Eventually, I force my eyes open?—
And find a young boy leaning over me, his face so close to mine that I almost scream.
I jolt upright with a gasp, sending him tumbling backward.
He collides with a massive dog that's sitting just behind him, sinking into its shaggy chest and clutching the creature's long leg for support. The dog is jet black and bigger than any I've ever seen—more like a small horse, really. It lets out a low whine and then proceeds to comfort the boy with a series of increasingly aggressive face-licks. The boy eventually laughs, pushing the dog away, and shifts his gaze back to me.
We study each other for a moment.
He must be a member of the royal family, because he looksexactlylike a miniature Reave. The same wavy, dark auburn hair with hints of gold, the same arresting, pale blue eyes. His clothing is finely made, too, layers of richly-colored and embellished fabrics, along with delicate gloves that look far too clean for a child his age.
The dog whines again, his tail thumping uncertainly.
“It's okay, Ruffus,” the boy insists, giving it a quick belly rub before inching toward me with a frown. “…Youareokay, aren't you?”
I can't help smiling a bit at what seems like genuine concern.
“I've been worse,” I say, in my most reassuring tone. It's a habit I established back in the Burn, where the children were always clamoring for stories about my jobs, always wanting to know the most gruesome details. I made a point of nevertelling them the whole truth, of never letting them know when I was hurting. They had enough pain and suffering in their lives; I figured they didn't need to know about every horror that existed outside of it.
And this royal child might have an easier life compared to most, but I still can't resist the urge to reassure him, to protect him from the darker things I'm dealing with.
“This is a strange place for you to take a nap,” he says.
“You're not wrong.” I stretch, trying not to wince. “But that wasn't what I was actually doing here.”
His little brow furrows in consideration.
“What areyoudoing here?” I ask.
“I came to see your dragon,” he informs me. He's clearly fighting the urge to look in the direction of said dragon, trying to be polite and wait for permission first. “Can I see her?”
She's not mine, I start to say.
Instead, I tip my head toward Blight. “Be my guest, kid.”
“Arlo.”
“What?”
“My name is Prince Arlo, notkid.”
“Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you, then.” I offer my hand.
He takes it and plants a shy kiss on my knuckles, then grins before jumping up and skipping toward the dragon. The dog—Ruffus, apparently—trots happily at his heels, towering over the boy even now that they're both standing up. It's undoubtedly large, but the more I study Arlo, the more I'm convinced that he's also unusually scrawny. He doesn't look much better fed than any of the children of the Burn, really.
He slows as he approaches Blight, giving her a small wave when she lifts her head. He looks her directly in the eyes,speaking in a low, soothing voice as she appraises him, and again I find myself smiling against my will.
Apparently, the asshole gene that runs in their family didn't get this one.
Or maybe it just hasn't had time to manifest.
Slowly, I get to my feet, trying to work the stiffness from my aching knee while keeping an eye on the interaction. Blight has lowered her head to the boy's level, her frill half-raised in what might be curiosity. I tense as the young prince reaches out a hand to her. Old habits. Arlo shows no fear at all, but I still can't bring myself to trust that a dragon wouldn't bite off a child's hand without a moment's hesitation.
Which is also why I linger in the arena, even though I really just want to hobble up to my room and call it a day; I don't want to leave this child alone.
Sighing, I stiffly make my way closer, positioning myself within reach in case I need to intervene. Once there, I don't speak. I just watch.
The dragon stretches her snout toward the prince’s gloved fingertips, giving them a quick sniff, then promptly sneezing all over them—which makes Arlo giggle. She appears to like the sound of his laugh, because it makes her shuffle a little closer to him.
