“That’s the book,” I said. “Then there’s the TV show.”
Uncertainty grew in his eyes. “The moving images,” he said slowly, his mind racing to piece things together.
“Yes, like a play on a stage but recorded by cameras and shown to people across the world, just like the mass printing of a book. Our problem comes because the people making the television show have decided to change the story.”
“My ending?”
I took a breath. “To understand why, you need to know that while Ironclaw is the main character of the story, the entire series hinges on one aspect of his life. Yes, we see him go on adventures, fall in love with the queen”—Draw flicked his eyes in a kind of angsty roll—“but it’s overshadowed by the fact that his sister, the Lady Bianca, was kidnapped. That’s the real story. The motivation behind everything he does is to search for her—”
“The letter,” Draw groaned. “My cousin is the Dark Mage’s apprentice, isn’t she?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Draw ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Honestly, I was surprised Ironclaw worked this out before him. Perhaps that showed how continuously Ironclaw thought about his sister. Draw and I had talked little of her by design; I didn’t want to accidentally give something away. I got the impression that Draw had mourned his cousin for dead.
“My family...we were all distraught when Bianca went missing. And my mother—did you know she draws?—she drew up a likeness of Bianca. My father circulated prints through the countryside. It’s been so long with no trace of her.” He blinked. “But if Bianca’s still alive, isn’t there any chance of saving her?” His voice lightened with hope.
“That’s the conclusion Ironclaw’s coming to right now. He’s going to trade you to the Dark Mage in return for her safety.”
––––––––
AS IF THAT WAS TOOmuch to take in, Draw laid back on the bedroll, blanket mussed beneath him, legs dangling off the side and across his rug. I sat upright next to him. It was late, but I couldn’t leave him. Now more than ever I wanted to stay, but I also needed to be present for his own protection. I could practically hear Draw’s mind humming next to me, digesting the fact that his cousin would betray him, that he could be dead soon.
“I told you he never liked me.” Draw sighed. “I didn’t expect him to sell me to a malicious wizard, you know, but the seeds were there.”
“We’re going to figure this out,” I said. “We’ll talk to the queen—”
“She might think a trade is a fine idea,” he said softly, offhandedly, but I could tell it was a real worry to him. “If giving up one person ultimately saves lives...”
“Keep people around, then. Ironclaw can’t kidnap you if everyone’s watching.”
I lay down next to Draw. He took my head on his arm.
Hmm.
“Your bed is more comfortable than mine,” I said.
His shoulder shook with silent laughter. “You poor dear. You only have the military kit, don’t you? When you travel on these campaigns, one thing you learn quick is to bring your own bedding.” He tsked and I got the sense he was relieved to have something to think of other than the danger Ironclaw posed. “Or,” he said lightly, “you’re welcome here.”
“I won’t ever let him take you.”
Draw brought his spare hand to my stomach and traced the fabric there.
“Mmm. And I have all this training now. Perhaps I’ll challenge him to a duel.”
I sat up on one elbow, my hair falling in a blanket over my shoulder. I locked my eyes on his. “You can’t give up.” My voice was earnest.
Draw smiled just about the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. He didn’t look worried. Instead, he was calm, reverent. It was as if he’d set aside everything else in his mind but me.
He also came up on his elbow and kissed me. As he did so, he pushed my hair back and ran his hand down my arm, letting it rest at my waist. I felt the end-of-day stubble on his lips and warmth creeping over my neck. My tongue flashed out to meet his, and I felt a pant building up in me.
Though we’d been briefly horizontal in the ruins and then again in this very tent, this felt different. My promise not to leave him, the bargaining he was already doing with what he believed was the time he had left.
I wouldn’t let him give up. I pulled his shirt into my fist and slid my tongue into his mouth. He pivoted to lay half over me, his weight on my chest. I felt spread before him, nearly helpless with my need for him as he kissed me. He broke to smooth my hair back again and put his mouth down by my ear. He licked it slowly and I shivered.
Then he was gone and peeling his clothes off down to his linen shorts. I sat halfway up, and he went before me, between my knees, hands on my ankles to pull off my boots. I watched as he inched my dress up, hands running along my bare calves, then thighs. He knelt and sucked at the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. When he released, I pulled my dress to my hips, past my underwear. I had been determined to wear something that would shock him, so I finally put on the black lace.
Surprise flickered on his face.
