Page 7 of Lady Dragon

KIREK

Kirek kept her eyes only on Branon’s shoulders in anticipation of his attacks, not his sword, but she had seen it from the stands:

The new blade he held was sharp.

And he’d intended it for the princess. Challenging Merard first had been an obvious feint.

Kirek hadn’t hesitated as she’d risen to meet the challenge in Samansa’s stead. Not because she wanted to protect the princess, necessarily. She wanted to see what Branon would do against a dragon .

Would he risk hurting Kirek? Would he risk betraying that the blade was sharp, claim it was an accident, as he had with the kick to Jamsens and as he no doubt would have done with the princess, after he’d cut her, or even killed her?

He stood no chance of killing Kirek, but would he risk the treaty between humans and dragons?

Or would he shy from that edge, both real and imagined, and allow his own defeat?

Either way, Kirek was ready for him. And either way, she would learn more about his intentions toward her, if she’d already guessed what they were toward the princess.

The dragon girl’s eagerness to find out more didn’t entirely explain the saliva flooding her mouth. How she wished she could bring her teeth to bear upon him instead of this dull blade.

Just before her charge reached Branon, Kirek launched off one powerful leg and leaped, sword flashing in the air above her, to descend on him.

For a brief moment, Kirek felt the same sense of freedom, of release and unrestrained potential, that she felt when folding her wings and diving from thousands of feet in the air.

It was a bold move—it robbed her of mobility in this body, she knew, and left her midsection exposed. But Kirek didn’t care to display any show of swordsmanship, even if she could have. She was a dragon, and in her hands, her sword was the embodiment of her teeth and claws.

The speed and ferocity of her attack left Branon with no chance to gain the advantage.

He brought his blade up in a purely reflexive parry, and the ringing sound of steel striking steel resounded so loudly that several members of the audience shrieked and covered their ears.

Kirek felt the blow from her fingertips to her shoulders, but she didn’t let that stop her.

She’d barely landed on her feet where Branon had once been before she swept her sword away and around in a huge arc, slicing straight at his legs with enough force to cut him off at the knees, dull blade or not.

Branon only narrowly leaped out of the way in time, hissing and dancing back, bringing his sword up at his shoulder, pointing the blade at Kirek. Good thing, because she swung straight for his face next.

If Kirek was all untrained violence, Branon still knew the language she was speaking.

He batted her blow aside, whether through urgent reflex or perfect skill, and drove the point of his own sword at her—which, unlike Kirek’s weapon, was brutally sharp, the edge gleaming in the sunlight.

Most would have dodged or fallen back, but Kirek simply tipped her head to the side, the blade whistling by her cheek as she let it pass.

And then she thrust her own sword forward in another attack, almost ignoring his entirely.

He dodged just as she had, if with less economy of movement, stepping wide and giving Kirek the opening to twist her wrist and bring her hilt around, slamming Branon in the shoulder with her pommel and sending him staggering.

Still without bothering to defend, she lashed out once more, moving with a fluidity and power that was less a fight and more a flight on invisible wings.

Her heart pounded not out of exertion but exultation, her phantom jaws lusting to feel his skin give under her fangs, to taste his lifeblood on her tongue.

Her eyes met his, and she saw his understanding reflected back at her—his fear.

He was right to fear her.

He tried to trap her sword, to dodge and nick her, but she gave him no respite.

Blow after blow, she drove Branon across the courtyard, the only sound the exuberant hiss of her breath and the painful clamor of weapon on weapon.

Such an unguarded onslaught gave the prince opening to slip his own blade through to her in a more direct way, and she nearly welcomed it.

If she felt the bite of his sword, maybe she would bite back.

But Branon never seized the opportunity, only retreated, and eventually, when she knocked his blade wide, she raised her leg and slammed her boot down upon it, tearing the hilt from his grip. Her own sword halted mid-swing only a hair’s breadth from taking off his head.

“ You lose,” she hissed in his face.

“I might argue you’re disqualified,” Branon muttered through his teeth, sweat shining on his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving, “because you didn’t wait for the start of the match.”

