For the first time in his entire life, John didn’t want to shift back to his true form.
I must. She asked for my name. I must tell her.
But the instant she heard the swirling music of his name, she would know how badly he had failed her.
Sea dragon names were not like human names. A human name might carry some hidden meaning or association—like his own air-name, “John Doe”, which he had been told was traditionally given to one whose true identity was unknown—but it could not capture the true complexities of a person. Humans were more than their names.
But sea dragons were not.
A sea dragon’s name grew and changed over time, recording their deeds and proclaiming their honor for all to hear. John’s own true name had started as the same simple five-note sequence that all male noble-born infants bore, but by now it had lengthened into a symphony that took a full three minutes to sing in its entirety.
And it started with the unmistakable, thundering chord that proclaimed the bearer was a Knight of the First Water. Sworn defender of the Pearl Throne.
Mateless.
The day that chord had been prefixed to his name had been the proudest of John’s life. Now, he would have given anything to be able to undo it.
It is already undone, insisted his inner human. John could practically feel its fists clenching round his bones, trying to prevent him from shifting. She is our mate! All other loyalties mean nothing now. Abandon knighthood, abandon oaths, choose her!
John savagely flung the puny creature down to the deepest, lightless depths of his mind. Just to listen to such whispers was dishonorable. He was the Emperor’s servant, sworn to his duty. Nothing could change that.
He held onto that thought as if it was a sword, steeling himself for what he had to do. His mate—his mate!—was still gazing at him from the shore, making no move to follow him into the water yet.
He longed to swim with her, just once. If only he could hear the heart-rending beauty of her own true name, before he forever shattered the growing bond between them with the sound of his own…
No. Every second I delay is another small lie. I have taken a vow of candor. I must tell her.
He shifted, and for the first time it felt like shouldering a burden rather than being set free. Closing his eyes so that he would not have to see her face, he sang his name.
Or rather, tried to. His throat closed up after that first terrible, traitorous chord—Knight/Poet/First Water!—and he could go no further. What point of telling her the rest of him, the victories he had won and the treasures he had claimed? None of it mattered.
All that mattered was that he had betrayed her. He had not searched hard enough, long enough. He had bound himself to another’s service too soon, too hastily.
They could never mate.
He did not want to look at her. Did not want to see the shining joy snuffed out from her striking, noble face, bleak betrayal clouding those summer-sky eyes. Almost, he turned to flee, to disappear back into the sunless depths of the lake without a backward glance and save them both further pain.
But only an honorless coward fled from a battlefield. And now, more than ever, he had nothing left but honor.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to open his eyes.
It was far worse than he could ever have imagined. The raw horror in her expression cleaved him to the very heart. She backed away, trembling all over, her eyes wide and…
…Terrified?
John instinctively swung his head round, momentarily convinced that some dreadful monster of the deep must have unexpectedly arisen behind him. But there was nothing there. Nothing to provoke such fear.
Nothing except himself.
Surely not.
That was a thought even more ludicrous than a colossal squid suddenly breaching from the calm lake. Why should his mate fear him?
“I don’t understand,” he sang to her, harmonies of bewilderment and growing concern swirling around the simple melody.
She clapped her hands over her ears, recoiling as if from a tor
rent of meaningless noise. There was absolutely no sign of comprehension in her face.