32. Tamsyn

32

Tamsyn

I FINALLY GOT MY WAY.

The day after Stig's arrival, he invited me on a ride. I wasn't naive. I knew he wanted to get me outside the fortress, alone and away from prying eyes and ears, so that he could talk to me. So he could verify for himself that I was really safe, that no one was hurting me here—namely, my husband.

He didn't believe Fell to be the kind of man who wouldn't harm me. He thought the Beast of the Borderlands was a brute. A barbarian. All the things I had once assumed. To be fair, everyone had believed that of him.

In Stig's mind, Fell could only be mistreating me. Stig would never suspect that every night I spent in bed with my husband I felt my resolve weakening, that I sank deeper and deeper into bewildering and complicated feelings, longing for the man I could never trust myself to have.

Whatever the case, whatever the reason, I was finally outside the fortress, finally riding through the soaring foothills that served as a prelude to the Crags, and I was glad for it.

Last night, Fell and Stig had closeted themselves away with their most trusted warriors to strategize and discuss important matters. No one had to tell me what those matters were. I knew the most important subject up for discussion had been me.

Well. Not me me.

Me the dragon.

They weren't going to let it go. They were going to send out hunting parties. They were going to search every corner of every wood for the dragon. I felt their determination like a noose settling around my neck, tightening incrementally, bit by bit.

I might spend every night sleeping safely in a warm bed, Fell a comforting, tempting presence beside me... but I felt like a volcano ready to erupt.

I was not safe here. I was not secure. I felt like a body poisoned. Toxic venom winding through me, doing its work, grinding and churning toward my slow and inevitable death.

The irony was not lost on me. Fell thought it was not safe for me to venture outside the fortress, too worried about the threat of a dragon. Of course, I knew there was no threat. There was just me.

And the riskiest place of all? In bed beside him, my would-be killer.

I lifted my face to the curling mist and exhaled as Stig and I ambled along.

Eventually, Fell would learn that Stig had taken me outside the fortress. He would be displeased. But I would deal with that then.

Currently there was just contentment—riding with my friend through the mist-shrouded countryside, the Crags a comforting shadow beside us, weaving a silent song in my head, pulling me closer by a gentle thread, beckoning...

"I suppose we should turn back. Getting a little too close to..." Stig's voice faded as he glanced up toward the jagged, snow-covered face of the mountain nearest us.

He wanted us to turn back for the obvious reason. I could have pointed out that the last sighting of the dragon had been miles away from here. But the speed with which dragons flew made that a moot point. Dragons could be anywhere in Penterra. Or anywhere else. It didn't matter where we were. And yet I would rather not feed into any of the frenzy around the topic of dragons. If anything, I wanted to douse those flames.

"Let's walk for a bit," I suggested.

Stig hesitated only a moment before nodding. We dismounted in unison. Gathering our reins loosely in gloved hands, we strolled leisurely.

Taking a breath, I plunged ahead. "I don't want you to worry about the dragon anymore."

I made the request solemnly, almost as though I were uttering a prayer, and that was what it felt like. A desperate prayer. A desperate hope I was casting into the wind, hoping someone heard it, some god or deity with the power to help me.

We ventured deeper into the woods, our boots crunching over pristine whiteness. Tree branches creaked and groaned overhead in the wind from the weight of last night's snowfall.

I stroked a gloved hand down the nose of my mount idly and sent Stig a hopeful look.

"Not worry?" He looked at me incredulously. "How? How can I not? A dragon alive?" He shook his head. "It took you. You are lucky to have survived. It killed one of Dryhten's men. We all need to be worried. This is not a problem only for the Borderlands. It concerns all of us. And there could be others."

And there could be others.

He put voice to the thought that I had struggled to avoid. Now I had to face it.

Could there be others? Others like me? As confused and lost and alone as I was? Or perhaps they had answers and a better understanding of what was happening to me. Perhaps they could help me feel not so confused, not so lost, not so alone. Could I find them? I glanced at the Crags again, hope stirring in my heart.

"I will find this dragon," Stig added with such vehemence, such conviction that I knew...

He would never stop.

He would never let it go. Never give up the idea of the dragon, of hunting it—even if he didn't realize that the thing he wanted to destroy, the thing he was hunting... was me .

Perhaps there was my answer.

Perhaps he needed to know.

Perhaps then we could put our heads together and come up with a solution.

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

He was my oldest friend. So often my refuge, the person I could go to, the person to comfort me and help me see things plainly.

