“Look. Now she’s laughing at us.”
Desperately fighting a bout of laughter, she ordered, “Stop talking to it.”
He shrugged. “Well you won’t talk to him…and he’s feeling awfully lonely. And I think you hurt his feelings.” Then he made it bounce twice in agreement.
Talaith covered her face and sighed. What exactly did her mother tell her the seven signs of madness were? Well, a dragon talking to his own shaft had to be one of them.
* * *
“Are you going to answer any questions this evening?”
“No.” She wouldn’t even look at him. For her, he’d shifted to human when they’d first arrived and had remained that way ever since. Yet still she wouldn’t look at him. If she didn’t like him human and she didn’t like him dragon, then what exactly did that leave?
“I don’t understand—”
“Please,” she sighed. “I am so tired. Can we not simply go to sleep?”
He gazed at her across the campfire and she did truly appear worn.
“Of course.”
He patted the ground next to him. “Come. You can sleep here.”
“Oh, you must be joking.”
“No. I’m not. I don’t have blankets for you. My body will keep you warm.”
“I just bet it will,” she muttered to herself. She seemed to do that a lot. Talk to herself. He found it…odd. To him she said, “Do I look that stupid to you?”
“You don’t look stupid at all. I don’t waste my time on stupid people.”
“Well that gives me ease.”
“I’ll make a promise to you. You’ll sleep here and I promise nothing will happen except sleep.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
Briec, for the first time in a very long time, became a little angry.
Slowly, he pulled himself up and walked across the burning campfire, enjoying the warm flames briefly surrounding his body, until he stood over her. Brown eyes stared up at him, and he no longer saw any fear. Most likely because now she spent most of her time hating him instead.“Are you questioning the word of a dragon, little human?”
She stood, looking much less fierce in her now filthy nightdress. “No. I’m questioning the word of you. You just happen to be a dragon.”
“My promises are much more reliable than some human might make.”
“You took me from my village…”
“I rescued you.”
“…and now you won’t let me go.”
“I break no laws, m’lady.”
“Dragon laws, which don’t affect me.”
“They affected you as soon as I saved you from those villagers.”
She stared up at him for several more moments then, growling, she turned from him and stepped away. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine on my own.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“It’s my right, or have I lost the ability to make all my own decisions?”
“Fine. Freeze in the night then. I don’t care.”
He turned from her and walked off into the woods, allowing his body to slowly shift back to dragon as he did so. He’d watch her and keep her safe, but he’d do it from a nice, respectable distance.
Briec didn’t understand this woman. Not at all. Even for a human she seemed damn strange. Was it not a mere hour or so ago she’d been laughing and smiling at his jokes? And now she’d returned to treating him like he’d wiped out her whole family.
He stopped in mid-stomp. Wait. Did I? He thought long and hard, then finally shook his head. No. He’d never damaged any villages or towns in Alsandair. So, he realized, he could be quite righteous in his anger and started walking again.
He didn’t have time for damn difficult women. Especially beautiful human ones. Perhaps the queen was right. Perhaps it was time to settle down with a nice dragon female. Pick a mate. Breed some hatchlings, if he absolutely must. He truly thought his older brother and heir to the Gwalchmai fab Gwyar throne would have taken care of the future heir situation for him so he wouldn’t have to worry one way or the other. But choosing a human as his mate, Fearghus resigned himself to a life without offspring. Of course, Fearghus seemed to like so few beings, perhaps that was in everyone’s best interest. Who knew what nightmare his brother would raise?
Briec settled his big body down and watched the woman from the trees, surrounding them both with a strong protection spell. She couldn’t see him. He was too far away for her human eyes. He didn’t know what he expected to see once she believed herself alone. But what he didn’t expect was for her to sit on the ground, her knees pulled up under her chin, her long arms wrapped around her legs. Then she turned her head and rested her cheek against her knees. She made no sound. She didn’t call for help. She didn’t try and leave.
Still, even from this distance, he could see her tears. He closed his eyes and fought his desire to return to her. His desire to shift back to human and to get her to stop crying the only way he knew how. It was a hard fight, but somehow he won.
As he watched her, looking so alone and so despondent, he tried to figure out what this feeling was he suddenly had. Deep in his chest, burrowing its way up his body.
It was something he’d never felt before and hoped to never feel again—the feeling he’d done something wrong. And that somehow he should feel bad for it.
He shook his head. No. He’d done nothing wrong. He was a dragon and this was how things were.