Page 44 of Connor and the Dragons

“That can wait. Kessrin needs us.”

I did not know what he had seen. Was it my face? Was I pale, or was there ice in my hair? Was that what everyone in that building had been staring at all evening? I ran my thumb over my own knuckles and found them cold, but my knuckles are always cold.

“I do not require extra attention,” I said quietly.

Oallian, who had been bouncing on his heels since the Hall’s front steps, went still. He stood by the door with his eyes moving between Connor and me. Then he stepped a little closer to me and said, in a small careful voice, “Would you like a hug?”

“I would like to hang up my cloak,” I said, not looking at them. “And get some rest.”

Neither of them argued with me, which, with two born arguers, was a little alarming. We shed our cloaks and removed our boots, and Connor lit the lamp on the dresser, while I reached for the one on the nightstand.

It simply froze. A small tongue of fire, mid-flicker, cased in ice like an insect in amber, and the lamp glass went white with frost, until a crack formed in it, the snap echoing through the room.

“Right,” Connor said.

“Are we still supposed to be pretending he’s okay?” Oallian whispered, too loud, as always.

Connor shook his head, then took my hand and led me to the bed and sat me down on the edge of it, and then he knelt in front of me, on the floor, between my knees. He took my hand in both of his. Behind him, without a word, Oallian sank down to sit on his heels, and folded his hands in his lap, like he was reporting for duty.

“Eyes on me, Kess,” Connor said.

I looked at him.

“Tell me what’s happening in your head.”

“Nothing that requires attention. I am well.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Try again.”

I blew out a breath. “It has been a long evening. I am tired.”

“Kess.” He didn’t raise his voice. He turned my hand over and pressed his thumb into the center of my palm, slow, massaging the tension out of it as he held eye contact. “Tell me. I need to know exactly what is going on with you.”

It came out in pieces. “All evening, everyone was staring at me, and I was sure they could see what I was, that they’d find a way to take advantage, or to reveal my true nature. Or perhaps they’d capture me.”

“Sweetheart,” Connor said. “Breathe.”

But I couldn’t breathe, I needed to get it all out. “But what if they link me back to her? I am a public figure, perhaps I am known, perhaps the nature of our friendship is known. What if they attack, right when Qoksmere has finally found peace, or what if they capture me and I can’t get back to her and help her find her king. He is missing, you know.”

Connor said nothing, he just let me talk.

“No waiter attends one table that closely without instructions, and then there was the note. We were assessed and approved by someone who we couldn’t see, and was it because they knew what I was?” I asked. “It was designed to be read once and then be unprovable.”

“Which means?”

“That is not hospitality, that is tradecraft. They are covering their bases, and we can’t examine the note to find out if it is a trap.”

“It must have been difficult to hold your ice in.”

“Barely.” The word came out before I could dress it. “Your hand. His warmth. That was the whole of my containment. I was one startled moment from icing a wine glass in front of forty witnesses.”

Connor nodded slowly, thumb still moving on my palm, and asked, gently, the question underneath all his other questions. “And what’s the fear, Kess? The real one. Say it.”

“That they will take me and use me against Delsy.”

Connor’s lips quirked. “Delsy?”

“The Queen,” Oallian whispered, as if that wasn’t obvious.