“No,” I said, just as Nilsa said, “Yes.”
“Come on.” I frowned. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“I would certainly hope not, but…” Nilsa sighed. “Well, we don’t actually know him very well, do we? He’s a stranger from the mainland, and he vanished right before that fire started. I really like him, Lilia, but tell me I’m wrong in thinking he could have done it.”
“Youarewrong. Because it doesn’t make any sense. There’s no reason for him to burn down the entire festival,” I argued.
“Are you certain?” Steffon folded his arms. “Like Nilsa said, none of us know him. What if he’s involved with something that made him do this?”
I opened my mouth but no words came out. Surely that couldn’t be true. If it was, everything he’d told me had been a lie. All the moments we’d shared—fake.
And perhaps they were right. He’d never told me exactly why his brother owed someone such a big debt and why it was so important for him to go back. Perhaps the fire had something to do with that.
But I couldn’t bring myself to believe it.
A pounding ripped through the silence. We all turned toward the door. I almost expected Ragnar to burst through that very moment, as if our conversation had summoned him here.
Nilsa eyed the door warily. “I suppose I better open it. People are going to need some food and shelter tonight.”
“I’ve got Tomas coming round soon to help keep things orderly,” Steffon said, frowning. “We’ll get everyone to line up and come inside one by one. If anyone tries to shove anyone else, they’ll get kicked out of Riverwold for good.”
Nilsa nodded. “I’ll see how many of them are out there.”
She minced over to the window and peeked through the curtain. A moment later, she bustled over to the door, shrugging. “It’s only Emil.”
Everyone visibly relaxed. Emil was the kind baker, who I’d originally camped my wagon beside. I trailed over to the table and slumped onto the bench while Nilsa cracked open the door and motioned him inside. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he pointed a crooked finger at me.
“It’s her. She’s the problem,” he said, slowly stalking across the taproom. The few patrons scattered around the tables fell into a tense hush.
“What are you talking about?” Nilsa demanded.
“The fire,” he said, his voice wavering. “It was her dragon that did it. I saw him skulking around the woods right before it happened.”
“What?” I shoved up from the bench.
“That’s right,” he said, nodding. “I gave him a chance, Lilia. I said I was fine with him as long as he didn’t bother me and mine, but now he has. Killing things, burning everyone alive, that’s what the dragons once did. And apparently, it’s what they still do.”
All the blood fled from my face. I hadn’t seen Reykur since the incident with Ivar’s wagon. I thought he’d been hiding from all the rain or hunting for food like he often did.
“Hmm, I did forget about your dragon,” Steffon said, rubbing his chin.
“Reykur would never burn anyone alive,” I said hotly.
“I would just like to point out thatno onehas burned anyone alive,” Herold said calmly.
“Yes, well, no thanks to that dragon,” Emil said, narrowing his eyes. “I doubt he knew that most everyone washerebanging down Nilsa’s door for food and drink.”
“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t do it,” I insisted.
Steffon frowned. “You also said Ragnar wouldn’t do it. So which is it? Ragnar or your dragon? One of them must have started the fire.”
I looked from Nilsa to Herold and then back to Steffon again. No one said a thing. I supposed they truly believed one of them had started the fire.
My hands clenched. “Fine. What is it you’d have me do?”
Steffon shook his head sadly. “When word gets out about your dragon, everyone will assume the worst. They’ll go after him, Lilia. They’ll want to run him far, far away from here. How do you think he would handle that? Would he protect himself?”
“You’re asking me if he would retaliate with his fire,” I said flatly.
