Page 37 of Lady Dragon

SAMANSA

Samansa awoke to sand caking her dry, cracked lips, her tear-gummed eyes, and her filthy, burned, quite human arm, which was thrown over her face to shield it from the sun. She sat up, groaning, and scraped the grit from her face, wincing down at her red skin.

But that pain didn’t hold her attention for long, minor as it was in comparison to the one in her chest—not that it hurt her physically anymore.

She shoved aside the tails of the knotted floral kerchief around her neck—ironically the mark of her own favor—to stare in loathing at the shard of red stone, nestled in her now-smooth breast. Her fingers clawed for the edges, her nails trying to find purchase.

It hurt then, sending a bolt of agony through her flesh, but she kept scratching at it, attempting to dig it out with her bare hands.

When she couldn’t, she screamed. Once wasn’t enough. She screamed again at the uncaring sky, her voice breaking and falling away into the vast expanse.

She was lost, in more ways than one. But she could remember how she’d gotten here now, and getting some sleep hadn’t eased the torture of the memories .

As the red dragon, she had flown throughout the night, blinded by rage and confusion and fear, and then landed near dawn next to a rocky outcropping in the sand where she had… fallen apart.

Everything had come crashing down upon her like a bad dream suddenly made real: Kirek’s mother, brutally slain in front of her daughter. Samansa’s change, which had let Kirek’s aunt deliver the final blow. The terrible things that Samansa had said to Kirek, in place of an apology.

I am not myself. With that despairing thought, Samansa had shifted back into human form. And then exhaustedly cried herself to sleep, since she didn’t have the strength for much else.

She was obviously not in an ideal place, literally or figuratively.

Yes, she had found a rocky outcropping to offer her some shade, but she was stranded in the middle of a desert with only a ragged scrap of clothing for cover that didn’t deserve to be called a dress anymore, no weapons, and no water or food.

And the sun had moved over the course of the day as she slept, burning her anyway.

At least as a dragon she had taken to the ground in order to have her emotional breakdown, else she might have shifted back into human form from hundreds of feet in the air and plummeted to her death, like Kirek almost had.

Maybe that would have been the better end for her. Maybe she didn’t deserve to live like this. Not with whatever— whomever —she was becoming.

She’d never thought she was terribly worthy of her position in life before. Now she was certain she wasn’t.

She looked out at the desert, rippling with invisible waves of heat under the beating sun, and worked her parched tongue.

Well, perhaps she didn’t have long anyway.

The last of her water was in the bag attached to the saddle that was still likely back at High Nest, and there wasn’t much of it left, since the journey there had forced her to drink a fair amount.

Even if Kirek managed to somehow find her, she couldn’t have brought the saddle along, stuck in human form as she would have been for most of it.

Which meant no water was forthcoming, and there would be no means for Samansa to fly out of here upon Kirek’s back.

She didn’t imagine the dragon could fly very quickly with the princess clutched precariously in her claws—not fast enough to get her to the water she desperately needed to survive.

And that was if Kirek had even bothered to come looking for her in the first place.

Samansa wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t, not after what the red dragon had said to her.

She remembered all too well the look on Kirek’s face—it was burned into her mind like a brand.

Kirek had gaped at Samansa as if she hadn’t known her, the dragon girl’s silver eyes wide and shocked and hurt.

And maybe she didn’t know her. Samansa barely knew herself.

Why would Kirek chase after that ? If she even could—if she wasn’t something like a prisoner in High Nest. It wasn’t as though she could have simply climbed down from those heights, not even as someone who could scale castle walls with relative ease.

High Nest was as unforgiving as the dragons who lived there.

And perhaps as unforgiving as the red dragon, as well, and unforgivable in her case.

If, upon if, upon if… If Kirek had escaped. If Kirek had bothered to come looking for her. If Kirek could find her. If Kirek knew of another magical spring of water tucked somewhere nearby in this desert .

None of it was looking very likely.

Samansa shifted out of the sun as best she could, the sharp rocks gouging her feet through her thin, ragged slippers. She dearly missed the broken-up rocks of her castle garden.

“I am Princess Samansa, Daughter Heir of Andrath,” she muttered as she went, her dry throat rasping.

