Chapter Five
Mac
I couldn't believe our luck when I searched for things to do in Punky's hometown. West Des Moines didn't have much for dragon attractions, but Altoona had plenty, including an amusement park with a dragon rollercoaster and a casino with a horseracing track. We'd missed the Kentucky Derby by almost a month, but Galen hadn't lost interest in watching the horses go around the dirt track Punky had told him about.
The casino was no place for children, so as soon as we checked in at the hotel's front desk, I ushered Galen back to the van for a surprise.
The races started at four in the afternoon, and the sun was hot on the outdoor bleachers. We arrived just after five. I didn't know what horses would think if they caught wind of a dragon in their midst, so we sat as far up in the nosebleeds as we could. Thankfully, it was also in the shade of the building. I'd forgotten sunscreen.
"I don't have a hat," Galen complained. "I want a derby hat."
"This isn't the derby," I reminded them. "It's just a horse race. If you wear a hat, you'll draw even more attention to yourself."
They had already set the bartenders on edge by asking for mint juleps. When the cute human with pink hair shared they only served the drink during the Kentucky Derby, Galen had growled at them.
"But—"
"I will get you a hat to wear in our hotel room," I cajoled. The casino had a gift shop, and I'd noticed the row of hats was on sale. They had the current year embroidered on the hatband, along with the derby name.
The announcer called for everyone's attention for the next race, and Galen gripped my thigh as they leaned forward. "Where does it begin?"
I pointed just as the loud bang of a gun and clank of gates crashing open startled them. Their eyes flashed like stirred coals for a moment, but they tightened the spell that made them look human until their form was under control.
Galen's spell was far different from mine. Instead of a glamour I could see through, they were human in all but scent. It was so strange to feel their small hand on my knee, squeezing with excitement as the horses rounded the first turn.
The loudspeaker blared somewhere above us, calling the race as Morning Breakfast pulled into the lead.
"What kind of name is that?" Galen asked. "It's redundant. Careless Whisper is a better name."
"It's a song title," I shared.
"Morning Breakfast?" The pure disgust on their face made me laugh.
"No, Careless Whisper. That's why it's a better name."
The way Galen shook their shoulders did not resemble a human shrug. I wondered how long it would be before an unnamed human organization showed up at our hotel and asked us to leave the plane … or else.
Careless Whisper won the heat. We had six more races to sit through before the heat winners raced a last time for the jackpot. As I'd expected, Galen wanted to stay until the end. They also shouted themself hoarse during the last race, when Careless Whisper pulled into the lead early but then placed third.
"So close," Galen complained as I steered them into the gift shop on our way toward the exit closest to where we parked.
"That's why they call it gambling," I said. "Look, derby hats."
"They're ugly," Galen growled.
If the approaching human was scared, it didn't show. "We have a wider selection over here." The human's name tag read "Shelby."
"Thank you," Galen said with a slight bow as they followed Shelby further into the store, away from the sale items. I knew gift shops were expensive from the way Weld used to avoid them whenever he could, opting to buy birthday gifts for extractions at discount stores instead.
These hats were more extravagant and cost a fortune. Each one had a price tag over one hundred dollars.
"These are also ugly." Galen's bottom lip slipped in front of their top one as they pouted. It was the most human I'd seen them look all day.
Even Shelby was convinced. "I'm so sorry. We have one more hat in the corner. We call it the governor's choice."
There was a tiny section of hats, handbags, watches, and accessories all under a picture of a woman in her mid-sixties whom I assumed was the governor, whatever that was.
"That hat has horses on it." Galen pointed.
They weren't wrong. Plastic horses covered in felt raced around the hatband surrounded by silk roses.
Galen handed it to me while they dug in their back pocket for their wallet. The price tag on this hat was three-hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. That was far too expensive for my tastes, but I wasn't the one buying, and I certainly wouldn't be the one wearing it. Based on the chunk of gold Galen had pulled from somewhere, they could afford whatever they wanted.
"Horses!" Galen said. "All derby hats should have horses on them. Pass that on to the retailer."
"I'll make a note to do that first thing tomorrow," Shelby said. "We close at eight."
It was now ten minutes past, but I didn't blame Shelby for trying to make a sale.
"Do you receive commissions?" I asked.
Shelby's laugh was bitter. "Not a chance. I'm very glad you bought it, though. It's the nicest thing with the governor's name on it. The rest of her bootlickers will have to buy a handbag or watch instead."
"I'm no bootlicker," Galen said. "Where is this name located, so I can take it off?"
"No one back home will even know," I reassured them.
"I will know. Shelby?"
A quick snip of a pair of shears, and the tag bearing the governor's name slipped into a small waste bin behind the cash register. "Good as new. That'll be four-hundred-thirty-one dollars and ninety-nine cents."
Galen didn't question the price, but my heart stopped when I heard the total plus tax. I withheld judgment as Shelby grabbed a handmade hat box from a shelf, lined it with tissue paper, and placed the delicate hat inside.
It even came with its own canvas bag, marked "Governor's Choice," with an illegible signature scrawled over the top of the state seal.
Galen glanced over their shoulder as Shelby pulled a steel gate across the gift shop doorway after we left.
"That is a strange contraption," they said. "How will other shoppers get inside?"
"They're closed for business until tomorrow morning."
Galen frowned, and their scowl turned even darker when we walked outside. "The sky is still light," they said. "Why are they closed?"
