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God, no. No, no, no.
I did the right thing putting distance between us. I can’t allow him to get that close to me again.
The afternoon and evening pass slowly. Dragons stop by the cave several times to converse with my captor in Dragonish. They always lower their heads in deference to him before starting to speak. It seems they are bringing him problems and concerns to solve, which he addresses in a calm, steady tone. Each visitor leaves the cave reassured.
I hate to admit it to myself, but he seems like a decent ruler… except for the widespread slaughter of my people, of course. But as he said, my mother is somewhat to blame for that. Her pride would not allow her to yield, not even when our doom was certain.
The last visitor of the day arrives at sunset. It’s Rothkuri, the blue dragon whose captive seemed far more content than I am. A delicious fragrance precedes his arrival, and when he lands, I can’t help hurrying forward. He carries a cloth bundle between his jaws, and when he sets it down and scrapes back the fabric with one claw, a hunk of roasted meat tumbles out.
A cry of eagerness breaks from me before I can stop it. The meat is still hot, its juices steaming.
“My Prince, this venison was prepared by some of the women,” he says in the Eventongue. “It’s for your treasure.” He bows his head to me.
Treasure? I like that better than “captive.”
“She’s not my treasure,” growls the black dragon.
I return Rothkuri’s bow. “Here’s someone who knows how to treat a woman,” I say pointedly. “You have my thanks.”
The blue dragon’s eyes brighten, and he moves forward with sinuous grace. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a lustful light in his gaze, a suggestive flair in the way his tongue darts between his fangs when he says, “You are most welcome, Your Loveliness. If there’s anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable, more welcome—”
“Enough,” snarls my captor. “Leave the meat, and see to your own woman.”
“Of course, my Prince.” With another dip of his head to me, Rothkuri flies away.
I seize the meat at once and take a bite. It’s delicious, seasoned with herbs.
“They shouldn’t be pampering their women like this,” says my captor. “You must all learn to consume your meat raw, as dragons do.”
“Why must we learn it now? There’s plenty of time for that after we become dragons—if we ever do.” I take another bite, moaning a little at the flavor of the venison.
The black dragon watches with narrowed eyes. “Next time, I will cook your meat for you, with my fire.”
“You think I want meat that’s been charred black by your dragon-breath? No, thank you.”
“You’re very picky.”
“Is it picky to want edible food?” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Perhaps you should fly off to the other caves and see how your people are treating their women. Apparently some of them are much better at it than you.”
“And some are far worse,” he retorts. “I’m leaving to hunt. Don’t destroy yourself while I’m out.”
“Clearly I’m interested in surviving, at least until I’ve finished this meal. Go on, and stay out as late as possible. I’ll sleep better without your stench befouling the place.”
He rears back with an offended snort. “I do not have a stench.”
“I’m just saying, one of us bathed today, and one of us didn’t. You smell like raw goat and old saddle… and dirt.”
He hisses at me, and I hide my grin by taking another bite of roasted venison. With my mouth full, I say, “Before you go, I need a source of light and heat. Fetch me some wood for a fire.”
“I have dyre-stones here in the cave. I can heat one of those for you.”
“I don’t know what a dyre-stone is, but I want a fire. A crackling, popping fire that smells good and is fun to watch. Make me a fire.”
“You misunderstand your situation,” he replies. “You seem to be laboring under the delusion that I must provide you with everything you want, and obey your every demand. That is not the case at all.”
“Fine. The next time I see one of your fellow dragons, I’ll make it known how poorly their leader is treating me. Perhaps one of them will adopt me and care for me as I deserve.”
“What you deserve,” he snarls, “is a dark pit full of stagnant water and blood-beetles, you little irritant. You’re such a nuisance, it’s no wonder your mother didn’t—” He cuts himself off, but it’s too late. I can guess what he was about to say.
