To Marry a Dragon

24. A Scary Story

Lord Eldwin set a punishing pace to return to Carridar, so it wasn't until after the sunset that Elvira pitched her tent, refusing help from the soldiers. She went to inquire after Sir Theophil's well-being immediately afterward, with a gift of water and food. He swore that no discomfort was too much for serving Her Majesty, but the freckles stood out on his pallid face.

Watching him eat was a heartening sight. The day he loses his appetite... well, then there is no hope for the world, let alone for the new Queen of Gallicia. She chuckled and wished she could have him sleeping at the entrance to her tent, because dread thickened over her soul as darkness fell outside. Alas, this request would put the poor man into an even more precarious position.

"Good night, Sir. Sleep well."

He pressed her hand to his lips without an electrical incident. "I am sorry, Your Majesty."

She couldn't stand the tormented look in his eyes. "You did the right thing, Sir. You counted on your father to be as honorable as you are."

She scurried back through the camp, throwing worried glances over her shoulder, but she arrived at her tent unmolested. Once there, she took out her acorn. "Cerne, are you awake?"

Half the night must have passed before Cerne finally came out of her shell and sat on the bedroll, stretching. "I have so many questions!"

"And I have so few answers." Elvira settled next to the dryad with her legs folded under her. She didn't want to talk. Just braid hair... if Lord Eldwin thought of bringing along her embroidery, she'd have embroidered the night away, to calm her confused thoughts.

And she shouldn't have thought of Lord Eldwin. His shadow darkened the tent flap with a quartet of guards behind his shoulder.

"I was just thinking about you, My Lord," Elvira said. "And here you are." Just like an evil spirit of darkness from the black pits of doom.

"Nothing pleases me more than being a subject of your ruminations," he replied with a polite indifference.

Cerne squealed, but Elvira squeezed her elbow in a plea to stay. If she felt alone and scared just walking in the dark between the tents, being in Lord Eldwin's company reduced her to a state of near panic. Here was the man capable of anything. She shifted a little to reach for a whetting stone and pulled a knife out of its sheath.

"It was a dryad then," Lord Eldwin started conversationally. "A powerful ally, but fickle, like all nature magic."

Cerne huffed. "Humans think that which kills in the most predictable way is the most valuable magic."

Elvira said nothing, putting an edge on the knife with smooth, soothing motions.

Lord Eldwin didn't need a welcoming audience or an invitation to sit down. He criss-crossed his muscular legs and steepled his gloved hands under the dimpled chin. His eyes moved from Cerne to the knife.

"Safety is paramount, so I am glad Your Majesty doesn't neglect it. The wilderness claims more land and the monsters unheard of in two hundred years emerge from its dark bowels."

Cerne huffed again. "The elder beings are reclaiming their lands that the Empire cleared away and gave to the humans."

Lord Eldwin measured the dryad with a disdainful stare, but didn't deem to respond. Instead, he kept speaking only to Elvira. "There was a dragon marauding in Monterrey recently. Maidens' abductions, crop burnings--the usual dragon mischief. By rumours, he was large enough to make it across the Gulf."

Elvira lowered her face over the knife, letting the hair hide her bloodless cheeks. It wasn't Sir Theophil that Lord Protector had hinted at earlier. Or did he? She was afraid to meet the man's eyes to give Ferrante away if by some sorcery he had guessed something. Or Sigvart had sold her secret out in a failed attempt to save his skin.