Page 28 of Lady Dragon

“What if fixing the Heartstone means that you have to… undo… the pair-bond?” She couldn’t help it—the thought made her terribly sad. It was what had kept Kirek from killing her. And perhaps it was what made Kirek feel more for her—whatever that was.

Maybe being cursed wasn’t the worst thing, if it meant Samansa was still tied to Kirek.

The pair-bond isn’t a choice , Kirek said . It only vanishes when there’s no longer a need for it. That most often happens when the hatchlings leave the nest, but…

“But there are no hatchlings,” Samansa finished for her. “Which means there’s no obvious way for it to come to a natural conclusion?”

Pair-bonds fade for other reasons. Over time, for one.

What about death? Samansa didn’t want to ask this question, either—and this time, she didn’t.

She wanted to carry on hoping that there might be a way to fix the Heartstone without losing the pair-bond.

Without losing her life. Certainly the dragons would value Kirek’s existence more than hers, no matter what Kirek insisted, and if one of them needed to be sacrificed to break some curse affecting them both… well, then.

The dragons already wanted Samansa dead, after all.

But maybe the pair-bond, anomalous though it may be between a dragon and a human, would be the very thing to keep her safe, as she’d dared hope and Kirek seemed to believe.

The bond had fallen into place before the Heartstone shattered.

Maybe the Heartstone could be repaired, the curse broken, without severing the pair-bond.

Without more death, let alone Samansa’s.

She felt a warmer current in the whipping air, and risked opening her eyes.

The night sky was strewn with stars, sparkling all around her.

Endless. For a while, she just stared at it, imagining she was adrift on a horizonless dark sea.

Maybe she would never reach shore—and for a moment, the thought wasn’t terrifying.

Because she wasn’t alone out here.

“Why is feeling something… more… for a human forbidden?” she found herself asking eventually. “My mother told me it was.”

I don’t entirely know , Kirek replied. It just is.

“Because humans are weak?” Samansa couldn’t help snorting.

Despite their relatively small size and lesser strength, humans did have their ingenuity, which had led to the creation of many tools to combat the dragons, as she had just seen—and felt , firsthand.

The throbbing in her shoulder was a powerful reminder.

Humans had terrible weapons. But were they any worse than a dragon’s fire or raking claws?

Perhaps because you’re weak… little one , Kirek said, but the words were wry, as if she, too, were remembering the soldiers’ attack.

Samansa snorted again. “Not so little sometimes.” And then, before she could think better of it, she said, “Another War of Fire would be awful.” She didn’t know how Kirek felt, and maybe she didn’t want to know, if they fell on opposite sides of such a blade.

There was another long pause, and then the dragon said, Yes. It would be .

“At least we can agree on that,” Samansa breathed, trying not to sound too relieved—and then hopeful.

“Maybe the pair-bond fell into place to protect the Treaty —which you were about to break by killing me,” she added with faint bitterness.

“Maybe it’s not only about the safety of hatchlings, but of our realms? ”

Kirek was silent for another long moment. But then why would the Heartstone shatter when I bonded you? It’s the very thing that allows for communication and understanding between our realms.

“I don’t know,” Samansa murmured. “Do you have any ideas?”

Only more silence answered her, but the princess could almost hear the dragon’s unspoken thought.

Maybe because we’re cursed for feeling something more than the pair-bond.

Samansa didn’t want to consider that any longer—or anything else for that matter, in her exhaustion—and let herself drift among the stars atop the dragon.

Samansa dreamed of fire, crimson scales, and piercing golden eyes.

A great red dragon towered over her, cowing her, making her feel as though she were shrinking under the overbearing size of that reptilian body.

She was surrounded by a cave of molten rock and flame that was riddled with tools and basins, almost like one would find in a forge, but she couldn’t focus on such details for long with the dragon looming over her, pressing down on her.

Crushing her. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She had no voice anymore. She only heard the dragon’s consuming, silent words, reverberating in her skull.

It was telling her a name, one she could almost make out, and it wasn’t hers…

Her own eyes flew open. There was a tearing pressure in her legs where the leather straps bound her to the saddle. She wasn’t shrinking, but growing . Kirek was roaring beneath her—and then shouting, in all-too-human fear.

“Samansa!”

At first, the princess didn’t recognize the name. But then she recognized Kirek, in human form, falling out from under her—out from under her own flexing claws and spreading wings. Samansa’s sharp sight picked out the startled terror in Kirek’s silver eyes as she dropped, even in the dark.

Kirek! Samansa tried to shout, but it came out of her mouth as a screech that tore through the star-strewn sky.

The princess was a dragon again. She was Samansa . And Kirek was falling to her death on the rocky ground, hundreds of feet below them.

Samansa tucked her wings and dove without thinking. She didn’t know what she was doing, how to move properly in this form. It was all instinct. She only knew she had to reach Kirek.

Despite her bulk, Samansa dropped faster than the dragon girl, tucking in her limbs and pointing her huge body like an arrow. Kirek was flailing her own arms and legs, seemingly trying to slow herself as best she could. But the ground was fast approaching.

Samansa lunged for her, no time to be cautious, and seized her in her claws without a moment to spare, spreading her wings wide and pulling up just before they both smashed onto the rocks.