“And I might argue your blade is sharp,” the dragon girl breathed in return.

That drew him up short. He watched her warily, ignoring the edge at his neck, his eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger—and maybe even alarm—but he didn’t say a thing before Kirek turned her back on him with no little satisfaction.

She tossed her sword aside in the dirt and strolled to the front of the stands, where Samansa was on her feet, staring down at her with wide eyes, gripping the railing with clenched hands.

The dragon girl didn’t like feeling so low to the ground, and besides, she could continue to make it easier on the princess by getting closer.

So she vaulted back up onto the wooden platform as smoothly as a jump and a swing of her legs.

As she landed in front of Samansa, the princess took a startled step back—ever so flinching. Though perhaps Kirek had just demonstrated what a dragon could still do, even in this limited form.

“Have I earned your favor now?” Kirek asked with a smirk.

“I…,” Samansa said, sounding breathless. “I suppose you have.”

When she took a hesitant step toward Kirek, the dragon girl realized she had no idea what receiving the princess’s favor would entail. So she froze, waiting, as Samansa reached forward with a silk kerchief patterned in flowers, took Kirek’s arm, and tied it around the top.

“The outward sign of my favor,” the princess murmured. “And here’s the proof.”

And then she leaned forward and kissed Kirek’s cheek, needing to tilt her head upward to reach, exposing her own throat to Kirek’s teeth—though the dragon girl was hardly thinking about a return strike.

Kirek had never been kissed before. Samansa’s lips were soft, nothing of a threat, and yet they sent a thrilling sensation from their point of contact down to the dragon girl’s toes. Kirek nearly staggered back like she hadn’t against any of Branon’s blows, but she forced her boots to stay planted.

“There you have it,” Samansa said, pulling away. Her hands lingered for a moment on Kirek’s arm. “You can tell me how much it’s worth.” She smiled, almost sadly. “Perhaps not much at all.”

If Kirek could have spoken, she didn’t know what she would have said. As it was, her voice was choked in her throat. So she spun away from the princess and stalked off, wondering what under the skies had overcome her.

Kirek retired early to her quarters with the excuse that she was tired—proving that the humans were entirely gullible, as she wasn’t remotely weary.

She felt giddy from what she had uncovered with Branon, and as sharp as the steel that had nearly cut her.

Which she needed to be before her mother, the Mother, with whom she was about to speak.

And yet, her mind kept drifting back to the strange sensation that had gripped her when Samansa had kissed her. Kirek scrubbed at her cheek now, as if to dash the feeling away. She blamed this unpredictable human body, and brought her mind firmly back to the task at hand.

She bolted her door and faced her chamber at the top of the tallest tower in the keep—the one place here where she didn’t feel entirely claustrophobic.

The walls of the yawning circular room stretched high overhead, lined in stained glass windows and tapestries depicting dragons in flight, ringed in bright torches, and, most importantly, cut with a giant double door that opened onto a harrowing drop and the endless night sky outside.

But for all that she wanted to, she didn’t crank the lever to throw them open and free herself from these walls and this body.

Instead, she stalked to the farthest point of the room to a small, discreet alcove, barely noticeable amid the grand proportions of the rest of the place.

For all their careful attention to the details a dragon might appreciate, humans had built into this place something they perhaps did not intend.

Something that had been placed by the will of a dragon long ago and then forgotten—at least by the humans.

Every dragon who’d come here with the Heartstone since had known of its existence.

A crystal sat in the alcove like an unmoving silver flame. A pretty decoration hidden among so many others—at least, that’s what it appeared at a glance.

But it was far more.

Kirek knew what it was, if not the how it had come into being, just like the Heartstone at her breast. This was a Songstone. One of only two she was aware of, while there was only one Heartstone.

The other matching Songstone was in High Nest, in the Queen Mother’s lair.

She cupped her hands around the crystal, leaning in to blow upon it like she would a true flame. Rather, as she would while stuck in this human body. As a dragon, she would shoot the flame from her mouth.

