I hope we both die

Anger (Part Two)

Arctic

Foeslayer's mother lets me borrow some of her jewelry. It's too strange and colourful, jagged peices of onyx and bloodred rubies slipping between my talons. Like the goal is to stand out, not to blend in. I close my eyes, and I can still hear my etiquette teacher at school droning on and on and on about the symbolism of certain gemstones and the importance of showing respect for the Great Ice Dragon in every aspect of our lives.

Foeslayer wears moonstones and opals. She looks beautiful, I think to myself, in a quiet corner of my mind.

"Here," she says, picking up the onyx necklace and putting it over my head. "It'll look like we match."

I take her talon in mine, looking away.

"Arctic," she says slowly. "We need to be careful. I know a lot of these dragons–by reputation, anyway. Half of Queen Vigilance's court is going to want to give you back to your mother by force–and the other half probably just wants to use you for your magic.

"What are you implying?" I say, bristling.

"Just, that... well, um..." she buries her face in her talons. "Arctic, this isn't the time for your little sour faces and snippy remarks. If these dragons doubt us–not that they have a good reason to–then we're not going to be able to live here anymore."

I scoff. "Why do we even want to live here? Please, enlighten me."

"Arctic," she says sternly.

"I'm not a dragonet.  Don't talk to me that way."

"This is what I'm talking about!" she says, gesticulating. "This. The snarking! We need to get these dragons to believe that we are something worth fighting for, that we're sympathetic, because otherwise they're going to try and kill you, and make our lives in this place so terrible, we're going to have to leave."

Which would be a bad thing? I want to say back. I don't. Not that she gives me any credit for that.

"Fine. Then–how do we do that?" I ask, impatient. At school, they taught us all about how to save face at court parties. But IceWing relationships never had to involve any of this feelings nonsense.

She furrows her brow. "Um, I don't know. I could... put my wing over your shoulder." She demonstrates, smiling. "And maybe you could, um–you could lean in and whisper things to me."

"What things?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll just, um–I'll laugh, and I'll smile at you. Like--like this." Her fake laugh sounds like something dying.

"That was awful."

"It would be better if it were–you know. If I really needed it to be good," she promises. "I'll work on it, don't worry. And—you should call me things like love, or darling. Do you do that in the Ice Kingdom?"

I shake my head, horrified at the thought. "Three moons. No."

The displays of affection, the food, the sleep cycle. What an odd kingdom.

"Well, come on sweetheart," she says, poking me. "Give it a try."

"All right, darling," I mutter. It does feel nice to say.

She giggles. "See? You're gonna learn in no time."

This is the beginning and end of my universe.

This is my life, now.

***

The room feels warm and suffocating, too many dragons pressed too close together. It's not hard to spot the queen, making small talk with an advisor up on one of the balconies and overlooking the whole scene with amusement. She's decked out with jewels, and she has a certain authority to her. Something in the way she carries herself that says I could ruin the lives of everyone in this room.