He was worried, I supposed, given how dramatically I’d reacted to it all.
“Or sometimes,” he continued, “if a human who’s important to a dragon is very sick, the dragon will give them blood, because it might heal them.”
“We can heal people?” She frowned at the idea, biting her lip and clearly considering a run down to the healer’s, to offer to open a vein and help out.
“It’s very dangerous to do. Dragon’s blood is a last resort. And sometimes, the person we give the blood to, they get addicted. Like... like people who can’t stop drinking alcohol. They start to need the blood, just to live their lives.” He made a face that was almost... was it sad? Did he feel bad for Roland?
Hafgan had only seemed angry, and Bowen... well, he was the only other dragon I knew who had been bled against his will to feed human avarice.
Not that I thought Roland avaricious.
No, Roland would never be anything but loving and beautiful and wonderful.
But I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t bleed for a human to drink. Just the thought of it made me tremble and want to be sick. So, I supposed, I didn’t love Roland enough. I couldn’t give him children, and I couldn’t give him my blood.
I couldn’t be enough for him.
“So Roland needs dragon blood?” Rhiannon looked between me and Bowen a few times, her little face screwed up with some combination of confusion and worry. “But that means we shouldn’t leave, doesn’t it? If... if you can’t do it, I can do it. I’m sure I’ve got some extra.”
The door to one of the bedrooms slammed, and we all looked up to see Hafgan standing there, eyes blazing with pure fire. I was afraid he was going to combust right then and there, or rush off to yell at Roland, which was the last thing anyone needed.
Perhaps, I thought, even if I didn’t want to leave. Even if Roland didn’t need someone other than me. Maybe we should leave, for Hafgan.
Bowen shot me a look, then a glance at Rhiannon, and he rose and went to Hafgan, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back into their bedroom. I hoped he could help him, but given my brother’s mood, I wasn’t sure what could.
But if there was anything, Bowen would know it.
Bowen was perfect. Strong and calm and soothing like no one else.
And he’d clearly given me an assignment: take care of Rhiannon.
So I turned to her. “You don’t need to give Roland blood. You don’t ever need to give anyone blood. In fact, you shouldn’t. No human should ever have dragon blood. They gave it to Roland to save his life, and it worked, but look what’s happened. It’s made everything harder now.”
“But he’s alive. And... he’s Roland. We have to help him if we can, don’t we?” She curled herself against my side, clinging to my waist and staring up at me.
But that wasn’t right. Rhiannon wouldn’t—couldn’t—ever bleed for Roland. Because then he wouldn’t be Roland anymore. No, Hafgan was right. We should go. At least we needed time, I needed time, to figure out what was happening in my own mind.
15
ROLAND
Iwatched them leave from a tower.
That was easier for everyone. Aderyn wouldn’t have to see me pitiful, to doubt that what he was doing was right.
I wouldn’t have to say goodbye.
Logic told me this might not be final, but something had broken nonetheless.
Because I didn’t have the stomach to stare directly into the face of all I’d lost, I sent Tris and Bet to see them off, and Tristram’s mother accompanied them.
Lady Elinor was well liked even in difficult times, but her presence wasn’t enough to ease the clear tension between Hafgan and Tris. Even from so high up, it was obvious in the set of their shoulders and the careful, wary distance they kept from each other.
I wondered how the other dragons would feel when they found out—how Maddox might respond, and if Gillian would look at me with suspicion now, keep the twins from me.
She’d be wise to, and my aunt had a penchant for choosing correctly.
Hiding out in the tower, I wasn’t entirely alone. Rather than join his small family on the snowy lawn, Rhys was at my side.