But this wasn’t a true flame, and while it was a stone, it was also something else. A portal, in a sense—if only for voices.

Dragons—when not trapped in this debased form—didn’t speak like humans.

They spoke without sound, but with silent voices clearer and more ringing than anyone would find here.

Only dragons could comprehend dragon-speech, but thankfully the Heartstone still graced Kirek with the ability to understand.

She could only respond in her wretched human voice, but fortunately dragons had learned to parse the jumbled sounds of human speech long ago, during the War of Fire.

The better to know their one-time enemy.

So if a human were to enter now, they might only find Kirek speaking at the wall, and not hear the silent voice emanating from the crystal.

My daughter, what have you found?

There was no asking about Kirek’s welfare or comfort or health like humans did.

The words cut straight to the bone. She didn’t expect any different.

This was only the second time they’d spoken, the first being when she arrived and tested the initial connection between the Songstones.

There was a chance the stones could have failed since her mother had been here fourscore years prior, but they were still functional.

Good thing, as the key to creating or even repairing such things had been lost, not only to humans but to dragons, and Kirek wouldn’t have had the first clue as to how to fix it.

She would have been utterly isolated here.

“Mother,” Kirek responded quietly. She doubted any human could be listening, but she was ever cautious. “There is… unrest among the men here.” She hesitated, prompting the dragon queen to prod:

Which men?

Kirek hesitated again, inexplicably not wanting to expose this weakness so soon. Perhaps because it was premature and not as much of a vulnerability as she might think, making her seem hastily imprudent—something your opponent could take advantage of in turn.

Or perhaps it was out of consideration for someone who was entirely too vulnerable, too easily rent with her claws if she wasn’t careful. But Kirek wasn’t here to protect anyone, no matter how much certain people seemed to need it. She was here to learn. And report back.

So she forced herself to say, “At least one man among those with the most power in Andrath—the queen’s son, Branon, elder brother of the heir.”

Interesting , the Queen Mother responded. Does he have support?

“Possibly. He spoke brazenly to me in front of his queen and the daughter heir, so much that he either didn’t fear death, or was confident he wasn’t risking his life.

And then he tried to use a sharp blade against the princess when it should have been dull, during one of these ridiculous practice fights of theirs, but I fought him instead. ”

Dig deeper into any possible support he might have. What were his intentions toward you?

Kirek felt her jaw clench with the remembered desire to bite . “He held back his strength, allowing me to beat him easily. I imagine that he would like our support, not our resistance to his potential rule. That he would like peace between men and dragons.”

And if he doesn’t receive our support, would he still act against his sister? her mother asked.

“I’m not certain. Perhaps. Though I have no proof, only instinct.”

Trust your instinct when it comes to men. There was a pause. This is interesting, indeed. If he were to more forcefully argue his point with the might of men behind him, he would be breaking the Treaty. Or…

Kirek waited. Only belatedly did she realize she was holding her breath.

We could suggest a new treaty , the dragon queen finished.

Kirek’s words came in a rush. “But if, as you say, men can’t be trusted, why would we allow their schemes to advance?”

Abruptly, her mother changed the topic. How do you find the daughter heir?

“She’s…” Again, Kirek hesitated. “Soft and weak, of course, as all humans are, even men. But she’s not entirely undeserving of the title.”

As soon as the statement was out of her mouth, she wasn’t certain she believed it. So why did she say it?

Are you gaining her trust? her mother asked.

“Perhaps. I’ve defended her against her brother, in word and in battle. I won her favor , such that it is.”

That wasn’t the only reason Kirek had defended her, though she wasn’t entirely sure what her other motive had been. The dragon girl still felt the whisper of the princess’s lips against her cheek and felt herself touching the kerchief tied around her arm, the silk soft between her fingers .

How was something so yielding so surprising?

Good , her mother said. Keep her favor and continue gaining her trust.

Kirek shivered as if against a sudden chill, and yet there was nothing cold around her except the dragon queen’s voice in her head.