As my teeth rip through my current challenger’s wing, I wonder how my princess is doing.
I haven’t seen her in hours, though the regular updates from her guards have left me satisfied both with her comfort and her security.
The drawing is going well, Your Majesty.
She has taken her midday meal.
A request was made for pomegranates. It is being fulfilled now.
My challenger—Alnen? Arten? Something of the sort—leaps back, his eyes widening with shock at the sight of his tattered wing. He’s barely past fledgling age and suffering from a terrible case of hubris, which suits me fine just now.
It gives me plenty of time to imagine tonight.
She’ll be there, sitting cross-legged on the sand, brow furrowed in concentration, skin glistening like polished diamonds. When her brilliant eyes open on me, she’ll smile and say my given name, and I will say hers.
Serah.
Humans do not value their given names as our kind does. I know this. Rally has told me. Yet I purr withunrestrained pleasure at the thought of her face when I did say it, when she looked at me with such unguarded surprise.
She has allowed me her name. She has allowed me her lips.
Yet again, it is a glorious day indeed.
My challenger—Alson? No, that is not it—is recovering. I study the greenish hue of his scales as he bares his teeth at me. What an unusual color. He likely descended from the dragons of the great western woods, where my father said the trees grow taller than Tirenth’s highest spire. I briefly wonder if my father is there now and decide I do not care instead.
I will call my challenger Arugula for now. Arugula lets out a roar of rage—a waste of breath until you’ve won—tucks his wings tight against his sides, and charges like a crazed bull.
Should the princess and I enjoy cake again this evening or call for a sorbet, I wonder.Perhaps I will send her a sorbet now and join her for cake later.
Arugula is near enough to consider now, and with a thrust of my own wings, I leap above him and come down to drive his head into the sand. He thrashes, of course, but eventually relents, stilling completely beneath my feet as a sign of surrender in lieu of shutting his eyes and looking aside. I step off him, and he comes up spluttering and gasping and already shrinking down into human form.
The crowd cheers, their cries even louder at this victory than the last. I spared Arugula more shame; they know it and are pleased.
Rally and Ty meet me as I transform.
“Invite him to be trained,” I say as I close my robe.
Ty scoffs.He was reckless, he signs.
“He was, but his earlier movements showed promise. He has talent.”
“If he can rein in that ego of his,” Rally says.
I nod my assent and glance toward the sun. Sunset approaches, and with it, my time with Serah.
“How many are still waiting?” I ask.
“Two,” Rally says. “There were another three, but…”
Ty casts a thumb back, his shoulders rocking with silent laughter.
I squint toward the cluster of servants hurrying this way. “I will fight one more.AfterI eat.”
A tent is set up, food brought, and when I am licking the remnants of the penultimate honey cake from my fingers, a young messenger from the palace arrives. Rally listens to the boy’s quiet words before nodding and dismissing him.
“Boy,” I call.
When he turns, his eyes large with alarm, I toss him the final cake. Beaming, the lad bows, belts out a “Thank you, Your Majesty,” and scampers away.
