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  Ram stares down at the last of the bird bones he’s picked clean. Like me, he ate the smaller bones, crunching them down. Delicious. And a great source of calcium.

  “I promised your father—” he begins slowly.

  “Promised him what?”

  “That I’d bring you home.”

  Right. Paid mercenary bodyguard, or something like that. I’d almost forgotten. I’d begun to think of him as a real friend. But a real friend would have told me the truth instead of waiting for me to hear it from Ion. Maybe Ion’s my real friend. “What if you don’t?”

  Ram hangs his head. Something painful crosses his face. He isn’t going to cry again, is he? It was okay that one time, because his dog died and anyway I was crying then, too, but I don’t know if I can handle much more of the big guy crying.

  I’m slightly worried. “What? Are you going to get in trouble if you don’t bring me home? Or is there something more?”

  “There’s something more.”

  For a panicked instant, I don’t think I can take it. I don’t want to know. But I desperately want to know. I wish I knew already. I don’t want to hear him say it. “What is it?”

  “Your father doesn’t want you to know. He wants it to be a surprise.” Ram blows out a long breath, meets my eyes. His are glowing with something I don’t recognize. It’s not apology this time, at least. Hope, maybe? But that seems weird. He makes his confession without losing eye-contact. “You’re betrothed to a dragon king.”

  Even though I saw this coming, or was forewarned in a dream, or maybe not a dream, or whatever, somehow hearing it from Ram on top of already hearing it and desperately wanting it to not be true, makes it a hundred thousand times worse. I leap to my feet and throw down what’s left of my pheasant carcass. “The bloody hell I’m not!”

  “Shh, Ilsa,” Ram stands and tries to take my hand, but I’m more likely to pull my dagger on him than let him touch me right now.

  “Crusty old cave-dwelling lizard king!”

  “He’s not that bad.”

  “Bloody, bloody hell.” I glare at Ram as he tries to shush me. “Every girl dreams of being swept off her feet by a creepy lizard who’s not that bad!” Yeah, that was sarcasm, in case you weren’t sure.

  But then it’s Ram’s turn to surprise me. He’s laughing.

  “What the bloody hell is so funny?” I know I’ve said some of those words already, but to be honest, I feel slightly better when I use them, so I keep using them.

  “Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Nothing is funny. It’s all terrible, really.”

  “You’ve gone daft in the head,” I accuse him.

  “I have,” Ram acknowledges freely. “I’ve been fearing all this trip how you’d react when you found out, and now I’ve told you, and the pressure’s off.”

  “But I bloody well the bloody hell am not going to marry anyone, especially not some ancient dragon geezer.”

  “Right.” Ram sobers slightly. “Ilsa, do you really not want to go home?”

  I make a face. “I don’t know. I thought I wanted to go home when I was far away. But the closer I get, the more I learn that makes me want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction.” I’m not sure whether I should stay fighting mad with Ram, or if I should be glad that he actually told me the truth instead of dragging me off to the lizard king with no warning of the fate that awaited me. And maybe he would have if Ion hadn’t tipped me off.

  But he told me the truth. That part seems to stick out above the rest, especially given that it was my uber-secretive father who tried to hide the truth from me in the first place. Ram defied him by telling me. It’s almost as though Ram’s more on my side than my father’s side. That’s something.

  Ram sighs. “Has nothing good come of this trip, then?”

  I fling my arms wide, shrugging dramatically. “I found out my dad keeps secrets from me, but then, I already knew that. You? It’s been a terrible trip for you. Your dog died, you’ve been attacked and pushed to exhaustion, and you’re probably going to disappoint my father by not delivering his daughter.”

  “It hasn’t been a terrible trip.”

  “Hasn’t it? Your dog died.”

  “True. That was a blow. But don’t blame yourself—she was very old. She went down the way she wanted, saving someone she loved. And I don’t mind being attacked, or the exhaustion. Overall, I’d say it’s been a great trip.”

