Page 8 of Lady Dragon

SAMANSA

After the tourney, Samansa stood in the throne room, staring at the sword mounted above her mother’s gold-and-jewel-encrusted seat.

She didn’t entirely know how she had found herself there, but there she was, frustration climbing within her.

At first, she’d only felt numb after Kirek had walked away from her, but like flesh waking from the cold, she now felt the sting.

The sword’s silver-and-gold-twined hilt was topped in a sapphire bigger than her eye, but that wasn’t why it had always transfixed her. It was a sword of queens , not kings. While it had all the trappings a queen might wear, under the ornate scabbard was a blade of sharpest steel.

Samansa wanted—needed—to uncover such steel within herself.

The princess wasn’t sure exactly what had happened in the arena when she’d granted Kirek her favor.

It had seemed to mean something to the dragon girl until she’d just turned her back as if it was nothing.

In any case, Samansa knew Kirek still found her lacking, and it made her teeth grind.

She struggled with feeling inadequate everywhere else; she didn’t need someone new to contribute. A dragon, no less .

Besides, the dragon girl was wrong about her, at least in some regards.

Samansa had watched Kirek fight, and while the dragon girl was formidable—enough to beat Branon, though the princess wasn’t certain her brother hadn’t thrown the fight to stay in the dragons’ good graces—Kirek’s skills were untrained.

She was all brute force and speed, for the most part.

And while that could compensate for a lot, it wasn’t everything.

Samansa knew much about compensating in the reverse: using technique to combat the strength she didn’t possess.

Just because she hadn’t wanted to fight Branon didn’t mean she didn’t know how. And she wanted to prove it to the dragon girl. To bare her steel. Or, perhaps, show her teeth once more.

On the morning of the fourth day of being forced together, for the most part sitting silently and stiffly next to each other through tedious lectures on each other’s cultures—the mark of favor still tied conspicuously around Kirek’s arm, much to Samansa’s surprise—the princess spotted the opportunity.

She was walking by the courtyard that composed the private sparring ground of the royal family, Dara at her side, both of them headed for the bathhouse, when she saw Kirek perched on a stone bench within, sharpening her sword.

“Dara, go on ahead,” Samansa said breathlessly.

“But—” Dara started, concern in her voice as she followed the princess’s gaze.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Samansa couldn’t exactly promise that, but Dara obeyed, darting off with her head down, casting only a worried glance back at the princess, but Samansa’s eyes were entirely locked on Kirek.

The dragon girl’s own eyes were downcast, her head bent, the straight sheets of her purplish-gray hair swinging forward to somehow give her a softer appearance in the slanting early sun.

That impression was dashed immediately when the dragon girl sensed she was there and looked up, her sharp silver irises spearing Samansa straight through.

Samansa was pleased with herself that she didn’t pause in her approach, let alone take a step back. Instead, she felt something rise within her to meet the challenge of the dragon girl as she marched toward her across the courtyard.

She tossed her head at the sword in Kirek’s hands. “I thought you were already honed.”

Kirek’s lips twitched in what Samansa was beginning to assume was the most the dragon could give of a genuine smile. “These human ‘teeth’ need constant upkeep. But I am always honed. Care to try me?”

Samansa started for the weapons rack. “Why not?”

Kirek blinked. “I didn’t mean crossing blades in seriousness.”

Samansa turned, hefting her favorite practice sword. The edges were dull, but it was solid steel. “How else can I try you?” Her cheeks flushed as she realized how that might sound. “Cross you, rather. Other than making you cross with me. Which I seem to do with great regularity.”

The dragon girl looked oddly uncertain as she stood, holding her own blade like something suddenly unfamiliar. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Her eyebrows drew together in a pinched frown. “I mean, it wouldn’t be good for the relations between our species if I did, to say the least.”

“Use one of the practice blades if it puts you more at ease,” Samansa said. “It matters naught to me. ”

“Unflinching, for once?” Kirek asked, exchanging her freshly sharpened blade for a dull one. “Just because I don’t want to hurt you, don’t think I’ll be soft on you.”

Samansa grinned, baring her teeth in what she was beginning to expect was a sign of aggression for dragons. “I’m counting on it.” And then she swung for the dragon girl.

Kirek barely got her sword up in time, her usual hard features registering surprise.

