Chapter 40 Walking the Dragon
After an hour or two of reading, I start to think I might actually turn into one of these armchairs. I’ve read the same paragraph three times, not because it’s interesting, but because I can feel his eyes on me again. The dragon king hasn’t moved from his spot near the fire, and I swear he hasn’t blinked once.
I close the book slowly and look up. “You know, you’re terrible at pretending not to stare.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “I wasn’t pretending.”
I blink. “Wow. Bold.”
A tiny smile ghosts across his lips, there and gone again. I sigh, lean back, and stretch my arms above my head until my spine pops. “Okay, I’ve been cooped up for way too long in my life, and now that I have the option of freedom, I’m taking it. How about a walk?”
His brow furrows slightly. “A walk?”
“Yes, a walk,” I repeat, swinging my legs off the couch. “You know, that thing where people use their legs and touch grass?”
“I know what a walk is.”
“Good, because we’re going on one.”
He hesitates, clearly trying to decide if I’m serious. “You wish to go outside? Now?”
“Unless you have, I don’t know, visiting hours?”
“I just thought…” He trails off, uncertain. “It’s cold.”
I grin. “I’m literally made of ice. I think I’ll manage and you...well, you'll probably warm the grounds with all that heat.”
He opens his mouth to argue again, but I cut him off with a shrug. “Look, I’ve been locked in a tower most of my life. I want fresh air. And you look like you could use some too.”
“I don’t need fresh air,” he says, far too primly for a man who breathes fire.
“Well, I do.” I slide the book back onto the shelf and brush off my dress. “So you can either come with me or stay here and brood. Totally your choice.”
I don’t wait for his answer. I just start walking toward the door, pretending I know where I’m going. My boots echo on the marble floor, and sure enough, a few seconds later, I hear the soft yet heavy footfalls behind me.
I glance back with a grin. “See? I knew you wanted some fresh air.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You have no idea where you’re going.”
“Well, no,” I admit cheerfully. “But that’s why I have a tour guide.” And before he can protest, I walk up to him and slip my hand through his arm.
He stops dead in his tracks. Again. I tilt my head, looking up at him. “Are we going to have another freeze moment? Because I’d really like to get this walk started before I die of old age.”
His jaw works like he’s trying to form a sentence, then gives up entirely. “You are…”
“Charming? Delightful? A menace to the natural order?”
He exhales slowly. “Persistent.”
“Close enough.”
We make our way through the long corridors, the hush of the castle settling around us. The moment we step out into the open, the cold air bites at my cheeks. Snow flurries swirl lazily through the air, dusting the stone steps and the bare branches of trees.
“See?” I say, spreading my arms. “Perfect walking weather.”
Damien glances skyward, his breath fogging faintly. “It’s snowing.”
“I like snow.”
“I gathered.”
We start down one of the cobblestone paths leading through the gardens. What’s left of the wedding decorations still cling to the railings — silken ribbons, half-frozen flowers, a few candles long since extinguished. The sight makes something twist inside my chest.
“Guess all of this was supposed to be your big day, huh?” I say quietly.
His expression doesn’t change, but his shoulders tense. “Yes.”
“Sorry,” I say after a beat. “That was probably… not the best thing to bring up.”
“It’s fine.” His tone is calm, practised. Too practised. We keep walking. The gardens stretch out before us; they're beautiful even in winter, though quiet in that sad, forgotten way. As we pass one of the outer courtyards, a few staff members catch sight of us. Their conversations stop. They bow quickly and step aside, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. One woman crosses herself like she’s warding off evil.
I slow, watching them disappear into a side path. “Does that… always happen?”
His jaw tightens. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“They’re scared of you.”
“They have reason to be.”
I study him for a long moment. The way his posture stiffens when people look at him, how his voice dips lower when he says things like that.
“That must be hard.”
He glances down at me, something unreadable in his gaze. “It is… inconvenient.”
“That’s not what I said.”
He exhales. “It is difficult, yes. But it’s easier than what came before.”
“What came before?”
He hesitates. “When I wasn’t feared, I was loved for the wrong reasons. People loved the crown. The castle. The power. Not the person.”
There’s something about the way he says it that makes me soften despite myself. “That’s not love,” I say.
“No,” he agrees. “It isn’t.”
We walk in silence for a while after that, the only sound the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional rustle of wind. I can feel him relax, just a little. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s me. I don’t know.
Eventually, I glance at him sideways. “You know, you could tell them to stop bowing like that. You’re their king.”
“I have. They don’t listen.”
“Then maybe they need to see you being… I don’t know, normal.”
“Normal,” he repeats, like it’s a foreign word.
“Yeah. You know, less terrifying beast, more socially awkward book club attendee.”
He almost chokes on a laugh. “You think that would help?”
“Absolutely. No one’s scared of a man holding tea and gossiping about literature.”
“I don’t gossip.”
“Not yet,” I say with a grin. “But give me time,” I tell him, patting his arm. We circle back toward the castle slowly, the light beginning to dim as snow thickens in the air. When we reach the steps, I let go of his arm, brushing off the flakes that have gathered on my sleeves. “Thanks for the tour, dragon king.”
He bows his head slightly. “You led it.”
“Well, yeah. But you looked like you needed the exercise.”
His mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. “You are insufferable.”
“See?” I say, heading for the door. “We’re making progress. You’re using adjectives again.”
I catch him watching me as I walk inside, that same strange look in his eyes — somewhere between curiosity and something warmer. Something I can't help but feel is hazardous to my adventure plans. And for reasons I can’t explain, I can’t stop smiling all the way back to my room.