The Dragon of Trelian Read Online Free PDF

until too late that someone might be on the other side. But that was exactly like her, wasn’t it? Not thinking until too late. Or just not thinking at all.
    The doubt had blossomed within her almost as soon as she had turned her back on Calen and started down the hall, growing in intensity and quickly becoming self-directed fury as her stupid words echoed in her incredulous mind. “I’ll share a secret with you,” she repeated angrily under her breath in the singsong voice she usually reserved for mocking her sisters. “I just met you. You’re basically a total stranger. Let me tell you the one thing I shouldn’t be telling anyone, especially not the mage’s apprentice, who could tell the mage, who could and would tell my parents without a second thought.”
    She was an intelligent girl, wasn’t she? She always did well at her lessons, held her own at dinner-table discussions of policy and trade, and routinely trounced Maerlie
and
their father at games of turn-stones. She outwitted Nan Vera on a daily basis, as well as an assortment of castle guardsmen assigned to keep an eye on her. She was smart, she knew she was. Why, then, was she being such a gods-cursed idiot?
    Even now, Meg could feel her secret pulling at her, demanding her attention, pulsing and clutching at her like a physical thing.
No,
she thought.
Not like.
It
was
a physical thing. She had to stop pretending otherwise. In the beginning, perhaps, it had only been something she thought about a lot, but there was no denying that it was getting worse. It was there, in her head, in her body, all the time. Real. And she didn’t know what to do.
    Maybe that’s why she had said what she did. She just had to tell someone. She couldn’t tell her parents. She couldn’t tell Maerlie, which was hard to acknowledge, because she could always tell Maerlie everything . . . but this was too big, too frightening, and Maerlie would feel obligated to tell their parents. Oh, she wouldn’t want to — she’d hate it, she’d feel terrible — but she’d do what she thought was right. Meg didn’t want to put her sister in that position. Besides, this was supposed to be a happy time for Maer — she was getting married, to a man she actually might like, who was young and handsome and seemed to genuinely care for her — and Meg didn’t want to ruin all of that.
    And of course she couldn’t tell her other sisters. Maurel was too young, Mattie was just a baby, and Morgan . . . Morgan was back to help with the wedding preparations, but she wasn’t anyone Meg could talk to about things. Meg had been only eight when Morgan was sent away to be married, and although they’d been close enough before, when Morgan came back to visit she was — different. Changed into a grown-up woman with no interest in children’s games or children’s worries. And so it had always been Maerlie who Meg went to with hurts and joys and questions. And secrets. Until now.
    Meg pounded her fist along the stone wall on the last flight of steps, just hard enough to hurt, letting the scratchy pain of contact override the other, less manageable, pain. Nan Vera would scold her for scraping her princessy skin, but no doubt she’d have some salve or cream to apply and make her presentable by dinnertime. One more door, kicked open without thought, and Meg emerged into the noise and bustle of the main hall.
    Stewards and serving girls ran about on their errands, trying to make sure everything was in order for the guests. One maid with her arms full of bedding glanced at Meg in passing and actually squeaked in alarm before ducking her head and hurrying on her way. Sighing, Meg made an effort to soften her expression. She’d need to pull herself together before she got back to the royal suites, in any case, unless she wanted to explain what was wrong. Which she did not. Or at least, could not. And of course that was the worst thing of all, really. The secret itself was troubling enough, but to have