regret—like strangle the maid with his bare hands.
Jill swatted at the pesky bugs swarming around her face. As the sun went down, they had multiplied by the hundreds. Hearing another high-pitched whine as one made a dive bomb for her neck, she waved her hands in a fruitless effort to keep them at bay.
"Why are these mosquitoes eating me alive and they don't seem to be bothering you one bit?"
"Mosquitoes?"
Baelin glanced up from where he was busy driving two branches into the ground on either side of the fire to serve as a makeshift rotisserie for the recently deceased rabbit. It was the first time they'd spoken in over an hour and Jill was acutely aware she was treading on shaky ground with him. She figured mosquitoes were a safe enough topic to talk about.
"Ah, those are midges."
"I don't care what they're called, they're driving me crazy. What kind of medieval bug repellent are you using?"
He frowned a moment until understanding eased the creases on his brow. "I am not doing anything. They naturally avoid me."
"Let me guess. They can sense the predator in you." Jill said it as a joke, trying to lighten the mood between them, but Baelin surprised her by confirming her words.
"Aye, there may be some truth in that."
"What do you mean?"
"Dragon's blood flows through my veins. If I were to bleed, it would burn anything it touched. I can only assume they sense to drink of it would mean their death."
"Really? You mean your blood is like some kind of acid?"
"Aye, if this acid you speak of burns like fire."
"That doesn't sound very healthy for your arteries, but the built-in bug-be-gone is a nifty side affect."
Baelin stilled. "My lady, I would gladly suffer the bite of a thousand vermin every day of my life than to live one more day as a dragon."
Jill could've kicked herself. There she went, saying the wrong thing again. "Right. I guess when you put it like that, the small benefit isn't worth it. Sorry."
She scratched at the dirt with a stick, feeling awkward and irritated with herself. Every time she opened her mouth, she managed to offend him. The difference in their times could explain a lot, but she knew if she stopped to think before she spoke, it would go a long way toward easing some of the tension between them.
She sat quietly as he prepared the rabbit for roasting. Finally, curiosity got the better of her. "So, how did you end up being cursed to be a dragon anyway?"
Baelin nearly dropped the rabbit in the fire as he attempted to balance the skewered carcass between the two stakes.
"I see forthrightness is also one of your…virtues."
Jill snorted. "If that's what you call it. Most people say it's being nosy." When he didn't answer her, she prodded again. "So, dish. Give me the gory details. Inquiring minds want to know."
"'Tis not something I talk about."
Something in his voice caught her attention—a bitterness tinged with regret.
"Is it because you don't like to talk about it or because none of the other girls ever bothered to ask?"
He sat on the opposite side of the fire. She could tell he was thinking, probably remembering, and she was all too aware she'd touched on a painful subject for him.
"They never asked."
"Well, I'm asking." She spoke without demand, offering without saying the words to listen to his story and perhaps, in the telling of it, relieve some of his lonely burden.
He looked away. "I prefer not to remember that time. It was long ago, when I was too young, too proud." He paused for the span of a heartbeat. "Still human."
She was surprised when he returned his gaze to her, those warm, brown eyes filled with an intense pain he didn't bother to hide.
"What does it matter now? I am what I am."
His softly spoken words recalled the hurt in those same eyes when she made the comment about not wanting to kiss him. How could she have been so insensitive? The poor guy had been alone in a cave for two centuries. It's not as if he'd had a lot of opportunities to get any action, and
Jill swatted at the pesky bugs swarming around her face. As the sun went down, they had multiplied by the hundreds. Hearing another high-pitched whine as one made a dive bomb for her neck, she waved her hands in a fruitless effort to keep them at bay.
"Why are these mosquitoes eating me alive and they don't seem to be bothering you one bit?"
"Mosquitoes?"
Baelin glanced up from where he was busy driving two branches into the ground on either side of the fire to serve as a makeshift rotisserie for the recently deceased rabbit. It was the first time they'd spoken in over an hour and Jill was acutely aware she was treading on shaky ground with him. She figured mosquitoes were a safe enough topic to talk about.
"Ah, those are midges."
"I don't care what they're called, they're driving me crazy. What kind of medieval bug repellent are you using?"
He frowned a moment until understanding eased the creases on his brow. "I am not doing anything. They naturally avoid me."
"Let me guess. They can sense the predator in you." Jill said it as a joke, trying to lighten the mood between them, but Baelin surprised her by confirming her words.
"Aye, there may be some truth in that."
"What do you mean?"
"Dragon's blood flows through my veins. If I were to bleed, it would burn anything it touched. I can only assume they sense to drink of it would mean their death."
"Really? You mean your blood is like some kind of acid?"
"Aye, if this acid you speak of burns like fire."
"That doesn't sound very healthy for your arteries, but the built-in bug-be-gone is a nifty side affect."
Baelin stilled. "My lady, I would gladly suffer the bite of a thousand vermin every day of my life than to live one more day as a dragon."
Jill could've kicked herself. There she went, saying the wrong thing again. "Right. I guess when you put it like that, the small benefit isn't worth it. Sorry."
She scratched at the dirt with a stick, feeling awkward and irritated with herself. Every time she opened her mouth, she managed to offend him. The difference in their times could explain a lot, but she knew if she stopped to think before she spoke, it would go a long way toward easing some of the tension between them.
She sat quietly as he prepared the rabbit for roasting. Finally, curiosity got the better of her. "So, how did you end up being cursed to be a dragon anyway?"
Baelin nearly dropped the rabbit in the fire as he attempted to balance the skewered carcass between the two stakes.
"I see forthrightness is also one of your…virtues."
Jill snorted. "If that's what you call it. Most people say it's being nosy." When he didn't answer her, she prodded again. "So, dish. Give me the gory details. Inquiring minds want to know."
"'Tis not something I talk about."
Something in his voice caught her attention—a bitterness tinged with regret.
"Is it because you don't like to talk about it or because none of the other girls ever bothered to ask?"
He sat on the opposite side of the fire. She could tell he was thinking, probably remembering, and she was all too aware she'd touched on a painful subject for him.
"They never asked."
"Well, I'm asking." She spoke without demand, offering without saying the words to listen to his story and perhaps, in the telling of it, relieve some of his lonely burden.
He looked away. "I prefer not to remember that time. It was long ago, when I was too young, too proud." He paused for the span of a heartbeat. "Still human."
She was surprised when he returned his gaze to her, those warm, brown eyes filled with an intense pain he didn't bother to hide.
"What does it matter now? I am what I am."
His softly spoken words recalled the hurt in those same eyes when she made the comment about not wanting to kiss him. How could she have been so insensitive? The poor guy had been alone in a cave for two centuries. It's not as if he'd had a lot of opportunities to get any action, and
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