“Of course not,” said the Dragonwitch. “Weak as you are, you dare not return to seek your vengeance.”
The girl’s hands moved in a flash. “I desire no vengeance. As long as Fairbird is safe, that is all I need.”
“Fires of heaven!” Hri Sora cried. “Are you really as much a simpleton as that?”
She wasn’t. Hri Sora read the truth in the girl’s face. The dragon smiled a slow smile. The girl was weak. Her very strengths were her weakness! To love was to be exposed, to love was to bare one’s neck to the axe. And Hri Sora, the stronger by far, knew how to take that weakness and make of it what she willed.
“You’ve already thought of it, haven’t you?” she whispered. “You’ve already considered the repercussions of your actions. You fled, little one. You fled the Beast and deprived him of his blood price. Did you think he would let it go unpaid? Or did you somehow think the life of your father would pay for the blood you withheld from your god?”
Starflower struggled to meet the Dragonwitch’s gaze. But her heart heaved in her breast. No, she would not faint, although the truth stood before her with such ghastly reality, she thought she might die.
“Your sister is not safe.” Hri Sora leaned forward, twisting her long neck so that she could catch Starflower’s eye. “She will never be safe so long as the Wolf Lord lives.”
A tear slid down the mortal’s dirty cheek.
“He might wait,” said the dragon. “A season, a year, ten years perhaps. But you know as surely as you breathe, the Wolf Lord will demand his dues. And when he does, who will cut Fairbird’s bonds and bid her flee to her exile?”
Now was the moment. The girl shuddered from exhaustion, unable to resist the truth she had known since the moment she first turned her feet in flight, the truth she had struggled to repress. Now was the moment, and what a sweet moment it was! Hri Sora salivated at the taste of victory so near. Her saliva scalded the stones at her feet.
“You must return. You must see that the Beast is slain.”
Starflower slid to her knees. She could not weep, though she wished she could. Her fatigue was too great. And how heavy was the load upon her shoulders! Fairbird . . . sweet Fairbird. Will it all be in vain? Will our mother have died to bring you life, only for you to be taken? Will our father have been torn to pieces by his own god, only for that same god to take his offspring as well?
“I cannot slay the Beast,” she signed.
“I did not say you should,” replied the Flame at Night. “I said you must see that he is slain.”
Starflower gazed up at Hri Sora. She studied that face, so reptilian and yet so vulnerable. The eyes revealed the fire scarcely suppressed inside; she knew full well how swiftly it might emerge. Was that hatred, so intense, meant for her? Starflower did not think so. She could see the contempt, but she did not think the Dragonwitch hated her. Nevertheless, hatred dominated her, body and soul.
“What did he do to you?” Starflower signed.
“What?” Hri Sora snapped.
“What did Wolf Tongue do to you that you so desire his death?”
Hri Sora’s hands hid her face. Did the Dragonwitch weep? Starflower knew little about dragons, but she was certain there were no tears left in this pitiful creature’s body. Her only release was her flame, which she now struggled to swallow back.
The dragon shook herself at last, as though having succeeded in a great battle of wills. When she spoke, her voice was brittle. “I wish him dead. That is all you need know,” she said. “He is my enemy, this self-styled lord of his mortal demesne. He sets himself up as master, but he is nothing! He stole that land and crafted it into his weak little semblance of true Faerie kings’ realms. This is a crime among all the lords and ladies of the Far World and must be punished!”
Starflower knew the dragon lied. However, she discovered that, after all she had been through, she had no wish to die in a blaze of fire. So she did not allow her hands to form the questions they wished to ask. The Dragonwitch might keep her secrets as she willed; they weren’t too difficult to guess. Starflower peered into the shadows of the tower and saw the Black Dogs watching. They were the Beast’s children, she knew beyond doubt. The dragon’s too, she guessed. Unloved, unwanted, made less than they might have been.
Anger flared in Starflower’s heart. But she was at the Queen of Etalpalli’s mercy. It was as her captor had said: She had no choice.
“What do you propose, chieftain?” she signed.
Hri Sora, her rant for the moment ended, smiled slowly. “What do you mean, mortal child?”
“You wish to see the Beast dead. So do I. But such a wish will never be if we ourselves do not act. You know this, and you know more about the monster than I do, though I have lived all my life under his thrall—”