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“If they use blood magic or dark magic, then they cause harm to others. What happens to them is then deserved.” His spiked brows drew together in a deep frown. “I am not the one hurting them, so why should I care?”

“I was not expecting that answer.”

She could tell that he liked that she was casual about this with him, and that she wasn’t asking him to stop. Amalia didn’t see the point. She knew even if she asked him to stop, he wouldn’t.

She brought her hand up to her chin to rub her index finger against the seam of her lips.

“I do ask that you not burn them alive while I am here. I do not think I will be able to handle hearing such a thing.”And definitely not smell it.

As it usually did, the memory of her own burning plagued her thoughts. She did her best to ignore it while staring into the sharp silver eyes looking back at her. Amalia very much liked looking at them.

They were so large that she was able to see the way his irises were formed around his round pupils, the lighter and darker swirls and pools of silver.

“I will attempt to refrain from doing so.”

He walked into the alcove and began sweeping his arms to bring the last of the pile together. They’d already transferred most of it over.

“Why are you doing this today?” she asked, following behind him once again to pick up the pieces he dropped.

“Thought it was time. I usually do not spend an extended period in my lair. Since I am here, I have no excuse not to.”

He scooped his hand forward and placed the last of the riches. Then she watched him while he started moving around the massive pile while sweeping everything that had rolled to the edges of the room into the centre to make a mound.

“You could make a human very wealthy with all of this,” she laughed.

He gave a chuckle in return.

“Alas, they will have to kill me to do so, and I do not see that forthcoming. My death will mostly likely not be by a human.”

The Dragon laid on top of the pile, shifting his body like he wanted to squish it tighter to the ground. When she realised he didn’t plan to move, she came to sit on top of it with him.

“Do your kind live a long time?”

It was a question she’d always wanted to ask.

“Depends on the Dragon.” She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a proper answer. He gave her a roll of his eyes. “We live to roughly eight hundred years, but most do not achieve such a length of life. It is believed that ten human years equates to one Dragon year. It takes a long time for us to age and die.”

She sat with her legs straight, her hand covering her mouth as she thought. “How old are you then?”

“I have seen two hundred and ninety-three winters.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked around the room.

“No wonder your pile is so large then!”

He gave her another chuckle, and she smiled at the sound of it. It was warm and deep, and she often found it pleasing, especially when she was the cause of it.

“It would be bigger if I were not set on hunting the way I do. I would like much more, but it is enough that it gives me a pleasant sleep.”

She nodded as though she had any understanding of what it was like to be of his kind who liked to sleep the way they did.

“Does living for that long not become tiresome?”

“Not particularly. Our minds are not the same as humans, and we perceive time differently. We often spend periods thoughtless and asleep.”

That sounds horribly boring.She shrugged. She shouldn’t judge. It wasn’t her place.

Her eye scanned over the length of the Dragon and the large spikes jutting from his body – the ones that were long and fanned out around his head and then became smaller as they trailed between his shoulders, his back, all the way to the heart-shaped spade of his tail tip.