"Humans set their time by their clocks, not their hours of sunlight," I reminded them. "It's almost summer, and these are the longest days of the year, but in a few months, it will be dark around this time." I didn't try to explain daylight saving time. We were only staying for a week.
"May I wear my hat now?"
"Wait until we get to the hotel," I said. "I don't want to cause any traffic accidents when someone sees you."
"It's a hat," Galen huffed. "Humans must see them all the time."
"Have you seen any humans wearing hats today?"
"Yes."
I must have missed them. "Describe them."
"There was a man wearing a baseball hat in the bleachers." Galen recognized baseball hats and visors thanks to our new outdoor sports facility. "Another wore a furry hat that only covered the top of his head."
"That was a toupee."
"To pay? I bet he paid too much," Galen quipped. "And a woman wore one of those sun visors the tennis players wear."
I shouldn't have been surprised. Galen was far more observant than I gave them credit.
"Hats like yours are rare," I said. "It's a fabulous item for your hoard, but not so great to wear in public."
They grinned. "It will shine among my treasures. Thank you for reminding me."
Appreciation was far easier to read on their human face, and I had to look away, pretending I needed to focus on the road. Now that I knew their sense of smell was weaker as a human, I hoped they couldn't tell how much I wanted them.
It was inevitable. We had a hotel room to ourselves, and only one queen bed. Lark had said it was cheaper. I believed him, but now that I knew Galen had plenty of money to cover our trip, I wondered if they would prefer a separate room.
"We could upgrade our room, if you'd like," I said as we approached the front desk in the hotel lobby.
Galen frowned at me. "Upgrade?"
I approached the young human behind the counter and asked, "Do you have any rooms available with two beds?"
"Sorry," they said. "We're booked for Pridefest this weekend."
I grabbed Galen's arm and whisked them away toward the nearest elevator so the clerk wouldn't hear them ask, "What is a pride fest? Is it like an infestation of lions, or what the Christians call a sin?"
A pair of teenagers sitting on a couch in the lobby burst out laughing, and my cheeks burned even hotter.
"No," I said. "It's a celebration. Fest, like festival."
"Pride is one of the seven deadly sins," they said.
They'd been paying attention to the documentaries I'd watched before bed for the last three years. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. I thought they fell asleep almost immediately after curling around me.
"Pride can become arrogance," I said, "but that's not how they mean it here. It means self-worth."
"I don't understand," Galen said. "They should have self-worth all the time, not only during this festival."
"I agree." Thankfully, we were the only ones waiting by the bank of elevators. Our room was on the third floor, and the lurch of elevator cars always made my stomach queasy.
Galen didn't seem to mind. They were familiar with the sensation of taking off and landing, I supposed.
When the doors closed, Galen pulled me close and sniffed my neck. "You wanted to get rid of me," they said. "That's why you asked for another room."
"Never. I only want you to be comfortable."
"You're my mate," they said. "I'm only comfortable with you."
Galen rested their forehead against my chest, and I was struck by our size difference. In his human form, the top of Galen's head fit snugly beneath my chin. I felt strangely protective of them as I wrapped my arms around their waist. Galen could have burned down the world, if they chose, yet here they were, cuddling against me because I didn't want to send them away.
I hoped I could protect Galen from the harsh realities of the human world, including how they treated anyone LGBTQ+. To Galen, being nonbinary was simply who they were. There were still some, okay, too many, humans who would assume Galen had a choice, that they had been assigned a specific gender at birth.
That was the coolest thing about dragons. They were all nonbinary at birth. They had only one intersex gender. In some cases, they could fertilize their own eggs. The practice would allow continuation of their species, if it came to that.
Like the other kobolds, I always assumed dragons mated with each other.
"Am I the first beta kobold to mate with a dragon?" I asked.
"Of course not," they said. "Most dragons came from kobold and dragon unions."
I stepped sideways for enough distance to tip their chin up and meet their gaze. "Did you?"
They nodded, and I nearly passed out from the shock. No wonder the dragons hated us so much. We hadn't involved them in a decision that would ultimately affect both of our species. Galen's previous non-answer, that betas no longer served dragons, now made more sense. It wasn't hard to deduce. Our genetic meddling must have caused the adult dragons to set fire to our kobold settlements. The village priestesses had different guesses for the dragons' reasons for wanting us dead, but none had suggested that we'd put their reproduction at risk.
Galen pressed themself to my chest again. "I much prefer a mate your size. I can't imagine trying to shrink even smaller. This is uncomfortable enough."
That was what he worried about? I tried to cover a laugh, but he felt my chest moving against his cheek and glared up at me.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Stop laughing."
I couldn't help it. The thought of Galen shrinking down to a tiny goblinesque creature who could fit in the chairs he'd first offered me in his cave … that was too much for my frazzled vacation brain to handle.
I patted their head, which made them even more angry.
"You'd be adorable."
"I could still burn every inch of skin from your body," they reminded me. "How 'adorable' would you think me then?"
The elevator jerked to a stop, and a bell rang as the doors slid open. Galen spun away from me and nearly plowed into a couple who were trying to enter the elevator at the same time they exited.
"Excuse you," the woman called after them.
It wouldn't take much to burn them to cinders, especially in a toasty metal elevator box. Either Galen didn't hear them or didn't understand they'd tried to insult them. Either way, it was a blessing. I offered a tiny shrug as an apology and followed Galen down the long corridor.