Of Thorns and Beauty by Elle Madison

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The sun is falling behind the mountains, and I realize this is the first time I have seen a sunset since arriving in Jokith. I can't deny that it is uniquely beautiful, reflecting off the pristine white snow and bathing the treetops in a golden glow.

The igloos around us have multiplied, and it occurs to me that it's a lot of work to put into something temporary. The people don't seem to mind, though.

"How can they see whatever lights these are from inside the igloos?" I asked the king, noting the solid roofs of the dome-like structures.

He chuckles.

"They can't. We gather outside for that."

"Then why..." I don't finish my question, because the answer seems painfully obvious now. They stay the night in these tiny igloos. And likely, we are expected to do the same. I'm not sure what expression flits over my face, but the king takes note of it.

"We don't have to stay," he says in a low tone. "It isn't generally safe to travel at night, but I suspect your usual terrifying expression will be enough to frighten anything that would think to attack us." He throws his head back and laughs.

"Indeed. If not, I'm certain that thing on your face would finish the job." I gesture to his beard with a small laugh of my own.

I see the townspeople shooting as surreptitious glances, and I know I have only one real choice here, despite his words.

"You want to stay, don’t you?"

The corner of his mouth stretches upward as he exaggeratedly shrugs his shoulders. It tells me everything I need to know, and I laugh.

"Then we shall stay."

He smiles, his eyes brimming with unspoken thoughts.

And for all my natural skill and careful tutelage at reading the nuances of human emotion, I can't for the life of me discern his right now.

It's well past sundown, and I haven't seen any of these alleged lights we are all waiting on. Something in my expression must show how I am feeling, because the king shakes his head with a soft laugh.

"I think it's safe to say patience is not one of your many virtues," he comments.

"I'm flattered you think I have many virtues," I respond with a soft laugh of my own. "All I'm saying is, these lights must be very impressive to be worth all this effort." I gesture around me to the hundred or so logs that have been set out around the subtly glowing warm rocks. And beyond that, to the igloos that outline the entire festival.

"Oh, they are unlike anything you have ever seen." Not for the first time, he looks at me when he says that, as though he's talking about something else entirely. Then, he glances around at the camp and up to the sky. "Of course, it's not just the lights. We also come for the dragon."

This is the second time a dragon has been mentioned, and I can't deny that my curiosity is piqued. I raise an eyebrow.

"You don't believe in dragons?" he asks me.

"You have to admit, it does seem a bit far-fetched..." But even as I say the words, my eyes flit to Khijhana, the giant tiger-like animal that grows twice as fast as anything in nature should. I think about the king's wolves, nearly as tall as I am. The Jokithans themselves with their unnaturally long lifespans. And even the Mayima, the race of people who live in the water off the coast of Delphine.

I realize my skepticism is probably misplaced.

"All right," I allow. "Let's assume I do believe in dragons. What would make this one so special?"

He looks around before taking a breath.

"Legend has it that this area used to be filled with dragons, but as the humans came in, the dragons began to leave — or were chased out or eradicated, no one really knows — but of course, the first version is the more romantic tale, the one that has made it down through history."

I find myself nodding along, already caught up in his unlikely skill as a storyteller and unwilling to break the spell of his carefree and open disposition. It’s so unlike his usual closed-off personality.

"No one knows where the majority of them went, but there is one in particular who makes an appearance during the old moon.” He gestures to the sliver of a crescent left in the sky.

“He -- or she," he adds, seeing my expression, "is especially active when the lights are strongest, like during this very festival.”

I cling to each word; whether or not I believe him is irrelevant. I find that I could listen to him talk this way for as long as he is willing.

“It is said that this dragon has the ability to tell a true soul from a tainted one,” he continues. “And that there was a time when the villagers would track it to its cave with their intended to see if they would pass the test."

By now, I am beyond enraptured.

"What happened if they...weren't pure?"

He pauses, arching an eyebrow, his expression full of mischief as he takes another long draught of his eiswein.

