Page 27 of Lady Dragon

SAMANSA

Flying atop a dragon was indeed much easier with a saddle.

It had been less easy to attach it to said dragon’s back, especially with Samansa’s injured shoulder, which she’d bound tightly with cloth strips torn from the hem of her skirt.

Kirek assured her, based on her own experience, that it should be healed the next time Samansa transformed, which was slight comfort alongside the thought of becoming a dragon again—one neither of them seemed to relish.

At least the Heartstone shard lodged in her chest didn’t pain her as much as it had, burrowing deeper inside of her and partially healing over, though the ache still tugged at her when she moved.

They’d managed to hoist and secure the saddle with long straps of leather they’d found in the barn along with other useful items, and Samansa had even used some of those straps as well as a thick belt at her waist to tie herself down in case she lost her seat—an outcome that was more of a certainty than a possibility, she imagined.

She’d also packed a saddlebag with a couple of skins of water, which Kirek told her not to drain too soon, strips of dried meat, and as many apples as she could fit.

Samansa promptly packed a few extra apples in her stomach.

When she found an old blanket, Kirek groused as Samansa wrapped it around her shoulders:

You smell like horse. And you won’t need that for long. Not where we’re going.

The draconic realm apparently ran hot and dry, composed of a wide desert and a long string of active volcanoes, as if the sandy wasteland wasn’t already hot enough. Samansa knew about it through her studies, and imagining it gave her little solace, though she didn’t say that aloud.

“Yes, but right now it’s nightfall in Andrath and I’m freezing ,” she’d responded through chattering teeth. Perhaps it was the shock more than the temperature, but true in any case.

Samansa had pretended not to notice when Kirek slunk off as gracefully as ever with her serpentine, glimmering bulk to eat one of the cows, or at least that’s what the princess suspected she was doing.

At least the dragon made it quick. Samansa supposed Kirek needed the stamina for flying, after all.

Especially with the burden of carrying a passenger, and with as far as they were intending to go.

Taking off was both thrilling and terrifying—an echo of what she’d experienced before, as a dragon.

Samansa felt as if her stomach was left behind on the ground as she soared upward with the force of Kirek’s wings.

She couldn’t even think, only feel the weight of the skies pressing down on her, and yet still she rose.

As a dragon, she had felt powerful, at home in the air and in control—if not at home in her own body or in control of her thoughts.

At least now she was herself, though it felt precarious in a more physical way.

The tightness of the straps seemed to be the only thing keeping her from tearing loose of the saddle.

Her cheeks and hands burned both from the cold and how hard she was clenching her jaws and fists.

And yet in no time, her entire world and all its troubles was left far beneath her, the pieces of it laid out as tiny as children’s toys.

For a moment, she felt freer than she ever had been.

Even freer than she had as a dragon. Then, it had seemed an outside force was hemming her in, pinning her down, even as she flew.

She appreciated the blanket all the more once they were high up and the chill air currents cut through her as if striving for the bone, making her shoulder wound ache.

At least they had left the horrid view of the burning farm behind, though she could still smell the smoke and charred meat in her hair.

She hunched over the dragon’s back, tears streaming from her eyes from both the wind and the images haunting her, and tried not to perish of cold.

Kirek’s bulk began to rumble, and heat eventually seeped up through her scales and the saddle, but the wind was bitterly persistent.

Samansa crouched so low she was eventually nearly flattened along Kirek’s neck, squeezing her eyes closed.

She couldn’t help it when her arms drifted away from clutching the saddle to embrace the dragon beneath her instead.

And not just for the warmth, but for the simple closeness of another being at such an unsettling time.

Perhaps also because Kirek was a very specific being.

Kirek hummed in response. She sounded almost pleased at the contact. Or merely relieved they were both all right.

Samansa wasn’t all right. Alive , yes, safe or all right , no.

More tears streamed from beneath her lids, glazing her cheeks in what felt like ice, and a sob lodged in her throat that she could neither swallow nor release, choking her .

Jamsens , she thought.

It was as if Kirek could hear her, even like this, because the dragon asked, How are you doing up there, little one?

