Page 26 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

I don’t leave her side for hours. I keep my nose tucked against her body, inhaling the warm scent that lets me know she’s still alive, still breathing.

The afternoon light wanes, and the mountain across the gorge from mine throws shadows over the mouth of the cave. An odd buzzing sensation passes along my bones, working its way outward to my scales, my wings. A shudder quakes through me, and then I feel my form shift.

I half-expected it, and it has happened once before, so although the change is startling, it doesn’t terrify me.

I can only imagine how the other dragons will react, though.

I hope they listened to our warnings and remained on the ground.

If any of them transform while flying too high, they will fall to their death.

My human limbs look the same as the first time.

My golden hair brushes my shoulders, like before.

I lean toward Thelise and kiss her cheek, then roll over and struggle out of the nest. My legs are easier to manage on the second try, though it still takes me a moment to stand up properly.

Unsteadily, with one hand braced against the rock wall, I make my way to the cave mouth.

By the dying light of day, I can see the mountain slopes and part of the valley below. I hear a few distant yells, but they sound like shock and anger, not pain. There are no screams.

Thelise knows I love being able to fly. If she cares about me at all, she will have ensured that I still get to enjoy that pleasure. Which means this human form must be temporary.

She told Kyreagan, “By this time tomorrow, you and your human captives will have far more in common.” It seemed like an obvious statement to me, with all the knowledge I have of her and what her magic can do.

But the Prince did not realize what she meant, and I didn’t enlighten him.

He won’t be pleased with her actions. He may even try to kill her. I must be ready for that.

I check the bags Thelise brought and locate the same pair of pants and the blue vest she gave me before—the ones I never got to wear.

Putting the clothes on is a struggle, but I manage it eventually and return to the nest. It seems unnecessarily huge and scratchy.

I crawl over to Thelise and lie down beside her on the blankets.

There’s not much else to do but wait and hope she recovers.

The thought crosses my mind that I’d like to play with my cock again, but I can’t summon any real desire.

My concern for Thelise is too strong. Like a powerful tide, it swamps everything else, submerges all other emotions.

I place my hand just above her breast to feel her breathing, and I watch the movement of her eyes.

There’s a violent restlessness in the way they flicker, and it occurs to me how much she must hate being trapped like this, immobile for hours.

She’s a vibrant soul. I’ve never met anyone more truly alive, and this state must be torture for her. Perhaps I should try to be amusing.

I clear my throat. “I’m not good at conversation.

I don’t think most dragons are. Well, Hinarax, perhaps.

He likes to talk. Never stops chattering, that one.

Me, I run out of things to say. But I’ll try, because I think you hate being stuck like this.

You were not made to be still and quiet.

I love how loudly you live, the freedom in the way you move, the lightness of your laughter. ”

Her eyes focus on me. She’s paying attention, so I keep talking.

“When I was very young, I used to have lessons about humans, taught by one of the Elders. We learned your history and culture. Generalities, mostly, not specifics. I picked up a few more details about humans during the Hunting Years, and more during these past several weeks of the war. None of that could have prepared me for you.”

An idea occurs to me, and I act on it immediately, sitting up and crossing my legs as I’ve seen her do. I draw her close, settling her head in the nest of my legs. Gently I work her hair out from beneath her head, draping it over my knee and thigh.

“Your hair is lovely,” I tell her. “I cannot find the words to express how it makes me feel. I must think of something else to tell you, something that might interest you. I could talk about the Hunting Years, when humans slaughtered my kind, but those years are painful to remember. As I told you, human hunters killed my mother. I came back with fresh prey only to find her lying dead on the shore, stripped of her hide, bleeding into the surf as the tide tugged her away. I will never forget the sight or the smell. The horror of it is carved onto my bones.”

I run my fingers through her hair, slowly, carefully.

“During my first mating season, I experienced such euphoria that it drove the horror from my mind. It was the first time I felt true relief from that torture. Afterward, as I told you, I began to pursue alethia. I wanted more of that relief, more oblivion from the pain of the past. I wanted to forget everything except pleasure, just for a little while. ”

My hand sweeps over her brow, brushing her hair away from her face.

“I’ve always felt a kinship with the young prince Varex.

