“Not every northman possesses a block of ice for a brain,” he insisted. “Though I would flatten The Vengoran Mountains for another kiss.”
Inara happily obliged. “There’s no need to reshape the world,” she whispered.
And so the night stretched on, the couple undisturbed. They shared drink and food, their portions no bigger than those which the rest of the camp enjoyed. They talked for hours and nothing of the war or Alijah. Any memories recounted only involved the two of them and often ended in laughter. Vighon was very interested in chatting about their future, one he held great faith in. It seemed he had been dreaming of their life together for many years. Every detail he fantasised about brought a smile to Inara’s face, even the part where they had several children.
And, all the while, he never once dwelled on their most distant future, when most would accept their old age. He only spoke of the fantastic things they would do together and for the realm. In his imaginings, they were young forever.
Inara didn’t correct him; it was all too wonderful to spoil.
Instead, she listened and even contributed, adding fantasies of her own; dreams she had let go of decades ago. They all resurfaced now, her human side coming alive with it all. More than once, Vighon referred to her as queen, a title that took her aback. Like her mother, that was the last title she had ever expected to receive.
It led her down the path of proposals and weddings, events she had witnessed with no intention of experiencing. Now, however, the idea of marrying Vighon Draqaro made her stomach flutter and her heart race. Just the thought of it conjured a picture of happiness she had never imagined.
A hand brushed her cheek, drawing her from the reverie. Vighon’s dark eyes were boring into her, searching for the woman he loved.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“The future,” she replied quietly.
Vighon tilted his head, curiously. “And how does it look?”
Inara looked past any sadness until her mouth shaped into a beaming smile. “It looks good.”
Day had passed into night without notice from Gideon. He had spent most of the day sitting beneath one of the few pines that dared to have taken root on the plains. Lying beside the tree, his head curled under the canopy, Ilargo exhaled warm air across his human companion. The dilemma that had beset them was of intentions, decisions, and actions, all of which plagued their high-minded sense of morality.
Rider and dragon had used much of the day to debate the worst of any life, good or bad. There was no mistaking that Alijah had been corrupted to his core, but that was not to say that he couldn’t yet be saved.
Gideon groaned and let his head rest back against the trunk of the tree. He wouldn’t be the first to be put to death for crimes against the realm, he argued.
But he might be the first redeemable person to commit such crimes, Ilargo countered.
And so their conversation had gone on for many hours. Gideon would question the weight of so many demanding Alijah’s death and whether such a large number was a valid reason for execution, given that most people knew nothing of Alijah Galfrey. Then Ilargo would bring up the matter of duties, especially those of Inara, Vighon, and Reyna, all of whom were expected to uphold the laws of their countries, laws that demanded Alijah’s death.
For every point one would raise, the other had a reasoned conflicting point. It was infuriating.
We are no longer governed by the codes and laws of others, Gideon said, the thought having been lingering on the periphery of his mind all day. We could act on our own will. Accomplish our own goals.
Ilargo’s blue eyes took in the vast camp before settling on Gideon. Acting in such a way brings about an entirely different ethical dilemma. Rogue dragons, and especially rogue Riders, have always been treated with great suspicion and rightly so. We are too powerful to simply roam the world without any allegiance to the rulers of the land.
Then perhaps now is the best time to behave in such a manner; while the realm is in turmoil. We could set out to do what we know is right without fear of reprisals.
I agree that the timing is right, Ilargo replied, but what exactly would we accomplish? We are both aligned when it comes to Alijah - we believe he should be saved over death. But how would we save him? Malliath’s hooks go deep. What could we do to part their minds? And where would we go to accomplish such a deed?
Only an hour earlier, Gideon had found a spark of hope when recalling the ancient runes that had lined his cell in The Tower of Jain. He brought it to the discussion, wondering whether they could replicate them using Ilargo’s perfect memory, but the dragon had quashed any hope.
Where would we place such runes? the dragon had asked. Alijah is waiting us out. There will be no time to use the magic of those runes before magic itself no longer exists. Besides, I believe there was more to those spells than the scrawls that decorated our cells.
Gideon sighed and rubbed his eyes. I can think of no path that leads to sparing Alijah’s life. The old master balled his fist and fought the urge to lash out at the ground. This is all my fault. I should never have tasked Hadavad with recruiting Alijah in the first place. My own actions were all part of The Crow’s plans for him. I just want him back, Ilargo. I want to save that young man who only wished to fight for good.
Ilargo’s eyes sharpened on his companion. The decisions we made came from a good place. The Crow had nothing to do with it; he