Samansa couldn’t even be irked at the dragon’s condescension; she was crying so hard.

“Branon killed Jamsens,” she finally managed, her voice sounding strangled and small.

She didn’t know if Kirek would even hear her over the wind.

“He was only trying to protect me. Branon killed him like it was nothing, and yet they grew up practically like brothers. Branon always acted more like a brother to him than he ever has to me.”

You can see how much he values family, then , Kirek mused, and paused. I know Jamsens meant a lot to you, even if—even if it wasn’t how you mattered to him.

“Yes.” Samansa swallowed with effort around the lump in her throat. “That’s why I… I did those things.” A soft, vague summation of the bloody, burning destruction she’d wrought.

I assumed as much , Kirek said . I’m sorry for his death. And that I didn’t deliver you Branon’s.

Samansa surprised herself by exclaiming, “I don’t want him dead! I mean, not exactly.”

That’s not what it looked like back there. He would have deserved death, and worse.

The princess shook her head, though not entirely in denial. “What he’s said and done is awful, but I—what I did wasn’t much different,” she murmured, the words vanishing in the rush of air. “I acted positively monstrous.”

Rather, assuming she had even acted as herself. She hadn’t felt in control; more like something had taken control of her. Would it be better or worse if she hadn’t been responsible for what she’d done—if a monstrous force had overtaken her ?

You didn’t kill the human family.

Samansa’s stomach roiled, and for a moment she feared she might be sick all over Kirek’s scales. “I only didn’t because you stopped me. And all of those soldiers…”

They were trying to hurt you. I killed some of them, too, thank you very much.

Kirek’s attempt at humor didn’t make Samansa’s lips so much as twitch. She pressed her forehead into the warm, hard scales of the dragon’s neck. “I don’t trust myself anymore. I can’t be around anyone.”

You can be around me. There was a longer pause between Kirek’s silent words. And perhaps other dragons.

“I’m scared,” Samansa admitted quietly. “I don’t think we have any other choice, but—what if the dragons kill me?”

They’ll have to kill me first. And I don’t believe my mother will allow that. The pair-bond is respected above nearly all else.

Samansa had her doubts, but she had no recourse but to trust Kirek.

And she did trust Kirek. She wasn’t entirely sure why.

The dragon girl had meant to assassinate her less than a day ago.

Yes, there was the bond, but Samansa didn’t feel it herself.

She felt something else—something more human, in response to Kirek.

Something that Kirek had claimed to feel somewhat, herself.

Her admission was the only thing that had snapped Samansa out of her red rage.

And I’m a fool , Samansa thought miserably. Kirek doesn’t want to feel this way.

And Samansa probably felt more that way than Kirek did, which was already detestable to the dragon.

It isn’t love , Kirek had insisted .

Samansa wasn’t so sure, on her end.

How could she love a dragon? And then she pictured the silver flash of Kirek’s eyes, even that of her metallic scales, and how she moved with lethal grace and unearthly beauty, and knew it was the least of the impossible things that had befallen her.

Samansa didn’t want to ask, but she did anyway, in a whisper, screwing her eyes even more tightly shut as if she could hide from what was coming. “Do you really think we’re cursed?”

Yes. The dragon’s answer was so simple, and yet so heavy. Once more, it felt like earth rising up to meet Samansa as she fell.

“What should we do?” Samansa coughed a little laugh. “Other than maybe feed me to the dragons.”

We have to find out the nature of the curse, and try to break it , Kirek said matter-of-factly, as if it were no monumental task.

Samansa tried to make her voice light, even though she felt flattened under the immensity of it all. “Seems as though we’ve already broken enough, with the Heartstone.”

We have to fix the Heartstone, then.

Samansa grimaced to herself. They couldn’t exactly try to fit the two pieces back together, return the stone to its original place, and hope no one would notice it had broken in the first place, like Samansa had once done with one of her mother’s priceless vases.

The shards had sunk deeper into their chests—which might kill Samansa, at least, were they to try to pry them out while in human form—and which were utterly hidden and impossible to reach while in dragon form.

And one of them was always in dragon form, as they were now. But that wasn’t Samansa’s only concern.