His mouth opens, then slowly closes, the muscles in his jaw jumping. One brow glides up his forehead, mouth tight against his teeth as he says, “Getout.”
I step up to him, so close that if we could touch, he would feel the heat of my words on his skin. “Make me.”
He glares at me, eyes narrowed. Then he moves past me and plants himself down on the ground. “I have better uses for my energy than to force you out,” he answers.
I walk around and sit in front of him. “But you could. You did before.”
He doesn’t answer me.
“Right?” I prompt.
Again, his answer is silence.
“You’re ignoring me.” I pause, then say as realization sets in, “Again.”
“I should be glad you aren’t a complete fool.”
The flare of my nostrils is the only answer I give him, but he doesn’t see because his eyes are closed. Then, I feel the surge of his power, sense a fluctuation of energy behind me. I turn and look, but all I see is the dark night sky and the gods eyes. And, I’m still here.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, gesturing around the balcony. The first time I came to him, he was doing exactly this. Is it some kind of meditation, like Ozias has been guiding me through?
“I think the better question is what are you doing here?” He opens his eyes again, and because I’m sitting directly in front of him, they lock with mine immediately and my breath lodges in my throat.
I let my head fall back against the balcony railing. “Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to stop myself from coming. I turn into a dragon, I fall asleep, and then I’m here.”
“You haven’t alerted any of the Realm’s inhabitants you see me? Ozias perhaps?”
I keep my mouth firmly shut and I think I see the ghost of a smile play across his lips.
“So you do see the uselessness in asking your enemy questions.”
“You were once my king. A man who sealed me with avow of protection,” I counter.
“And now you know the truth of it.”
“You won’t deny it? Even in the slightest?” He doesn’t answer. “Would answering me reveal some great secret I could use against you?”
“Perhaps.”
At the same time, we hear a child cry out. We both tense, and he winces before his face hardens a fraction. My curiosity piques again and it feels dangerous, treacherous. He’s not at all like what I expected him to be. Then again, I never expected to get close enough to know him.
“Why?” I ask.
Again, I’m met with silence.
“The babies? The crying? Why do you allow yourself to…” I open my hands and twirl them around in the air, looking for the right way to phrase what I mean.
“Hear it?”
“Yes.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Silence them?” I offer.
“That’s rather bleak, even for me.”
A surprised laugh bubbles out of me. It’snota funny thing to joke about. However, I’ve been known to use macabre humor during difficult times and hearing it from him catches me entirely off guard. He grimaces, but I think it’s a kind of smile. I think he’s amused.