She felt Kirek jerk hard in her unforgiving grip, and pain tore through her own joints from the strain of their abrupt midair halt.

Samansa couldn’t imagine she would have survived in Kirek’s place herself, in human form.

Fortunately, Kirek was strong. Strong enough, at least, Samansa hoped desperately .

The dragon girl wasn’t moving, her body limp.

With a few more flaps of aching wings, Samansa descended the rest of the way to the ground, landing awkwardly with Kirek still clutched in her claws. As quickly but carefully as possible, Samansa laid her down on the rocks and ducked toward her.

Kirek still didn’t move. Her eyes were closed.

KIREK.

Samansa nudged her none-too-gently with her snout, trying to get a sense if she was breathing.

Her finely tuned ears picked up the faint whisper of breath, and her keen eyesight the slight rise and fall of the dragon girl’s chest under her leathers.

But Kirek still could be gravely injured—even to the point of death.

Kirek! Please, please, please…

Kirek’s eyes cracked open, and relief flooded through Samansa.

The dragon girl groaned. “Your volume is gaining strength with your dragon-speech. You nearly split my skull with it.”

Samansa felt a pang of unease, remembering the strange dragon’s voice in her own skull as she dreamed. Kirek’s hands rose shakily to pat down her body.

“Thankfully, nothing else seems to be broken,” she said. “And I still have my weapons.”

Samansa released a groan of her own, powerful enough to vibrate the air and blow Kirek’s hair about her face. Samansa couldn’t keep away from her any longer and folded to the rocky ground in a massive crouch, bringing her snout close enough to nearly touch the dragon girl’s shoulder.

Kirek’s arm flopped as if by its own accord to rest a hand on her scales. “Stop worrying. I’m all right. I’m strong, even like this. My head is just ringing like one of your bells, and the world is spinning. Just give me a moment.”

How did this happen? Samansa asked, as quietly as possible out of consideration for Kirek’s skull. Well, as quietly as possible for already silent words.

“I don’t know,” Kirek said, shifting into a more comfortable position against the sword at her back.

“I didn’t anticipate it happening again so soon.

Or maybe I feared it so much I didn’t want to dwell on it.

I was hoping we could take turns sleeping to prevent it, but if it can happen when only one of us is asleep, never mind when we’re both awake, we should expect it more, in the future. ”

More shocking transformations into a dragon—or into a human, for Kirek. They were right to be heading into the draconic realm. Samansa was too unstable to be near anyone else.

But just as quickly as I transform into a dragon, I might back to human, right? There was an undercurrent of desperation in her question.

“I don’t know,” Kirek repeated, her voice low. Troubled. “I hope so.”

But she feared otherwise, her words seemed to say.

Fear also ate at Samansa. She had been dreaming of that strange dragon—the dragon she now appeared to be.

But in her dream, they’d both been different entities, with different names.

Although she couldn’t remember the other name, it had nearly been enough to forget her own.

The dragon’s presence had been stifling, threatening.

At least she felt like herself once more, despite how she looked. She couldn’t make sense of it.

But it terrified her. It was as if, more and more, she was losing herself. She knew she should probably tell Kirek what had happened, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. The thought was too awful to voice.

Kirek abruptly sat up with a grunt, clutching her head. “Can you fly?” she asked.

Samansa rose from the ground on her towering, powerful legs and experimentally flexed her wings. They were sore, but still fully functional.

Yes , she said. But you should rest.

“We can’t stay exposed like this,” Kirek argued. “The sun will come up soon. We need to find cover.”

Samansa could see it now—a faint glow on the horizon, the first warm kiss of dawn.

Where? she asked. I don’t know where we are.

“I do, and I know a place. I’ll guide you. But first we need to find the saddle.”

Why? Aren’t you strong enough to hold on? Wait, you’re not more hurt than you seem—?

Kirek cut through Samansa’s rising anxiety. “No. But if we change again, you’ll need to be able to stay seated on my back once more.”

But isn’t flying too dangerous to risk, especially if we might change again? You almost died! Samansa could still see the terror in Kirek’s eyes, and could only too easily imagine what falling herself would feel like. She likely would have died.

“Staying here is more dangerous. We’ll fly low, and neither of us will sleep—we’ll remain alert for any sign of transformation. We need to retrieve the saddle and reach shelter before daylight. No one can see us like this—no dragon, at least.”

Why? Samansa asked. Weren’t they supposed to find shelter among the dragons ?

“Because you won’t be able to adequately explain who you are, and neither will I. Not in any manner that would be believed, in our current state. It will be easier when I’m in my true form and you, yours.”

There was that shadow of worry again, cast from her words—that easier was growing less likely.

I thought we would be safe in the draconic realm, even like this , Samansa said.

Safer, at least. Maybe only somewhat safer.

Perhaps her imprecision with words was, ironically, a sign that her dragon-speech was improving, since she was communicating more like her natural self. What would a dragon do to us now?

Kirek hauled herself to her feet with a grimace—one of pain rather than emotion, since she uttered with a disturbing lack of concern, “Before we can reach High Nest and try to explain the situation to the Queen Mother? Probably kill us as soon as look at us.”

If Samansa had been a human and not a dragon, she would have giggled hysterically. Instead, she said with her own admirable, if ill-fitting calm, Oh. Wouldn’t that be unfortunate.