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The afternoon sun has warmed the rock, and it seeps through my scales into my bones. I can create my own heat, but it feels good to bask in the delicious warmth.
My father used to tell me that different elements or facets of nature fuel each dragon’s power. My ability is bright orange fire, so it makes sense that sunning myself would recharge my energy faster than merely resting. Varex, with his void magic, prefers the moonless dark, and will often go on midnight flights.
The sun may be restoring my magic, but it’s also making me sleepy. I am wounded at heart and weary in body, and the little rest I got last night wasn’t enough, so when I feel my eyes closing, I don’t fight it. My form is blocking the cave entrance. If the Princess heads for the cliff again, I will feel it, and I can stop her. Fortunately she seems less self-destructive now that she understands my true purpose. I should have explained it clearly from the beginning.
But as I said, I owe her nothing.
Bathed in the warm sunshine, I drift into sleep.
Until her voice breaks the silence.
“I once had a wife
Who took my life
And she buried me
Beneath the sea—”
Fuck. Her.
She’s singing loudly, jauntily. Disturbing my rest on purpose, as a small means of vengeance.
I will not give her the satisfaction of knowing she woke me up. Although the twitch of my pointed ears may have already given me away.
The Princess continues to sing:
“A sailor caught me in his net
From a boat that he won in a drunken bet
I swallowed his soul
So I could be whole—”
What a foolish tale, and what a stupid song. It goes round and round and there is no end to it, no end—who would invent such a despicable means of torture?
“Then I went to the tavern to barter for ale
And the barmaid begged, “Will you tell me a tale?”
So I said…
I once had a wife
Who took my life—”
Every time I begin to doze off again, the Princess changes the pitch or the volume of her voice. At last I can’t bear it any longer. I spring up and whip around, my tail lashing, my wings arched, and my jaws clenched.
She’s sitting in the nest, clad in ragged fragments of pink silk—one tied around her waist, the other wrapped around her chest. Her eyes are wide with mingled terror and excitement, and she’s smiling with triumph at eliciting a reaction from me.
By the bones, she’s fucking beautiful.
Words leave my throat in a reflexive snarl. “You disgust me.”
Her grin takes on a vicious edge. “Says the disgusting beast.”
I prowl toward her slowly, as if I’m approaching prey. “You will stop singing that song.”