He lost his mother, the Bone-Queen, in a terrible way.

We endured a similar pain, and I believe he felt some guilt, like I did, at not being able to save his mother.

But I know there was nothing I could have done.

I was only ten years past hatching, quite small and weak, not very good at fighting.

The prey I killed that day was a young goat with a damaged leg.

Not much to boast of. I would have been helpless to the hunters. ”

My thumb strokes along her eyebrow. I like the thickness of her brows, the confident arch of them.

“You didn’t tell me what happened to your mother,” I continue. “I assume she is dead, although I have heard that sometimes human parents abandon their families. Either way, you have all my sympathy. Know this: I will never abandon you. When I die, it will be in your service.”

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and I’m instantly repentant.

“I’ve made you sad. Fuck… I will try to think of something amusing.

A joke. Humans like jokes. I heard the Vohrainian soldiers tell a few.

There was one about a bard, a priest, and a knight entering a tavern, but I can’t recall the rest. Ah, I just thought of another one!

A man once told his wife, ‘I challenge you to tell me something that will make me happy and angry at the same time.’ The wife thought for a moment, then said, ‘Your cock is bigger than your brother’s. ’”

There’s a change in her breathing, a soft sound from her parted lips. I’m not sure if it was an attempt at a sob or a laugh.

“I don’t see the humor in it, but perhaps you do,” I say. “Dragons do not usually tell jokes. We craft riddles occasionally. Here’s one: What must be given before it can be kept?”

I wait a moment, watching her chest rise and fall quicker. Her eyes brighten, the lids lifting. She’s regaining some control, and she knows the answer to the riddle. She desperately wants to say it.

I grin. “You have no idea what the answer is, do you?”

Her chest heaves again, and she blinks.

“Perhaps you’re not as clever as I thought. Too bad.”

A hiss of protest issues between her teeth. It’s a good sign that her spirit is as strong as ever.

I could keep goading her, but I’m not sure that would be good for her body. The spell drained her, and she must take the time to fully recover.

“Rest easy, my darling,” I tell her. “I’m only taunting you a little. I know you know the answer. You are the most intelligent human I’ve ever met.”

Her breathing slows, and I can sense the easing of her tension. I stroke her temples, her forehead, her hair. “Hush, beautiful. Let your body recover.”

I can’t think of any more riddles or jokes, so I tell her about the Resting Cliffs, a place all dragons know, the point along the coastline of Elekstan where we prefer to enter the mainland. It lies in a direct line between the western beach of Ouroskelle and the capital city of Elekstan.

“The cliffs are so named because when we come to the mainland, we often land there to rest for a moment, since the area is both elevated and isolated. When we return to Ouroskelle, we like to catch the wind streams that flow from the top of the cliffs. Besides that, the area is beautiful. We like the way the faces of those cliffs sparkle in the sunlight. In fact, one of our Elders wrote a song about the Resting Cliffs.”

To pass the time, I sing the long poem to her in Dragonish.

After another hour, I shift our positions, lying on my back with her body draped against my chest. Night air wafts through the cave, its breath chilling my human skin, so I fold the edges of the blankets over us both.

In that cocoon of warmth and comfort, I sleep.

I wake to the sensation of slim fingers gliding over my chest. “Ashvelon,” Thelise whispers.

“You can move.” I rouse myself and collect her fingers in my hand. “You can speak again.”

“I’m starving, Ashvelon. And I’m thirsty. I’m not strong enough to get the things myself.”

“Say no more.” Carefully I move her off my body. Then I scramble out of the blankets and lunge from the nest much too quickly—my feet stumble over each other and I fall headlong.

Thelise gives a startled little laugh, then exclaims, “Are you alright?”

“Never fucking better.” I manage to climb to my feet. “Which bag is the food in?”

“There’s some in each of the bundles. Just find whatever you can.”

I hunt through the nearest bundle and return to the nest with several items. Thelise looks at them, then arches a brow at me. “That’s a bar of soap.”

“It smells good.”

“Yes, because it’s apple scented.”

“Why?”

“Because…” She sighs. “Let’s see what else you’ve got. Lip stain, a sponge, and a bottle of pain tonic. Darling, these aren’t edible.”