“I am not a dragon three hundred years dead, no matter what thoughts come into my head.” She sounded as mad as she felt.

“I will not succumb to some ancient dragon spirit… though I may just die of thirst.” She sat down hard on the smoothest surface she could find in the limited shade. “Wouldn’t that be ignominious.”

Or I can help ease your pain.

Samansa leaped up at the silent voice, faint and indistinct from this distance, scanning the horizon. She saw the far shape of dark wings against the cruel sky.

Maybe she wouldn’t die yet. Maybe Kirek—

She shouted Kirek’s name aloud and even waved her arms, jumping up and down and cursing when the harsh rocks stabbed at her feet and almost toppled her. Still, it would all be worth it if…

As the wings drew closer, she realized they weren’t Kirek’s.

They were misshapen. Ragged. So was the dragon herself, the princess saw, as she circled ever nearer like a shark in water—ironically enough in this waterless place.

Scales were missing from much of her hide, which sagged like old leather from her protruding bones.

Samansa couldn’t even tell what color the dragon had once been.

The princess pressed her back up against the rocks as the dragon landed in the sand in front of her, kicking up dust. The decrepit creature staggered with the effort, but she still looked dangerous enough.

“Hello,” Samansa breathed with as much dignity as she could muster.

The dragon’s head wavered, as if she was having a hard time holding it upright or focusing on Samansa. Her undoubtedly once-bright eyes were clouded over. Hello… Princess, was it?

“You’re not surprised I can understand you?” Samansa asked, edging her way along the rock, toward a deeper crevice. If only she could push her way into the stone to hide.

I talk to many things. The rocks have voices. The sand whispers in my ears. I’ve even come across humans before. Lone wanderers like me, willing to treat with me. One even fixed my wings for me. He pitied me, and for that, I ate him.

Fear froze Samansa in place. She could see the dragon’s wings up close now. They had once been torn apart and apparently healed that way, but now the membrane was stitched together with ratty strips of leather. They were uneven, but apparently serviceable enough.

Human hands are so clever , the dragon finished.

“Perhaps I can help you with something, then, before I go on my way?” I have hands , Samansa nearly added, but figured that might be obvious. As obvious as the fact she had nowhere to go.

The dragon’s head stopped swerving, her neck pointing straight at Samansa as if she’d finally located her. Yes , she said, you can help me. I’m starving .

Samansa decidedly did not fit into the crevice.

Her curves wouldn’t let her slip into the jagged stone groove.

She’d cursed them before, but this wasn’t a ball gown she was trying to cram herself into, and she rather preferred her body fully intact, even if that meant she looked as appealing as a cream puff to the dragon.

Faced with death, the princess discovered she didn’t particularly fancy it.

“I unfortunately have no food,” she said.

The dragon stepped unsteadily forward. I think you do.

“Humans actually taste awful, from what I hear,” Samansa said, panic making her voice shriller than she would have liked. She knew the dragon wouldn’t be terribly picky, if starving, but only wanted to distract her as she kept shuffling along the rock face. “What is your name?”

Her mother had always taught her to try to relate if she was ever taken captive and held for ransom. Keep them talking. Make them see you as human.

Except this time, being seen as human might not be ideal.

The dragon blinked cloudy eyes. You know, I don’t remember.

“Well, I, for one, am bonded to Kirek, favored heir of the Queen Mother!” Samansa declared in the haughtiest dragon-voice she could muster, searching for anything that might help her and hoping news didn’t travel fast out here.

She’d flown from High Nest just after the Queen Mother had been killed.

Word of the queen’s death and her heir’s…

disinheritance?… should especially not have reached a dragon that looked like an outcast from her own kind, if not a complete relic.

Which was also perhaps why her declaration seemed to have little effect. Whatever invisible walls such titles might have raised between her and a dragon before were as good as a mirage in this place.

Dragons can bond with humans? How strange , the dragon mused.

It didn’t seem like she disbelieved Samansa—quite the contrary.

Perhaps it will make your bitter human flesh taste better.

I don’t know this Kirek, but the Queen Mother banished me here, had my wings cut.

I prefer wild game, but vengeance is sweeter.

And you look to be the sweetest morsel I have seen in a long time.