Page 8 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Chapter Five

There was a dragon in her barn. A huge, royal purple, injured dragon.

In her barn.

It didn’t matter how many times she repeated it. Alashiya couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that they were there, just down the hill from her home, let alone the notion that she hadn’t turned tail and run to the authorities the moment it became clear they couldn’t pursue her.

She’d had ample opportunities, and she’d nearly done it at least a dozen times as she made the trek back and forth to the barn, her arms laden with bloodied rags, medical supplies, and warm, soapy water.

During the long, miserable night she’d spent trapped within their grasp, she’d done nothing except plot her escape, movement by movement.

Her only other option had been to scream everytime they twitched in their sleep, fearing that they’d finally decided it was time for a midnight snack.

And yet she made another trip. She brought clean rags. She soaked and then gently rubbed off the copious dried blood from their thick hide. She built them a fire and checked that they were breathing.

Alashiya was fairly certain she was a coward of some fatal degree, but that hook in her chest simply wouldn’t let her abandon a person in need — even if that person could turn around and eat her with a single snap of its jaws.

Maybe it was habit. Hundreds of wounded and dying animals had come into her care over the years, each one bringing her joy and heartbreak in turn, so she reckoned that the dragon had inadvertently plucked a well-used heartstring.

She could no more turn her back on them than she could an injured bird. Which was, of course, ridiculous.

They’re the size of a bus, she groused, and they attacked me. They could turn on me at any second. I’m well within my rights to call the rangers.

But… they hadn’t been quite so frightening in the light of day. And despite their rough handling the previous night, they’d been very polite since. As polite as one could be, she imagined, when communication was limited to weak head movements and growls.

The look in their eyes had been much more alert than the previous night.

Even exhausted and in pain, there was an unmissable spark of intelligence in their gaze that hadn’t been there before.

It made her question whether they knew what they were doing at all when they crashed through her barn and snatched her.

It didn’t excuse their behavior, of course.

She still had a headache from slamming her head into the trough, and she sported a lovely patchwork of scrapes and bruises from their tussle.

Her knee was swollen, and each limping step she took to the barn reminded her of the risks she was taking.

Even if they hadn’t attacked her, the responsible thing to do for their sake was to call the authorities, who could get them proper care.

But she couldn’t shake off the look in their eyes whenever she broached the idea. There’d been a flare of wild panic, a desperation she knew well. They were afraid.

Alashiya knew what it was like to feel a fear so deep, it sank its teeth into the marrow of every bone. It shook her to realize someone as big and powerful as a dragon could feel it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d always assumed that predators were immune to that sort of thing.

So she didn’t walk in the opposite direction of the barn, toward the Thompsons’ farm.

She didn’t make the long trek to town. Alashiya trudged up and down the slight hill several times that day to check on her unwanted guest, her mind whirring as she tried to summon up what scant knowledge she and her grove possessed about dragons.

They seemed comfortable enough by the fire she’d built after chills began to shake their powerful frame.

A whisper of a memory teased her with the suggestion that dragons were nearly immune to most weather, so she tried not to worry about them overheating in her attempt to ward off humidity and the infections it could spawn beneath their dressings.

Whether that was a true fact she’d heard decades ago or merely a figment of her imagination, she couldn’t say.

All she knew for certain was that dragons were mighty beings who lived in tall towers. They could shift between two shapes, one beastly and another humanoid. And of course, she knew they breathed fire. The rest, like most of the world, was a mystery to her.

Learning about them had never been essential to her day to day survival, and seeing as she assumed she’d never encounter one, Alashiya was forced to base her decisions on what she could observe.

She was secretly delighted to discover the dragon changed color at sunrise and sunset. Royal purple gradually darkened into a black so deep it seemed to absorb the light of the fire. Only when the glow hit it just right did she discover it wasn’t true black, but held a remarkable crimson undertone.

Alashiya tried not to get too close if she could help it, so she found herself observing the dragon.

