During all this Chloe had come to stand nearby, her lips pursed, her hands on her hips. She practically radiated triumph, a goddess towering over my hunched-up humiliation.
“Oh, get up, Eleanore. I know them.”
I ducked my head to hide my blush and swiveled off the bench. Goddess Chloe took my place, smoothed her dress, and smiled at the room. “ ‘Green Apples,’ did you say?”
I left to roll bandages.
Chapter 15
I was asleep without dreams this time, cradled in a deep and dark silence, when I felt the hand at my cheek.
I sat up and swung out. Armand danced instantly out of range, nimble as a seal in water.
Or a dragon in air.
“Lora!” he whispered, both palms held out, staying well back. “It’s me! Peace!”
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if this was the beginning of some unlikely new dream.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “It’s time, that’s all. Come on.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to plan, love.”
Lottie emitted a particularly powerful snore; we both glanced at my door.
“Now?” I wasn’t fully awake, nor did I want to be. I was tired. I wanted more sleep.
“It was your idea, remember? Or would you rather keep playing nurse?”
My shoulders sagged, and he nodded.
“Get dressed. Bring a coat. I’ll wait in the hall.”
“What are we—”
“Hurry. There are only so many hours left to hide us.”
We were outside in a place I’d never been before, camped near the border of a tall crumbly cliff, ocean below, the woods rambling behind us thick and untouched. I assumed this was all still part of Armand’s holdings, but I wasn’t sure. All I could tell for certain is that we were miles from both the village and Tranquility, and that Iverson and its isle made a small, lonely blot against the water to the east.
He’d motored us here, guided by nothing more than the hazy starlight (the stars themselves oddly, stubbornly silent behind the haze) and the blurred cream half smile of the moon. Armand had refused to turn on the headlamps. I’d prayed the whole drive that his night vision was significantly better than mine.
He’d brought a blanket, a basket, and me.
The blanket was spread upon the grass, the basket was emptied of its bread and ham and cheese, and I was the one eating and listening and biting my tongue, because he’d made me promise not to interrupt until he was done explaining.
I’d agreed. The honey-smoky fragrance of the ham had been too much to resist.
But now the food was gone and he was done, and I had resorted to staring down at my clenched fingers in my lap.
“That,” I said to my fingers, “is an abysmal plan.”
“What?” He sounded indignant. “No, it isn’t. Which part?”
“All of it, Mandy. You can’t come along, and that’s that. There’s no safe way to keep you with me when I fly—”
“I explained to you about the saddle—”
I straightened. “I am not a horse! And anyway, every time I go to smoke, then what? I’ll tell you: you and the saddle—” I made a plunging motion with my hand. “Straight down to earth. Splat.”
“So you won’t go to smoke while I’m on you. You can take off and land as a dragon, can’t you?”
“No! I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“Aaaand … that’s why we’re here, far from prying eyes. Practice.”
I groaned and flopped back upon the blanket, covering my face with both hands. “You don’t understand!”
He didn’t speak right away, but I felt his gaze. I felt the warmth of him though my new cotton dress and old battered peacoat, though he sat feet away. “Explain it to me, then.”
“I’m not good at it. You know that I’m not.”
“At what?”
I threw my hands back to my sides. The stars shivered in the misty black sky, distant as unspoken wishes.
“I’m not
“A glorious handful,” he said quietly. “A damned brilliant handful.”
“But—”
His voice took on a harsher note. “Don’t be dense, Lora. If I could do this for you, don’t you think I would? I can’t even manage smoke. There’s no hope of
I glanced up at him, hard edges and burning blue eyes, that absolute focus it seemed he had whenever I caught him looking at me. Like I was something shimmering right at the brink of his understanding. A mirage, bright and unbelievable.
“Mandy, I’m saying … that you can’t be with me. This idea of yours, to ride on my back, it can’t happen. If I lose control—if I Turn to smoke or girl in midair—”
“You’ll Turn back and catch me,” he said, calm.
“That’s easy for
“Not really. Frankly, I feel queasy just thinking about it. I’ve never liked heights.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“I should say not. I rather enjoy myself all in one piece. But …” He sighed and pushed his hands through his hair. “Look, waif. This is the way it’s going to be. This is the way it’s
I averted my eyes, then gave in. “No,” I confessed. “French. Very bad French. I’ve only had a couple of months of it.”
“
A salt breeze skated up the cliff and pushed hard against us; the blanket flipped back, covering the empty plates and our feet. He went to his knees to resmooth it.
“That’s not all,” I said, following his hands, his back and arms, pale sleeves rolled up, an economy of grace even in these brisk movements.
“What else?”
It killed me to admit this. “I’m not entirely well yet. Dr. Hembry says I lost a good deal of blood. I still get weak.”
“I know,” he said, and sat back, cross-legged. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed?” He sent me a sidelong look, then knocked his knee against mine. “It’s one of the reasons I’m always feeding you.”
I laughed unhappily. “Nice to know it’s not merely that you think I’m insatiable.”
“No,” Armand said, and turned his gaze out to the mist-clotted sea. “You’re not the insatiable one.”
