Page 44 of Deadly Maiden

“Don’t blame yourself. Those are indeed the best and most important questions of the night.”

“Are they?” Her little frown line is back.

I nail my hand to my thigh to stop myself touching her face, her trembling mouth.

“I have suggestions as to where to go. Those we can talk about while we walk tomorrow. Stopping the Aos Sin King though—difficult.”

“I thought it would be so. I cannot imagine he will listen to me explaining my innocence. After what happened today, I’m tired and need desperately to sleep, but another question I need to discuss tomorrow is this. You say you will kill me if I do evil, Rorsyd, dragonshifter.”

Oh no. May I be buried in the dung heap of a rhinobear.

“It is my vow.” Our eyes meet.

“What exactly is evil?”

I open my mouth. She said tomorrow, but this should be easy to answer.

Should be, but is it?

“Don’t. Don’t reply. I want more than some shallow, poorly-thought-out answer. This, you owe me.” There is a hardness to her voice.

“I could say?—”

“Shhh.” Then she places her finger over my mouth in a fleeting gesture that nevertheless turns me to stone, because I don’t know how to react.

I’m tempted to bite her finger.

That might wreck everything.

Calm thyself, Rorsyd Targram, this is not the time or the place for such impetuosity. She removes the straying finger.

“Let us sleep then. Tomorrow, I will give you that answer, Wyntre Diamond.” Seated though I am, I give her a small bow.

The sleeping arrangements—how to I discuss this?

Then she stands and casts her gaze about as if she has lost something. “The bedrolls, damn. I left them with the saddles, didn’t I?”

“You did. We can share the blanket?” There it is.

Which is how I end up back-to-back with her, on the grassiest part of the ground, with the cloak under us to stop the twigs and pebbles digging in. Sleeping like this will be difficult. Wyntre begins to gently snore after a few minutes. I find myself strangely content. This is proof she trusts me more than anything else she has said, and it wakes a glow, deep within.

I lie awake half the night, then fall asleep, then wake again to discover we have rolled over and face each other.

And by early morning…I wake to find she’s snuggled into my front, with her rear nudging into me. She’s warm and soft. When I surface properly and realize this, I almost choke. I’m definitely hard, too hard. I move out from under her before dawn truly breaks.

I meditate again, while observing her sleeping.

I remember what Thander Munk said about me helping her ‘on this very long and difficult journey that will test your resolve and your morals’.Those words sounded prophetic. Prophecies are for princesses and heroes. The only princess I’ve known was Jennae, the daughter of King Madlin and Queen Ruelle. She waskilled at the Battle of Orish. I heard King Madlin was sobbing and distraught when he was told of her death—pulled out his hair even.

Wyntre isn’t a princess. Perhaps she will become a hero?

I have such a terrible role here. Twenty years ago, I appointed myself as her judge. Who am I to judge her fate? She is a person, not merely the offspring of two others.

Who am I to so easily forget Orish?

These maudlin thoughts keep me awake. I’m not really meditating, but I am thinking. With my knees up, I prop my forearms on those knees and rest my chin.

What is evil? Is it she? Can it ever be?

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