I took a great, fortifying breath. "What if you knew that the dragon meant no harm?"

His gaze turned amused. "What do you know of a dragon's intentions, Tamsyn?" He chuckled lightly, as though I had just suggested the most preposterous thing. As though I was a stupid, foolish girl who still believed in fairy tales. "When has a dragon ever not intended harm?"

A question I could not answer. Unless I did.

Unless I did answer him.

Unless I answered him honestly, sincerely...

It was time. Time to talk to him as one friend to another. As one faithful friend to another.

If I could not trust Stig, then whom could I trust?

I had known him all my life. He was the person who had offered to leave everything behind, all of his responsibilities, his rank, his position, for me. To run away with me, to start over someplace else.

I was so very tired. So tired of keeping this to myself, locked away like a dirty secret.

Tired of treading lightly around my husband, keeping him at arm's length when he wanted a wife, when he wanted me in the truest sense, as a man wants a woman. When I wanted him. When one more night in his bed would be my breaking point, the final push over the edge.

This secret, this thing pressing down like bricks on my chest, was a crushing burden, and I needed to lift it away, to share it with someone else. With a friend.

I moistened my lips, a sudden chill pebbling my skin that had nothing to do with the winter wind surrounding us. It had everything to do with what I was about to do. What I was about to say.

"Stig, I have something to tell you." I took several more sips of air, hoping that would steady my nerves.

Stig looked at me expectantly, patiently waiting, and gave me a nod of encouragement, as though he sensed I needed it.

"I am not the same person I was when I left the City."

His face went a little dark, as though he did not like that—did not like the reminder that I had left the City or the reminder that I had changed since then.

He shook his head grimly. "I should never have let you go. Never let you marry him. I failed—"

"No. It's not that. I don't think leaving the City had anything to do with me changing..."

At least I didn't think so. But what did I know? All I knew was that there was a great deal I didn't know.

I continued, "Something happened to me out there... during the crossing."

He shook his head. His hand reached out for mine, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. "I am so sorry. You should've never been out there. They should have protected you. He should have."

I shook my head back at him. "This isn't about Fell."

His jaw hardened as though the mention of my husband was too much for him.

"Of course it's about him. That bastard would not know how to—"

"Stig! This isn't about Fell. This is about me. This is about what happened to me. What is happening to me. I am a—" The word stuck in my throat.

He stared at me, waiting.

"I am..." I fought to get it out, to spit out the word, to get it off my tongue. It was just a word. One word. It shouldn't mean so very much.

He gave a kind nod, prompting me to continue.

I tried again, and this time... I succeeded.

"I am a dragon. The dragon you're all looking for."

There were several moments when he neither moved, nor blinked, nor spoke. I wasn't sure he even breathed.

"Stig, did you hear me?"

He shook his head and laughed awkwardly.

"Stig, I'm not joking."

His laugh turned dry, humorless. "Why would you say that?"

"I know it is unbelievable—"

"No." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's..." His voice faded, as if he were unable to find the right word. He released a huff of frustration. "Did he put you up to this? Why would you say such a thing?"

"I know it seems incredible, but I really need your help." My voice cracked, all my pent-up emotion rising, bubbling up in my throat, ready to break loose. I swallowed, trying to get a grip on myself, before I erupted into messy sobs.

"Hey, hey, there," Stig soothed, pulling me into his arms.

I gave in. Tears rushed from me in a torrent.

I buried my face in his chest, my words a mumble of nonsense. "I am... a... I am... scared. I'm a dragon. I turned into a dragon. Please, please, Stig. Please believe me..."

He made hushing sounds into my hair, his arms wrapped tightly around me. The comfort felt good. Supportive. But he wasn't listening. He didn't believe me.

I pulled back to look up at him, to reach him, to convey to him with my eyes and expression that I was sincere.

"Tamsyn," he said softly, as he wiped strands of hair from my wet cheeks. "I am so sorry I let this happen to you. I am so sorry I let him take you..."

I shook my head wearily. He did not understand. He was not listening.

I tried one more time. "Please. Listen to me. I am a—"

He kissed me.

I barely had time to register his head coming down, closing the distance between us. He swallowed my gasp, drank it in.

My palms were flat against his chest, pushing. He didn't budge. He didn't even seem to notice, to feel my hands. His lips continued to move over mine, the pressure increasing as a hungry, satisfied sound rumbled up from him. The kiss grew persistent.

Suddenly there was a sound. A stinging curse.

And then Stig was gone, wrenched from me in a blur, leaving only dead space in front of me.