  “You’re being sarcastic,” I accuse him, though I’m not sure. He sounds like he’s being honest, even heartfelt.

  “I’ve enjoyed myself immensely.”

  “You haven’t.”

  “I have.”

  “What made the trip good?”

  Ram grins. Remember, this is the guy who never grins, or only that one time when I got the hang of the butterfly maneuver to butcher the steaks and also, as it turns out, to decapitate the yagi. When Ram grins, it means something. I’m not sure what it means, but something, something big.

  The moon is up, nearly a quarter full, so even though the sun has set, there is still light to see. And here in the mountains the air is crisp and clear. “You are bluffing, then,” I accuse him.

  But he’s still grinning almost like he can’t help it, and he shakes his head.

  I prod further. “There’s been nothing good. It’s all been bad to worse.”

  “All of it?” He asks, and now his smile is a knowing smile with a secret behind it, and he calls my bluff and I realize maybe there have been a few good things.

  Like waking up on his shoulder this morning in the abandoned castle in the foothills. And the moment I realized he’d taught me the butterfly maneuver so I could decapitate yagi. And, all right, yes, holding tight to his back while he flew me through the starlit sky. That was magical.

  But I don’t dare tell him any of that, because it all had to do with him. I can’t very well admit all the good parts were because of him—especially since I’m supposed to be mad at him for keeping secrets from me, and there’s every possibility I might take up Ion’s offer and run away from him yet.

  “Ilsa? Anything good?”

  “Maybe,” I admit, quickly turning defensive, shining the spotlight back on him. “What was good about the trip for you?”

  “Getting to know you better.” He speaks the words clearly, his eyes on mine for only a fraction of the phrase, and then he ducks his head as though embarrassed and walks away.

  I watch him kick off his shoes and peel off his shirt, getting ready to change into a dragon. Is it just me, or did he get suddenly shy?

  Ram, shy? I guess I’d already figured out he doesn’t like using words as much as he likes communicating with his face. But shy? He seems too invincible, with his massive muscled shoulders too wide to fit through doorways, and the rest of him, all strong and trim and so very fine looking in boxer shorts. He’s a way better butcher than I am, and a way better dragon.

  And his favorite part of the whole trip was getting to know me better? Getting to know me was enough to make up for losing Azi?

  I review the trip in my mind. My favorite parts were all Ram. And maybe that’s the thing that terrifies me the most about this dragon king plan. I like spending time with Ram. And I don’t want to give that up.

  I hoist my backpack onto my back and walk over near him. “Hey, Ram?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If we ever get to the village, am I going to still see you?”

  Ram turns to face me and pulls his backpack on. He’s looking at me, but his face is unreadable. “I come from another part of the mountains. My home is not far, less than half a day’s journey by foot.”

  My mouth drops open and I’m about to protest that it’s too far, and I don’t want to be so far from him, but he raises his hand in that signal that says he has something to say. Rather than talk over him and risk that he might decide not to say these words at all, I remain silent.

  Ram speaks. “When I spoke earlier, I was out of line. Please forget I said
that.”

  “Said what?” I’m nearly sure I know what he’s referring to, but I want to be certain, and anyway, it seems weird that he would claim it was out of line for him to say he enjoyed getting to know me better. I mean, it’s a nice, pleasant, un-offensive thing to say, right? Unless it hints at something deeper, which his embarrassment suggests it does.

  Ram hangs his head, which is a tad ironic—I mean, this is the strong guy who can fly through the air with me on his back, can decapitate a dozen yagi in under a minute (not that I’ve actually timed him, but I bet he could), whose biceps are as big around as my thighs—and I don’t have twiggy thighs. But he doesn’t throw his weight around to get his way. And right now, he seems genuinely ashamed of stepping out of line.

  “I said I enjoyed getting to know you. I should not have spoken so boldly.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, too.” I expect my words to cheer him up, but he only looks more miserable. Why? Is the paid bodyguard not supposed to make friends with the princess? Is it dishonoring to the dragon king I’m betrothed to? Bloody dragon king.

