Page 61 of Earth Dragon
Malcolm let out a soft scoff, but Ionna moved up to Shannon, offering her hand to her. Shannon stared at it as though it was something unfamiliar, then slowly reached up to take it.
“I thank you on behalf of the House of Fawha,” Ionna said. There was a point to that statement, one that Malcolm surely did not miss.
“I should have done it sooner,” Shannon said. “But I was too blinded.”
“We have all trusted those we should not have,” Ionna shook her head. “It’s how we move on from it, how we make amends and forgive, that show our true character,” she added, again the words pointedly directed more at Malcolm than Shannon, or so Ewan thought.
Malcolm looked uncomfortable enough to underscore that Ewan was right in his observation and Ewan smiled. It seemed their relationship was only growing stronger if Ionna’s opinion carried such weight.
Ewan’s thoughts drifted to the daughter they had left at home and to the conversation he had just had with Shannon. Her hand going to her belly like that. As though she could still see herself playing that role, accepting it as her purpose to be by his side. But it had all been an act. Had it not?
He disliked the fluttering around his hearts and waved at it to go away, go back to where it had come from, leave him in peace.
She had shared buried truths with him, had dragged them to the surface to examine them, but was that enough to tell him her true character? He wanted to allow her actions to make amends with the people, to allow her to show her true character, but it would take another lifetime of her staying devoted to it to prove that it was who she truly was.
And still, he had wanted to drag the tip of his nose along the ridge of hers and catch her mouth with his.
He still wanted to.
Mere desire, he told himself.Nothing more.
But he knew it was not true and if he was losing his hearts to a traitor then what sort of ruler would he become? If he was so easily seduced by corruption, then what hope did he have of withstanding it as the decades flowed into centuries?
He had to show his true character and what he showed had to be that he stood above petty desires. He had to prove to himself that he had the self-control necessary to wear the crown. Otherwise, how could he ever go to his father and ask him to place it on his head? How could he ask his people to follow him?
You are going to make a great monarch, my lord.
The words Shannon had spoken to him mere minutes before came back to him and they soothed his growing internal bluster until it was as though it had never existed.
His gaze drifted to her, the harshness of his own thoughts making him heat with soft shame. Did she not prove herself at every turn? If Ionna could show her gratitude, then why shouldn’t he? If Fawha could be on the brink of forgiveness, then why not Rogoros?
“We’ve come with not a whole lot of information of what is expected of us,” Hugh said.
“You’re expected to sit down, have some pie and listen to the knight,” Lady Marigold instructed and, before many minutes had passed, they had each found a somewhat comfortable place to sit. All apart from Sir Patrick, who remained standing.
The pie was handed out whether the meal was wanted or not, though Petrus looked exceedingly happy at being handed another meal. Shannon stared at his smiling face as though she had never seen a man so excited about pie, and then silence settled over those assembled as all eyes turned on the knight.
He looked around at all of them and said, “As far as I know—”
“Asfaras you know?” Malcolm interrupted. “You brought us here on as little as that?”
“You have not let the young dragon finish his sentence, my king,” Lady Marigold chastised. “Perhaps if he’s allowed to, we can all get a better sense of what distance he’s referring to.”
“Fine,” Malcolm muttered, crossing his arms over his chest with raised eyebrows at Sir Patrick to go on.
“We could take this outside,” Sir Patrick remarked. “If anyone has a sword to lend me—”
Malcolm rose to his feet, as did Ewan. “Please,” Ewan said. “Settle down. Both of you. Sir knight, you have barely a whole foot to stand on here, so I suggest you don’t pick at the still fresh wounds you once inflicted.”
Sir Patrick did back down at that, eyes on Malcolm’s. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have wounds of my own.”
“Spare me your tiresome bids for sympathy,” Malcolm growled bitterly. “And go on with your tale.”
“I shall,” Sir Patrick said, giving a slight bow. “Thank you, my liege.”
“You are not sworn to my House, knight,” Malcolm spat, but Ionna placed a hand on his arm, and he lapsed into sullen silence.
Ewan observed the easy exchange between them. She need not say a word and she knew she could still calm him. It looked rather nice.
