“Forgive me?” Ronan spoke only after he halted behind Fiona. She was staring out at the shadowed moors and had heard him approaching. He’d steered cleared of her the entire day, giving her room to fume. Now, he meant to make amends.
“Of course I forgive you.” She didn’t look at him. “You should be sleeping. Tomorrow you will not have the chance.”
“I could not sleep with the fear that you were angry at me.” He touched her shoulder.
“Rest easy. I’ve decided that you are right. I should not fight Diato tomorrow night.” She turned and smiled at him. His eyes reflected surprise but also relief.
“Thank you, Fiona. I’m only trying to do what is best.” He told her and she nodded that she understood.
“Go rest now. You shall need your strength.”
Heturned and headed back toward his hut. She watched him until he disappeared through the door. Then she turned, her smile fading.
Her pace was fast and she could already feel her body changing with the adrenalin that pumped in her veins. She would stop Diato. She should have killed him when she had the chance.
Sixteen
Fiona carefully neared Diato’s campsite. Silently she drew her sword and stepped toward Diato’s sleeping form. He didn’t stir. He didn’t even have someone sitting watch while he slept. But it did not surprise her. He was too confident to fear anything. Using the toe of her boot, she nudged his arm. His eyes immediately opened and a smile slid across his perfect lips.
“Fiona.” He didn’t move, just lay there gazing up at her without seeming surprised to see her. “You’ve come to meet me. I thought that you might. I’m not very happy with you, Fiona. You’ve hurt me.”
“I do not care if you are happy with me or not. You deserve a little hurt for causing others so much.” Fiona pressed her lips together. She wasn’t here to discuss their dead relationship. He just brought out the worst in her and she hated him for it.
“Then why are you here?” He tucked his arm behind his head. She gritted her teeth. “Do you wish to make up with me? I would consider forgiving you.” That was how he used to lay looking at her when he was finished with her for the night. And his words were mocking. But she refused to be sucked into an argument.
“I would still be gentle with you if you have,” he added, one more stab at her.
“Ronan believes Thestian is not who he says he is. He believes him to be Sleagan,” Fiona blurted, hating how he could still hurt her.
Diato stared blankly at her and then slowly frowned. “What kind of silliness is this?”
“He believes Thestian is using you, Diato. Filling you full of information that will make you react with emotion rather than thought.” Fiona prayed he was considering what she said.
“I am not a man to be used,” Diato said guardedly.
No. You use others, Fiona thought, feeling the bitterness of resentment rise within her.
“His reasoning makes sense. I find it odd that he would send his best guards to retrieve a sword that is in no danger when the King of Meris obviously is.” Fiona watched Diato’s eyes narrow.
“Robusk named Thestian at the monastery.” He tucked his other arm behind his head but Fiona could see that his body had tensed. “Robusk is no idiot.”
“No, but he is missing,” Fiona said and then sucked in her breath as a sharp pain pierced her right shoulder. She immediately grasped at the arrow that struck her. Black powder and blood rubbed off on her fingertips. She turned, body suddenly feeling so weak that she had to rest her weight on her sword.
“You.” Fiona’s eyes dropped and widened as they rested on the familiar face behind her. “Why?” But then darkness swirled around her and she collapsed.
“It took you long enough,” Diato growled, rising to his feet.
“I had to make sure I was close enough and she didn’t slow her pace the whole way here. It made it hard for me to keep up.”
Diato scowled. “What business is this about Thestian being SleaganSleagan?” His eyes dropped to Fiona’s arm. It had barely grazed her arm, and brought just enough poison to knock her out.
“Some idiocy that the blacksmith is rambling.”
Diato nodded and leaned down to lift Fiona while some of the guards scrambled to ready the noose. “My sweet little changeling,” Diato whispered and pressed his lips to Fiona’s. “You made this too easy.”
“You are going to kill her aren’t you?”
Diato’s eyes were hard when he looked up. “That’s not your concern. Now get out of here before I decide to kill you as well.” He smiled again when Thestian’s spy hurried back the way he came. Thestian had told him of the one he sent to watch the blacksmith. He’d told him he would be of some help if Diato needed it.
Fiona moaned from his arms and he looked down. “Sleep. You won’t die from the poison. I made sure only enough was used that I could take your weapons away from you.” Fiona moaned again. “Shh. Just sleep.”
“I have to warn Ronan,” she managed to murmur and Diato’s smile disappeared. Even now when she should be afraid for her life, she was thinking of the blacksmith.
“You’ll never see him alive again.” Diato growled down at her, his arms tightening around her. “You are mine, Fiona. You should start getting used to that idea.”
Wake up. Ronan’s eyes instantly opened. He’d been dreaming of Robusk, now a thin, frail wizard with just enough strength to remain alive. His white hair looked gray from the filth that he was made to remain in, his large hands had been bony from starvation.
Seeing the once great King like that had filled Ronan with sadness because he knew that it was more than a dream. He’d asked Robusk where he was but the old wizard had shaken his head. He would not tell him.
Ronan sat up but the dawn was silent. Too silent. Something was wrong. He rose from the cot and stepped outside, adjusting the sheath on his hip. No one had emerged from the other two huts yet and Monty lay curled, snoring deeply a few yards away.
“Blaaaaacksmith,” A voice haunted the air from a distance, then once again, a bit louder. “Blaaaaacksmith.” Ronan frowned, squinting across the moors. But no one could be seen. Ronan stuck his tongue into the air.
“It’s Diato.” Monty’s deep voice caused Ronan to start, nearly biting into his tongue. “He’s still miles away.” Ronan turned to find the dragon standing, fully alert. He hadn’t even heard the creature’s breathing change.
“He’s trying to goad me into a fight.” Ronan crossed his arms and turned his eyes back to the horizon.
“Blaaaaacksmith.” Diato’s voice moaned through the morning.
“It seems he has the same idea as you had.” Monty stretched his legs, causing his great silver scales to glitter in the rising sun. “He waits for his enemy to come to him.”
Ronan took a moment to admire the dragon. He truly was a magnificent beast. “Have you warned your kind about what is to happen?” Ronan asked when Monty yawned loudly. He eyed the dragon’s teeth, considering the damage they could do with one snap of his jaw.
“Blaaaaacksmith.” Diato was not going to give up.
“They know.” Monty nodded and glanced back at the huts. “Will you wake them now?” Yes. Ronan started. Ahearn. It had been Ahearn who had called for him to wake.
“It seems I must.” Ronan grinned back at the horse.
“May I do the honors?” Monty surprised him by asking. Ronan inclined his head for the dragon to do as he wished. Monty smiled and faced the horizon, resizing himself to his natural height. He drew back his head, taking a deep breath. Ronan instinctively put his hands over his ears.
The sound caused the earth to rumble so violently that Ronan went to his knee to keep from falling flat on his face. He closed his eyes and clamped his teeth together to keep them from clacking against one another.
When the dragon silenced, Ronan gave a little whoop and jumped to his feet, grinning. “I’ll bet that will quiet him down!”