  “Let’s get going. We should be able to fly as far as the Black Sea tonight.”

  I have a thousand things I want to say and ask, but Ram’s right. We need to go.

  “Can I try changing into a dragon again?”

  “Do you want to be a dragon?” Ram asks the same old question I’m so sick of hearing.

  But I’ve thought of something that might help. “Tell me how you felt the first time you changed into a dragon.”

  A wistful smile peeks out from behind his beard. “I was four.”

  “A little younger than I am,” I note when he falls silent.

  “I’d seen my parents as dragons before. They were strong, mighty, beautiful. I thought there was nothing better in all the world, no greater thing. I wanted so much to be like them, to be able to fly as they did. My father thought I was too young, but my mother said if he didn’t teach me to change properly, I might do it myself some time and get into trouble, fly too high or get lost or something. So my father made me promise I would only change with him.”

  Ram shrugs. “I’ve told you the rest. He held my hands, pressed his forehead to mine.”

  As he speaks, Ram takes my hands, touches his forehead to mine, and I try to feel it—his excitement, the joy of a four-year-old who wants nothing more than to be like his parents.

  We stand like that for how long, I don’t know, when I open my eyes enough to peek. Ram’s hands are still gripping mine. His arms are blue-tinged, his fingernails long like talons, tipped in royal blue.

  And so are mine. My fingernails have grown long and sharp, and the flesh of my fingers is tipped in a violet hue of purple. I’m so surprised, I gasp aloud.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ram opens his eyes.

  My hands go back to normal, and so do his.

  “I’m not a dud.” I’m panting. Wow, that is exhausting—and I didn’t really change, not much. “I was starting to change. I was doing it.”

  Ram’s breathing heavily, too. He rubs his temples. “I was trying not to change without you. I’ve never transformed so slowly.” He winces as though in pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I’m fine. Just a bit of headache. Did you want to try again?”

  “Let me catch my breath.” It’s exhilarating, but also terrifying.

  Maybe the terrifying part is why, when we try again, nothing much happens. Or maybe it’s because of my exhaustion, which seemed to erase all the sleep I’ve gotten in the last two days, and the meals I’ve eaten, as well.

  And I didn’t even turn more than my fingertips. What would happen if I turned all the way? I can’t imagine.

  That doesn’t help my fear.

  So Ram changes, alone, and I climb onto his back and hold on tight, burying my face against his neck as he flies, my thoughts mournful as I wonder what lies on the other side of the Black Sea. But I don’t have to worry about the eastern shore of the Black Sea until we get over the Carpathian Mountains to the western shore of the Black Sea.

  Ion said he’d be waiting for me there, that he’d help me if I need his help. And Ion was right about the secret Ram and my father were keeping from me—their plans to marry me to a dragon king. Vomit.

  Too soon, we land, and I’m still undecided. The day is just beginning to dawn beyond the sea. Ram changes, exhausted, into human form, gasps something about going in search of food, and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

  I’m not alone for long.

  Ion peeks warily out from behind a rock formation. We’re in a remote area, on cliffs that jut over the Black Sea. It might be picturesque, but it’s also dangerous, with sharp rocks jutting up among the waves below.

  I step toward him, hoping he can stay mostly hidden so Ram doesn’t see him. “You were right about my betrothal,” I confess in hushed tones.

  “Sorry about that. For your sake, I wish it wasn’t true. But at least now you know.”

  “Yes. At least I know.” In some ways I’m glad I know, but I also suspect that was part of what held me back and kept me from changing to a dragon last night. I was so close.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t decide. I’ve only ever wanted to go home, but…” I chew my lower lip. I can’t confess to Ion what I don’t want to admit to myself—that I have feelings for Ram. I don’t want to leave him behind. I feel safe with him, and understood, and even kind of happy. But if he’s going to be half a day’s journey away, and I’m going to be married off to some horrible lizard, what good will it do me to go home?

