Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,8

before they kill me. I'm good with the sword. But no. She could not die now. Not as Kyrie hid in her tower; she owed him to live, to protect him, no matter what Dies Irae did to her.

"Father, must you while I'm around?" Gloriae said, staring distastefully at Dies Irae's hand up Mirum's skirt. She sipped her ale, wrinkled her nose, and spat it onto the floor. "Honestly, Father, you can be as tasteless as this ale."

Dies Irae laughed, and blessedly, his hand left Mirum's skirt. She exhaled shakily.

Dies Irae sipped his ale and his thin, curved mouth curved even further. He put the mug down, lines of disgust appearing in that golden skin of his. "I certainly would hate to appear as coarse as this drink," he said.

These ones rarely drank cheap ale, Mirum knew, but were used to sipping fine wines. Their tastes had to be as exquisite as their jeweled armor and priceless samite capes. Dies Irae pushed the mug away, his eagle face frowning, and reached out to grab Mirum's arm.

She couldn't help but yelp, which made Gloriae laugh, a cold and beautiful laugh like ice cracking. But Dies Irae did not laugh. His fingers clutched her so painfully, Mirum wanted to scream. It felt like his fingers could tear into her, pull the muscles off her bone. She had not known fingers could cause such pain.

"Mirum... sweetness," Dies Irae said, voice soft, cold, like a slow wave before a storm. His eyes pierced her, steady and dark blue. They bored into her, a stare so cold and sharp, it almost hurt her skin.

"My lord," she whispered, unable to talk any louder. She wanted to scream or faint from the pain.

He tightened his grip on her, fingernails digging, and she bit her lip hard. "Sweetness," he said, "do you know why I am here today? Do you know why I've come to this wretched, seaside ruin of a fort, this pile of moldy stones by this cesspool you call a beach?"

She wanted to hit him, to spit at him, to draw her sword with her free hand and run him through. Kyrie, she thought. I must live for Kyrie. He has nobody else. And neither do I.

"I don't know, my lord," she whispered.

He rose to his feet so suddenly, she started. He released her arm, shoved her back, and backhanded her face. Pain exploded. For an instant, Mirum saw only white light. She took a ragged breath, wobbling, spots dancing before her eyes. She could barely see, barely breathe. Draw your sword, a voice inside her whispered. Draw Father's blade and finish him now, or he'll rape and kill you, or kill and then rape you. Kill him now and then fall upon your sword.

Yet she could not... and she didn't know if it was because she was brave, or because she was a coward.

"You're lying," Dies Irae said, voice as hard as his hand.

Mirum's eyes were glazed, and she gazed past him, gazed out the window toward the sea. She could see the waves there, hear their murmur, taste their salt on her lips. So many of her tears, so many of her whispers and mumbles those waves had swallowed. So many of her fears she had spoken into their roaring depths. The promise of hidden realms and seascapes of wonder pulsed beneath them, a world unknown to her, unknown to any human. Standing in this room, blood on her lip, cruelty surrounding her, Mirum wished like never before to dive into those waves, to disappear into their kingdoms of seashells, sunken ruins, twinkling beads of light so far from pain. From the sea we come, to the sea we return, were the words of her forefathers, words always murmured at births and deaths. Who will utter those words for me? Will I be buried too in the kingdom of waterdepth, or burned upon my walls?

Dies Irae returned to his seat. He leaned back, placed his hand behind his head, and laid his boots upon the table. "There are rumors," he said, voice soft, but Mirum could hear him so loudly, she wanted to cover her ears. "There are rumors in the village. The fishermen whisper of... a shape at night, a shape in the skies. A shape that blocks the stars."

"Could it be a cloud, my lord?" Mirum dared to ask, and Dies Irae laughed mirthlessly.

"You are an endearing creature, are you not?" He placed his boots on the floor and gestured at