“Was that a flinch I saw?” Samansa taunted, and pivoted away, her skirts swirling around her.

She hadn’t planned for this, or else she would have worn trousers instead of a dressing gown.

But the lack of planning was precisely why she felt so comfortable.

No audience. No Branon to watch and judge her—to find her lacking, as he always did.

This was only between her and Kirek, and while the princess perhaps should have been intimidated by the dragon girl, or felt more lacking next to her than anyone, something had changed between them during the tourney, whatever Kirek had felt about receiving her favor.

The dragon girl had come to her defense, which made Samansa want to show her that she wasn’t defenseless herself.

It took another lunge for Kirek to finally engage fully, as if she still couldn’t believe Samansa was attacking her.

Her parries started off hesitant, until Samansa’s offense forced them to come faster.

Soon, they were both breathing harder, their footwork spinning them in a swift dance around each other.

After a few exchanges, it became apparent that the dragon girl was far stronger than her, but indeed lacking in technique—technique that had been beaten into Samansa since she was five years old .

A clash brought them face-to-face over the bind of their blades. Neither of them gave ground, even though Samansa’s arms were shaking under the force of the dragon girl’s swing.

“Where did you learn this?” Kirek demanded, her bright eyes narrowed in suspicion, almost.

“You think I can’t know such things?” Samansa panted, and then disengaged such that she sent Kirek stumbling. “Jamsens taught me. And my brother. My mother as well.” She twirled her blade. “All queens learn how to handle themselves in battle.”

Kirek flicked her own sword, as if unimpressed that it couldn’t do the same trick as Samansa’s.

And then she charged, her blade lashing out.

It was like trying to defend against a firestorm.

All Samansa could do was give ground until her heel hit a wall.

Technique or not, the dragon girl was as strong as stone and as quick as lightning.

You know what beats rock? Molten rock. Samansa could still hear those words as if whispered in her ear.

She thought the fight would end there—and she was proud of herself for lasting as long as she had—but surprisingly Kirek pressed closer, until their crossed blades were the only thing that separated them.

She even leaned in, flattening the princess’s back against the wall, looming over her.

Samansa couldn’t meet her eyes at first. Her chest was heaving between them, pressing against Kirek’s leather armor with each breath, sweat beaded on her skin. So close—they were so close.

The princess looked up, flushed from more than exertion, to see the feral light in the dragon girl’s eyes. She was staring down at her as if she wanted to eat her.

Samansa should have been afraid. Instead, she breathed, “I would love to see you go truly wild. ”

Abruptly, Kirek disengaged and stepped back. “No,” she said shortly. “You wouldn’t.”

Samansa pushed off the wall, looking away and letting her own sword droop. She could feel her cheeks burning even more. What had she been thinking, to say such a thing? She cleared her throat. “Perhaps I misspoke. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Kirek abruptly looked abashed.

Why? Samansa wondered.

“If my eating habits frighten you, I don’t think you want to see me lose control in this body. I’m less stable like this. Wilder. If you mean you wish to see me as the dragon I truly am, I might disappoint with my steadiness.”

It was odd to hear her refer to this body as not hers when she was standing right in front of Samansa, waving a sword about—odd to imagine her having any other form but this brilliantly honed one. But, of course, Kirek wasn’t human.

“I would think with the greater strength and ferocity of a dragon’s body,” Samansa started, “you would be more…” Beastly. She didn’t want to finish the thought and destroy diplomatic relations between their species in one fell swoop. “Uninhibited,” she said instead. “How is this body wilder?”

She remembered a flash of those silver eyes over bloody meat. Yes, watching her eat had been frightening, but also thrilling. Watching her fight—and then fighting with her—even more so.

Kirek rubbed her chin in thought. “I don’t have as many… emotions… I would say, in my true form. Those we feel, we feel strongly, but they’re not as varied or unbridled.” She shrugged, and then moved to put her practice sword back on the rack.

“Such as?” Samansa asked, following her at a distance .

The dragon girl turned to meet her eyes. “We feel anger, but it’s not hot like yours. It’s cold. Deep and abiding. It doesn’t burn itself out quickly.”

Samansa stepped closer, but kept the rack between them. She wasn’t afraid, but it somehow felt safer that way, to have something separating them. “What else?”

Kirek’s lips twitched. “Irritation. Great irritation.”