  “It’s not the same as going back to being a kid, is it?” Ion gives me a look which I think is supposed to be sympathetic, but there’s something disingenuous about it, almost as though he’s trying not to gag on his own words.

  “I didn’t expect it to be.” I shrug. “Look, Ram just went to find supper. He’ll be back soon.”

  “We should hurry, then.” Ion takes my hands.

  I freeze. “Hurry?”

  “And leave before he gets back.”

  “I never said I was leaving.” I’m tempted to pull my hands away from Ion, but I don’t want to start a fight with him. Not when I’m alone. He’s bigger than I am, and a better fighter. But neither am I going anywhere with him, not against my will.

  Ion hangs his head. It’s similar to Ram’s apologetic pose, but at the same time, I’m acutely aware Ion hasn’t let go of my hands. He’s not squeezing them, but his hold is tenacious, nonetheless. “They’re going to marry you off.”

  “That’s the plan, but—”

  “We’ve got to leave before that happens. I can hide you where they’ll never find you.”

  This thought is not comforting to me, but I don’t say so out loud. I don’t want him to think I want rid of him, because I know what happened the last time I tried to push him away. I’ve got to put him off, play for time. “Just wait, okay? We’re going to stay here for now and rest. I’ll talk to Ram. If I need your help, I’ll find you. Okay?”

  Ion looks like he’s going to protest, to push his proposition further, but I hear Ram’s voice as he returns from the hunt.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d find much, but I caught a brace of ducks.” Ram steps into the clearing holding headless waterfowl in both hands.

  I glance back toward Ion, but he’s gone.

  “Are you all right?” Ram squints at me. “You look flushed.”

  “Fine. Tired. Need help with the ducks?” I’ve been glad to see Ram many times before, but never so palpably. Relief rushes to my head. Ram is back. Ion didn’t carry me off. I’m okay.

  For now.

  “Peel ‘em,” he says, handing me a fistful of limp birds.

  I set the pile on the grass and watch as Ram demonstrates the process—holding the loose skin around the neck, then pulling it back, down the body and over the feet.

  “It’s faster than pl
ucking out the feathers,” he explains.

  I follow his example, finishing up the last of the birds as he begins gutting and then roasting the first. The roast duck smells great, but my stomach is still churning from my conversation with Ion.

  Ram props a sturdy stick horizontally between two rocks. As he finishes cooking each bird, he ties their feet around the stick to keep them off the ground. In short order, he’s flame-broiled eight ducks. “Eat.”

  I take a duck and pick at it. The meat is delicious, and I’m hungry, but my appetite is ruined by anxiety.

  Ram finishes off his first duck before I’ve swallowed two bites.

  “What?” He asks me, tipping his face with concern.

  The sun is up now and I can see his expression clearly. He looks tired, but also worried. About me? Most likely. Part of me says I should tell him about Ion’s presence nearby, but another part of me thinks they’ll only fight. Ram could get hurt. No, I took care of Ion for now. No need to start a fight.

  And it’s not like I’m short on worries to confess. “I don’t want to marry the dragon king.”

  Ram had bit into another duck while I debated what to say. Now he chews and swallows. “Maybe you should wait until you’ve been introduced to him before you make that decision.”

  “Maybe I should have been introduced to him before anyone started making wedding plans.”

  “He’s not an awful old lizard, or dinosaur, or whatever else you’ve called him. Don’t vilify him until you’ve met him. Would your father set you up with someone awful?”

  “My father sent me to live at Saint Evangeline’s.”

  “Ouch.” Ram stops gnawing on the duck and steps in front of me. He looks directly into my face. “Want me to tell you about him?”

  “I don’t know. Mostly I want him to not exist.”

  “Reserve judgment, if you can. He’s a very nice king. His people are quite fond of him.”

  “Who’s he king of?”

  “A tribe of Azeris. In modern terms he would equate more with a regional governor, but his kingdom is what it has always traditionally been. He and your father would like to unite those kingdoms under one family.”