"They were eaten," he finally says as if it's the most natural answer in the world and not at all gruesome or awful.

I let out a surprised trill of laughter at his nonchalant tone.

"Oh, is that all?" I say between chuckles. "Perhaps I should have brought you there then," I intend the words as a joke, but they sober me up quickly.

The more I learn about the king, the more I wonder if he would've passed the test. Whereas, I know beyond all shadow of a doubt that I would be little more than dinner for a dragon.

If the king notices my disquiet, he doesn't comment. He only chuckles along.

"That would certainly have been one way to get out of this marriage," he allows.

"There's still time," I grant, trying to pull myself back into the amusement of the moment.

He stiffens, his expression morphing from contented to something else entirely.

“Do you really want out of this so badly?” he asks, his tone taking on a more somber note.

I pause, unsure of how to answer for both him and me.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t press for a response, looking around again at the rest of the villagers. I look with him when something that has been nagging at the back of my mind once again occurs to me.

"What about the people in your castle?" I ask, changing the subject.

"You mean, have they gone to the dragon?" He lifts an eyebrow.

I almost smile in response, but I think of how many times he has avoided this line of questioning so far.

"No. I mean, they seem to know plenty about the festival, but they aren't here. You said they couldn't enjoy it." I leave that thought dangling in the air between us, hoping he will respond to it without having to ask a direct question.

He doesn't, of course, so I probe further.

"Are they not allowed to come to the festival?"

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, resignation painting his features. He lifts his eiswein to his lips and takes a long swallow before he finally turns his head to face me again.

"As I told you before, I don't put that kind of restriction on them."

"Then why aren't they here?"

"They don't leave the castle."

I know that the couples and families around us continue to converse, some in low tones and some in loud, slightly inebriated voices. But it feels like a tangible bubble of silence descends with his statement. His words feel so final.

"Ever?" I finally clarify.

He nods.

"For how long?"

He is quiet for so long that I begin to think he is refusing to answer. Finally, he takes another drink, staring straight ahead into the glowing embers of the strange stones when he speaks.

"Seventeen years."

I fight to feel something besides horror. Seventeen years in that castle. That's almost as long as Melodi has been alive. Suddenly, Sigrid’s sadness when she tells me that she knows what it is to be away from the people she cares about makes so much sense. There are many things that make more sense and so many more that don't make any at all.

But where the king had been carefree only moments ago, sadness is now etched into every line of his face, and for all that I am a monster, even I cannot bring myself to ask him more when he has finally revealed so much. This night means something to him. And though these are answers I have wanted, I suddenly hate myself even more than usual for putting that expression on his face.

The visceral emotion frightens me, because he is far from the first person I have hurt, and I doubt he will be the last. Why should his pain matter more than anyone else's?

But it does.

So instead of questioning him further, I find myself stretching out my hand and placing it over his.

"Thank you for bringing me here tonight,” I say quietly, and he entwines his fingers with mine.

The sky is growing darker, and couples are scooting closer to one another as we wait for what will happen next.

“So, why did you come this time?” For reasons I can't explain to myself, I hold my breath for his answer.

“Well, you did announce that we were going to my entire court.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Is that the only reason?” It has been half a lifetime since I let my curiosity get the better of me this way.

He studies my face for a long moment, but he is saved from making a response by a gasp going through the villagers around us.

He flips his hand over to encircle mine and squeezes it, his open eagerness almost childlike in this moment as he gestures for me to glance to the sky.

When I follow his gaze, it steals my breath away. It's like the sky is putting on a show for us. Subtle at first, then sharper in clarity. Lights brilliantly twinkle in a pattern I can’t guess at. Bright, shining columns of green fading into a purple that is more subtle but no less breathtaking.

The lights flow like waves on the sea, gently swaying but far more striking.

A quiet settles over us like a blanket, while everyone watches in awe at nature's spectacle.

This may easily be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

That is, until the dragon appears.