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I venture toward the cave entrance, cringing as I approach the cliff’s edge. Climbing the steps of the city wall yesterday was frightening, but I was so determined to shoot at dragons, I barely considered the peril. Without that frantic energy, my usual caution about heights has returned. And this height is dizzying beyond belief. If I’d been able to see how high this mountain really was last night, I would have screamed during the whole flight to its peak.
The view is stunning, though. Across the valley from us are more mountains, shorter than this one. Between them I can see flat stretches of grassy land, then more craggy peaks and bluffs, some cloaked with forest. To my left, beyond the mouth of the valley, I glimpse the ocean between tall columns of rock.
White lines march across the windswept meadows of the island. At first I think the lines are marked with shells, but then I realize I’m too far up for mere shells to stand out so clearly. I wonder… could they be… bones? That must be what they are—huge bones, bleached white by sun and sea. Dragon bones.
As I squint down at the valley floor, something small and distant crosses my vision. Then another shape, and a third. Too big to be birds. Those are dragons.
I lean slightly forward, peering down, trying to see if any of the dragons are carrying humans.
The hideous height seizes my mind, tilting everything, skewing my sense of balance, my perception. Frantically I grab for the cave wall, but my bare toes skid off a smooth part of the rock and I lose my footing. I waver on the edge, clawing rock, scrambling for stability.
With a crack of thunderous wings, the black dragon sweeps down from the sky and lands on the ledge, flinging something limp onto the floor of the cave. The gust of wind from his arrival finishes me, and I slip into midair with a shriek.
“Fuck,” growls the dragon, and he dives off the edge as well. He sweeps underneath me—a stupid idea, really, because his back is like a forest of lethal blades. Somehow I avoid being skewered. I smack into his shoulder and immediately slide off—there’s nothing to grip. My fingers catch on his scales, one of my nails tearing half off with a blazing rip of agony.
I’m falling again, tumbling ass over ankles through the clear, bright morning air.
The dragon roars with frustration and grabs at me, but he doesn’t catch me as neatly as he did yesterday—he’s weary, clumsy. His claws shear right through my dress and slash it wide open before he manages to grip my body. His wings pound the air, hoisting us both back up to the ledge.
He throws me into the cave. The bruises he gave me yesterday scream at the impact, and I choke out a pained sob.
“Foolish human,” he growls. “Do you want to die?”
Yes, whispers a voice inside me. But another voice cries, even louder, No.
I’m not sure which is true.
7
The human girl lies on her belly, propped on her forearms, her tangled yellow hair tumbling over her shoulder. Her tiny fists are clenched. The bits of gold jewelry at her ears and throat glitter in the sunlight.
I tore her dress when I was trying to save her. One of her slim legs is exposed, all the way up to her hip. The plump, soft mounds on her chest are showing as well. She notices and tugs her ruined garment up to partially cover them.
Those mounds—I believe humans call them breasts. I know that they are teats for suckling young, similar to those of a cow, a pig, or a sheep. Female dragons have no teats like other animals. We feed our hatchlings food that we soften in our own mouths.
The shape of the girl’s teats is strangely pleasing to me. But I’m distracted by the marks all over her arms and legs.
“What are those spots?” I ask. “Are you diseased?”
“No,” she hisses at me, her eyes blazing. “Those are bruises. It’s blood pooling beneath the surface of my skin. It means you hurt me.”
Dread coils in my belly. “But you have so many of them.”
“You hurt me many times yesterday, while you were carrying me so tightly.”
Fuck.
I want to apologize. But the words would feel strange, coming from the dragon who incinerated so many of her people, to the princess whose royal sorcerer slaughtered half a species.
“I will be more careful,” I tell her. “I need you in good health for the change.”
“The change?”
Instead of answering, I nudge the mountain goat carcass with my snout, pushing it closer to her. “I found prey quickly today. Unusual, and fortunate. You may have the first bite.”
The girl stares. “Do you know anything at all about humans?”
“Not much,” I admit.
