Page 30 of Heart of Winter
“Ah. Well. Maybe if I go down to the…” He trailed off when Erik shook his head.
“I’ll have something sent up to you.”
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to–”
“I insist.”
“Well.” In the absence of wild tales of mythical creatures, or righteous anger, Oliver slipped back into doubt, and awkwardness. His face was hot, at this point, and it had nothing to do with the fire, and he needed to get away from Erik, now, for his own self-preservation. “Thank you.” He stood.
Erik, still grinning, cocked his head and said, “I might bludgeon my guests to death, but I won’t have it said that I starved them.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes, and Oliver needed torun away.
He managed to twitch a returning smile, and turned for the door, his stomach doing somersaults.
“Mr. Meacham.”
He had to wait, gather a breath, school his features, and pray the way every single muscle had clenched delightfully didn’t show on his face when he turned back.
Erik was serious again, hands clasped together on the tabletop, head inclined to an earnest angle. “I want to apologize,” he said, formally, voice deep as ever. It was if he’d dragged an invisible kingly mantle around his shoulders, and Oliver was struck by the idea that two people were apologizing to him: the King of Aeretoll, and the Erik who’d taught him about dragons with patience and attractive smirks. “I did poorly by you today. I should not have challenged you as I did. It was small of me, and I shamed you. I’m sorry for that.” His chin tucked in obvious, honest contrition.
Oliver’s heart throbbed three hard beats before he could draw a breath. He had to wet his lips before he could speak. “I – thank you. For saying that. I have been – impertinent.”
Erik’s lips curved, faintly.
“I promise I do in fact have good Drakewell manners. I’ll try to employ them more going forward.”
The curve became a true smile. “Don’t on my account.” A teasing note in that deep voice that sent a shiver through Oliver. “My sister’s always saying it’s good for me to be challenged now and then.”
Gods.
“Well, then. Goodnight.”
Erik’s expression softened into one that Oliver couldn’t read at all, but which thrilled him all the same. “Sleep well, Mr. Meacham.”
Oliver felt the weight of his gaze as he turned and left the library, passing between the two guards stationed out in the hall. He was breathless as if he’d run the whole way by the time he reached his room. Hilda was coming out of Tessa’s chamber, and, after glancing at his flustered state in alarm, assured him that the outing had gone well, and that Tessa was fine, though sleepy. Oliver thanked her, went next door to his own room, and thrust his face into the basin of cold water to cool his cheeks.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he scolded himself as he toweled off. “Absolutely ludicrous. He’s aking. And he’s aprick.” He hadn’t been a prick tonight; he’d been nearlycharming. “He certainly prefers women,” he whispered, harshly, gut clenching, “and even if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be his first choice, Meacham. You stupid bastard.”
A knock at the door interrupted his diatribe, and when he opened it, he found a kitchen boy standing in the hall with a laden tray: a cold dinner of sliced roast, bread, and sugared berries for dessert.
“Thank you,” he told the boy, taking it from him, and as he turned back into the room, he noted the book tucked half-under the plate.The Ancient Histories of the Drake Lords, and the Eventual Duchy of Drakewell.
He heeled the door softly shut, and carried the tray to his desk. When he picked up the book, a scrap of parchment fell out, and fluttered to the floor. When he picked it up, he found two handwritten words, the press of the quill strong, the letters bold and slanted, just like the man who’d penned them:keep it. It was signed with anE.
Alone in his room, Oliver didn’t think he could be blamed for passing a fingertip across the letters and smiling to himself.
10
“Dragons?” Tessa asked the next morning over breakfast, goggle-eyed.
Oliver pushed aside his plate, flipped open the book, and turned it toward her on the table. “Dragons.Drakes. Fire-drakes, apparently.”
She wiped her hands clean on a napkin and pulled the book toward her, mouth falling open as she read. “Gods! And they lied to us?”
“I’d wager no one in Drakewell alive today did, because they have no idea of the real history.”
She glanced up with a stunned expression. “Ollie, do you know what this means?”
“Our kingdom is even more corrupt than we thought.”
