Page 36 of Water Dragon
“Of course, I will,” she replied.
***
The cells were carved roughly out of the bedrock foundation of the castle. The dark blue stone shimmered softly in the torchlight from bronze deposits that pricked through like stars in the night sky. It was a gloomy place but offered a beauty that most of its occupiers had done nothing to deserve. Or so Malcolm had often thought. He had wondered if they should paint the place black instead but hadn’t had the hearts to ever suggest it to his father.
The cells had been hacked into the bedrock itself in half-moon shapes with arches that faced the corridor and bars fitted directly into them. There was no privacy, no corner in the cell in which to hide. It was the one proper punishment, aside from being behind lock and key. The beauty of the place could not make up for it.
Sir Patrick turned when he heard their footfall.
He didn’t look surprised.
“Highness,” he gave a nod once Malcolm stopped by the bars, the knight’s attention drifting to Iona. “You know, you fought so well the other day,” he said. “Perhaps if you had worn Malcolm’s armor today, I would have been the one to hit the ground.”
“You cheated,” she replied, taking a step forward.
Sir Patrick smiled then at the irony, gaze on Malcolm. Here, Iona stood defending Malcolm against Sir Patrick’s dirty tricks even though Malcolm had pulled the dirtiest trick in the book while fighting her.
“I had due cause,” Sir Patrick remarked. “Is it cheating if it’s for a higher purpose?”
“So, it wasn’t for your own sake,” Malcolm concluded. “You admit as much.”
“I admit it freely,” Sir Patrick replied. “There should be no secrets between friends.”
“What is this poison you’ve put in him?” Iona demanded, reaching for the bars as though wanting to break them apart with her bare hands, force Sir Patrick to provide answers, provide any necessary remedy.
Sir Patrick’s eyebrows rose. He was impressed. Clearly he had not expected them to work it out so quickly, if at all. He stepped back from the bars in mock-fright of her sudden proximity, then sighed softly, eyes back on Malcolm.
“I am sorry about that,” he said. “It was necessary. For the greater good.”
There was sarcasm streaking every word of that final statement, and Malcolm was beginning to get the distinct impression that whatever reason Sir Patrick had for being involved with the conspiracy, it was not out of pure conviction.
“What do they have to hold over you?” he asked.
Sir Patrick tilted his head to the side, watching him intently. “Why would you think there’s anything held over me?”
“Because this cannot be you,” Malcolm said. “Your ambition cannot have brought you to make a deal with these people, to form a connection with them. You cannot possibly be tied to their maniacal higher purpose. Ending the bloodlines? Upending millennia of peaceful coexisting with nature itself? That is what you believe in?”
“Peaceful coexisting,” Sir Patrick repeated. “Is that how you view it?”
“How do you view it?” Malcolm asked.
Sir Patrick let out a soft sigh, then he shrugged. “All right, I confess I don’t really care about whether the bloodlines remain or not, but the people you are up against, I can assure you they don’t believe there is any coexisting with nature, peaceful or not. You claim that unspooling the generational elemental magic will create chaos. They claim that this is chaos because taming nature in this way, tying the elemental forces to dragons in order to tame and wield them—that is unnatural.”
Malcolm huffed, shaking his head. “Madness,” he said. “If they have no hold over you and you don’t care about their cause, then why are you doing this?”
“What else?” Sir Patrick asked. “Gold. New beginnings, highness. We all search for them where we can.”
“You would betray your own king for gold?” Iona asked, deep furrow between her brows, as though the very concept was so foreign she had trouble grasping it. “Don’t you have gold? And plenty of it?”
“No,” Sir Patrick admitted. “Not anymore. My father lost our fortune a few decades back. We’ve been living on borrowed time ever since. And I’ve grown tired of it. Any more early morning confessions that you would like me to offer up on a platter or are we done there?”
“Who are behind it?” Malcolm asked.
Sir Patrick shook his head slowly at that. “They will kill me,” he said.
“I will protect you,” Malcolm stated. “By the crown not yet on my head, I swear it.”
“You cannot,” Sir Patrick said. “You cannot protect me from shapeless, nameless foes. I do not know their faces. I’ve only ever met with their middlemen.”
