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“You’re just bitter,” Harper said, sticking her chin up and surprising even herself with her audacity. “Can’t be helped that some folks have privilege and others don’t. Believe me, I know the hard truth of it, but it doesn’t mean those with privilege are all bad. It doesn’t mean the king is bad, or that the Winged Kingsguard are all old, fat, lazy, and have no morals. I want to be a dragon-rider, or a warrior—somebody better than the nobody I’ve been all my life. Plus, I won’t be like that. It’s not in my nature. So at least there’ll be one good one.”
“Suit yourself,” said Aedon, more coldly than she had expected. He and Brand strode ahead in silence, leaving Harper to walk on her own.
“You really want to go to the King?” Aedon asked her that night as they sat around a small fire.
Harper tensed. “I do.”
Erika huffed and shook her head. “Foolish,” she muttered. Harper pretended she hadn’t heard. Ragnar pursed his lips in silent disapproval, and Brand didn’t move a muscle. Harper massaged her aching wrists. Before their evening meal—skewers of some unidentified, tangy meat—she had sparred with Brand and practiced her footwork.
“You want to do that over helping us?” Aedon pressed.
“I’m no help,” Harper insisted, shrugging. “I’m an extra pair of hands and another mouth to feed. I’d be more of a hindrance than anything. I’m no good at fighting, or magic, or anything you Pelenori value, so is it really such a problem if I don’t stay with you?”
When they all shared a look, Harper scowled, frustrated by the unspoken words running between them that she was not privy to.
Aedon looked at her, his expression inscrutable, until she squirmed and dropped her gaze. “I thought we had made ourselves clear, Harper, but perhaps not. Look, I think it’s a really bad idea. We all do.”
He reached out to grasp her hand, squeezing it, his worried gaze searching hers. Harper swallowed. She tugged away, determined not to be distracted. “But how will I return home? If it truly is the only place I can find answers and a way to return home—or a better life for myself—where else can I go? Why should I not go?”
“Sure, we said that,” Aedon replied, slowly nodding, “but remember, we’ve also warned you that you will be thought of as a thief first. You don’t know the punishment, do you? Trust me, it’s not a quick death.”
“But I’m innocent. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that, then they’ll have to listen to me and send me ho?—”
“They don’t have to listen to anything you say, and they won’t,” Aedon snapped. “Before you can say ‘Dragonheart’, you’ll be in irons.” Aedon huffed, glancing around at the others for support. “Come on. Help me out here. She’s so… stubborn!”
“I know someone else like that.” Brand sniggered quietly, glancing at Erika.
“I’m not stupid, though,” Erika said bluntly. She glared at him in return, then at Harper, her eyes full of disdain.
Harper scowled at Erika, but before she could retort, angry words jumbling thick and hot on her tongue, Ragnar spoke. “We welcomed you into our group,” he said quietly. The disappointment in his voice cut to her core, quenching the anger that had arisen at Erika’s coldness.
“We shared our food, our hearth, and all else we had with you—even our quest. We are grateful you assisted us in the village, but so much more is at stake. We need every pair of hands we can get, and yours have far more value than you think, even to us Pelenori people.”
Aedon bared his teeth at her. Harper flinched and cast her gaze aside.
“It’s a betrayal,” said Erika. “Now you know what’s at stake, you ought to stay and help us. Do you know what an asset you would be to us with a Dragonheart?”
“Erika,” Aedon said sharply, but she continued.
“It’s selfish to walk away, to throw yourself on the mercy of a king who will kill you for treason and take your Dragonheart in a heartbeat. You will never see your home again if you follow that path. Only death.”
“Erika,” Aedon cut her off, then turned back to Harper. “You know we run on the wrong side of the law. I hope you’ve realised we’re not the criminals you thought at first and that we have a critical task at hand. We need your help. We’d be honoured for you to continue with us. You might not yet have magic or be proficient at fighting, but you have other skills that are equally as valuable. Please, stay with us.” She opened her mouth, but he raised his hand. “At least consider it.”
Harper nodded. The group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Harper did not want to laze around the fire a moment longer. She rose and strode from camp.
“Don’t stray far,” Brand called after her.
She raised a hand in acknowledgment and kept walking.
What was worse? Erika’s disdain? Brand’s unfathomable silence? Ragnar’s disappointment? Aedon’s frustration? Harper did not know. And what should she do? She did not know that either. The alternative—pleading with the king to send her back to Caledan or to train her as a warrior—seemed equally ridiculous when she truly thought about it. Her heart sank.
43
AEDON
Aedon paced back and forth around the fire. Wanting to follow Harper—and not, at the same time. His blood ran hot with frustration and he saw no way out of this that ended well.
“What’s to be done with her?” Brand asked gruffly, folding his muscled arms over his chest.
