Her throat went dry. She tore her gaze away.
But the bed filled the space beside her, and that was no good. The emptiness beyond the glass wall didn’t help either. She couldn’t think about how high up they were. When she looked back, he was watching her in the mirror again.
“Did you know?” he asked.
She found it hard to get her voice working through the heat gushing up her neck, into her cheeks.
“About Kaelan?” he clarified.
Her heart slowed. “That he was your brother? That your father tried to murder him? No. Not until I was dragged before Froenz. Kaelan doesn’t even know—”
She tensed. What had happened to Kaelan? Was he still on that ledge? Did he think her dead? Had Python helped him escape? If so, to where? Or had they both become dragon-dinner?
In the frantic flurry of her thoughts, her hand flew to her pocket. The Enneahedron was still there. Her fingers closed around it.
Endreas watched her closely, causing the heat to spread through her. “It’s good you’ve found the Enneahedron. You’ll need it.”
“You’re going to let me go?”
“No.” He picked up a silver pitcher, pouring water into a simple silver cup. “I’m going to take you back to your Lands, so you can finish this.”
He set the pitcher down, picked up the cup, and held it out to her.
She took it, careful not to touch him—because she wanted to so very badly. The metal pressed cool against her palms and clacked against her sheaths. She drank.
Clear and clean, the water slaked her thirst and refreshed her almost as much as a Prince’s touch.
“But you will have to challenge Lavana without a Prince,” he said.
She set the cup down harder than she’d meant to. “He’s your brother.”
“He is no one to me,” he said. “Except a threat to the peace that we might make.”
She moved away from him towards the dark planes of glass, though she kept her eyes unfocused in an attempt to forget about the heights... about falling, about that recent moment of near certain death.
“What does peace mean to you, Endreas?” she asked, turning back to face him once she’d put a greater distance between them. “If you had jurisdiction over all of Alfheim, what would you do to those who have fled your Realms into Pixie Lands?”
His gaze darkened. “Those who are criminals will be punished.”
“They’re not criminals in the Lands, not by Pixie laws.”
His chest rose and fell visibly as he heaved a deep breath. His jaw hardened as he glared at her.
“And those in exile?” she asked. “Would you pursue them too?” Her skin started to burn again, but not because of her desire for him. “Does your peace come by exterminating everyone who defied your family in the past, who broke your laws? How is killing the oracles, the semargl, driving brownies and imps and fairies from their homes, any less of a crime than killing dragons?”
“The oracles trained the wolf breed of the semargl to hunt dragon eggs,” he growled. “They stole the eggs and raised the young in captivity, cutting off their wings so they could not escape. They chained their mouths so they could not breathe fire. The oracles had to do so, in order to sustain themselves, but they could not force the dragons to breed.” He took another deep breath and poured himself a cup of water. “There are races of small folk who believe they are above others and feel it is their duty to hunt and kill those races they do not like. My family did nothing but cease the slaughter. At least the oracles had a reason for killing dragons. What reason did the dwarfs have for hunting the chimera, or the lion-breed of semargl? None but vanity and pride.”
Her voice was tight in throat. “I hear your reasoning, Endreas. But I don’t think you hear mine. Your laws aren’t ours. Pixies will not simply stand by and allow you to hunt down the small folk, even if they were willing to accept you as a ruler, which they won’t be. I’m beginning to think that your peace only comes by a great deal of slaughter and oppression. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He didn’t though. He just gazed levelly at her. And then, he strode past her. Her frame wavered when he moved by, as if she were a dingy rocking in the wake of his ship.
Pushing open one of the glass doors, he let out a pitched series of whistles. The air outside was cold. It slipped in and brought goose bumps out all over her. She chafed her arms to warm them.
A moment later, a giant tawny-hued lion with gold-edged wings alit on the squat balustrade and then leapt gracefully down onto the wide balcony.
“Good evening, Gur,” Endreas said, leaning against the glass door, holding it open.
Magda shivered as she moved closer, in spite of her dread, and peered around the door casing.
