Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,56

out of the embrace. "Mother, really. I'm not a child."

She was right, Lacrimosa knew. Agnus Dei was no longer a child. The girl was eighteen now, and as tall as Lacrimosa. When I was eighteen, I was already married and had two daughters. Agnus Dei, I'm so sorry I raised you in this world, that you grew up in caves and tunnels. I'm so sorry we couldn't give you a better world.

"Mother, will you stop looking at me like that?" Agnus Dei demanded, eyes fiery. "Wipe your tears away. Stars above, I'm fine, okay? You're always worrying. Even when you say nothing, your eyes are nagging me."

Lacrimosa laughed. "Okay, Agnus Dei, okay. Go grab us some chickens or sheep. And here, take this." She pulled a silver coin from her pocket. "Don't let the farmers see you, but leave this in place of the animals you take."

Agnus Dei's eyes flashed, and she seemed ready to complain, but Lacrimosa glowered at her so severely, that her daughter only sighed, snatched the coin, and stormed off.

"I'll go with you," Kyrie offered and followed her. "You'll need help carrying back the grub."

When the young ones vanished into the shadows, Benedictus and Lacrimosa sat down. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he placed an arm around her, kissed her hair, and sighed. For a long time they sat together, staring into the night. The clouds thickened and a drizzle fell, so light it barely wet them, but cold enough that Lacrimosa trembled. Stalks of wheat rustled around them, and Lacrimosa wrapped her arms around Benedictus, seeking warmth from his body. He was all muscle, bones, and scars, but there was warmth and softness to him too.

"How are you, Ben?" she finally asked.

He stared ahead into the night and said nothing. Lacrimosa waited. She knew that he needed time to gather his thoughts, to form his words. Benedictus rarely spoke freely. When he spoke, it was because he had considered every word and meant it. After a long moment, he spoke into the darkness.

"I'm scared," he said.

Lacrimosa looked at him and bit her lip. Benedictus the Great, the Black Fang, the King of Requiem—scared? Lacrimosa touched his dark curls lined with gray, and her hand seemed so small and soft against his gruff, tousled head.

"I'm scared too," she whispered.

Benedictus ran his hand against her thigh, a rough hand, the hand of a hunter and fighter, calloused. "The kid, he... he believes in me, Lacrimosa. He looks up to me; worships me, even. I used to demand that from young Vir Requis. I used to expect it. They died under my command, Lacrimosa. Thousands of kids like Kyrie died under my banners. If anything should happen to Kyrie, or to our daughters...."

Our daughters. Lacrimosa closed her eyes, the secret of her shame burning within her. Yes, Agnus Dei and Gloriae are ours, mine and Ben's, and not grown from Dies Irae's seed.

Sometimes Lacrimosa ached to tell him, could almost speak her secret. Tonight she wanted to whisper to her husband, to hold him, touch his hair, speak of that night long ago. Tell him what Dies Irae had done. But she could not. Not yet. The pain still burned too strongly, even after all these years.

She kissed his stubbly cheek. "They may die," she whispered. "I know that. And I want to protect them. But how much longer can we hide, Ben? We've hidden for years, but they keep hunting us, sending us fleeing. You know how Agnus Dei was. Half mad with cabin fever and pain. I watched her and I wept and feared. I thought she would become wild, untameable, that she would become fully mad with rage. I thought that she would fly with fire and let the griffins find her. You sent men to die, Ben, yes. And you sent women to die, and children, and I know, my lord, I know how much blood covers your hands, and how it haunts you. But you are a hero to Kyrie. And you are a hero to Agnus Dei; she will not admit it, but I know it's true." Tears filled her eyes, and Lacrimosa smiled. "She always tells me: I am not fair and graceful like you, Mother, I am strong and proud like Father. That is how she loves you. You are brave, and noble, and you are doing right. If you were not scared, you would be heartless. Your fear speaks of your goodness."

He smiled in the dark,