They were usually asleep when she slipped into the barn, their great, triangular head resting on their forelegs and their wings folded limply against their back.

Their tail, which was the length of their body, lay in a lazy circle around the fire.

She dodged it carefully and was always nearly silent when she visited, but they never failed to awaken as soon as she delicately crossed the boundary of their tail.

It was an awe-inspiring thing in the truest, oldest definition of the word to watch a sleeping dragon wake. No matter how many times it happened, Alashiya found herself freezing, a wave of goosebumps breaking out across her body as those massive eyes sprung open to fix her with an avid look.

There was no way of knowing what they saw when they looked at her. The most likely scenario was that she looked like a plump roast swaddled in linen, just ready for the oven.

Despite that, they never lunged for her.

In fact, they held perfectly still as she fed logs to the fire and quickly inspected their bandages, ignoring how some part of her fought to linger there, skin to skin with them, drawn by that powerful force lodged behind her breastbone.

A few of their bandages needed changing, but most were nearly clean of blood, which buoyed her optimism that the dragon would be able to see themself off in a few days.

Since she figured she would be stuck with them until then, Alashiya had several questions for the dragon, though she dreaded attempting to get any answers.

Hovering by the fire, she rubbed her toe into the dust and ash on the floor. The sun had hidden behind the dense clouds, obscuring what was probably a fiery summer sunset. She’d never liked being in the barn at night.

The spirits of her grove followed her, their whispers like the rustle of thousands of leaves in her ear.

She got the sense that they grew mournful when they saw how cold and desolate their old home became after sunset.

It was better to take them into her house, to feel them admiring her work as she embroidered by the light of her hearth, than to linger where so many of their mortal lives ended.

But having a dragon in the barn made it feel different.

The air was alive again. The scent of smoke conjured memories of dancing and hot meals.

She wouldn’t go so far as to say they were good company, but the dragon’s presence was big enough to fill the sad, empty space left by her grove, and that made it possible for her to stand there at all.

Alashiya took a deep breath. “You’re probably going to be here for a few days, so…”

The dragon’s head lifted, with some effort. They offered her a slow blink. It seemed to say, Go on. I’m listening.

“We should get some things out of the way,” she explained, gesturing to the dragon with a nervous flick of her wrist. “How about you nod once for yes, shake your head for no, and nod twice for neither.”

After another blink, the dragon nodded once.

Licking her lips, Alashiya forged ahead. “Let’s start with whether you’re male, female, or neither. Female?”

The dragon gave her a long look. At length, they shook their head.

Alashiya nodded. “Male?”

A nod.

“Are you an adult?”

The look in his eyes turned to one of unmistakable disbelief, like he couldn’t understand why she was asking him something so basic. There was a huff, followed by a firm nod.

“Do you live near here?”

The dragon paused for a long time. His eyes went in and out of focus the way she’d seen several times, and his lower jaw worked from side to side.

There was a struggle going on within that fearsome skull, but she couldn’t discern what it was about — or what side was winning.

Alashiya got the sense that whatever was happening, the dragon wasn’t all there.

He appeared dazed, and his eyes roved in a strange, skittering way she’d seen a handful of times in her life.

Eventually, he nodded twice. She frowned. “In this context, does that mean you don’t know?”

Another nod. Low, almost bird-like chirps bubbled up from that long, reptilian throat. When she only stared uncomprehendingly at him, oblivious to their meaning, the dragon’s lip curled with clear frustration, revealing those terrifying teeth.

“I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you.” She looked away as she rubbed at the sore spot on her forehead. “I wish I could talk to you like I talk to plants.”

The dragon’s head eased into her view. One of those huge violet eyes blinked, but not in the normal way. A clear eyelid slid over from one side. The intensity of his expression wasn’t dulled by its presence at all.

Feeling a bit like he was trying to urge her on, she offered him a wan smile and asked, “Do you need blankets? I know it’s warm, but a storm is coming and if you get wet, you might get sick.”