone.”

Oliver could only stare at him a few long moments. When he was able, he said, “Beg pardon?”

Erik shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His tone was that of a grieving man – but hard, so very hard. “Being consort is a yoke around your neck. But your gift – that is freedom.”

“Freedom,” Oliver said, woodenly.

“It was what Percy wanted. What could be more special, in a strangling world of kings, and princes, and lords, and ladies, than the whole of the sky at your disposal? A man with a dragon answers to no one.”

Oliver felt a disbelieving laugh bubble up in his throat. He managed to swallow it. “All right, so, first off: I am not, in fact, Percy Bracken. And secondly, in case you haven’t noticed, the most adventurous thing I’ve ever done is climb into bed withyou, you great oaf.”

Erik’s head snapped around, braids slapping against his chest.

“In our acquaintance, have I ever given you any reason to think that I want to go flying off into the ether, on my own, never to be seen or heard from again? I like baths, thank you very much, and I’m not sure I could carry a shaving kit on the back of a dragon. Maybe Percy wanted to sleep in a cave, but I’ve grown awfully fond of feather mattresses and velvet dressing gowns. You have dressed me up like a barbarian.” He flapped his arms in demonstration of his outfit. “Granted, it’s a very fine barbarian outfit. But still. Whatever drove Percy to run off from his family, and sail on pirate ships – merchant vessels, whatever. That strain of the Drake blood certainly doesn’t run in me.”

When Erik swallowed, it looked as if it pained him. “I asked you to stay behind, inside, at Redcliff, and the next thing I know you’re riding out alone to face down a dragon. There’s nothing meek about that.”

“There’s nothing brave, either,” Oliver said, frustration mounting. “You asked me to stay behind, and I did. I stood on the wall with Askr’s invalid son, and we commiserated about being no good to anyone–”

“That’s not true.”

“Let me finish. I wasn’t any good, not in that moment. I can’t pick up a sword or a spear and go hand-to-hand with a bunch of bear-wearing wildmen in the forest. But when I saw the dragon – when I heard the dragon – heard its pain, and its cry for help – I knew that Icouldbe useful.” He huffed, annoyed with his own inexact language. “No. Fuck that. Fuckuseful. You were facing down a dragon, and it was going tokill you, and by gods, I’m not going to stand still and watch you die.”

“It very well could have killed you instead.”

“Which is it, Erik? Do you know I have agift, and that I might fall under a drake’s spell and be whisked away from you? Or am I about to be dinner? Which are you afraid of?”

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