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“I want you to let me go!” I scream back.
“No.” He crouches, prowling closer, his eyes molten. “You are mine. I have nothing left but this—to ensure that dragonkind survives. I swore a bone-oath to my father as he lay dying. I am compelled to protect this clan, do you understand? I must do whatever it takes.” His deep voice breaks. There is such desperation in it that my anger fades.
“Is this any way to start a new generation?” I ask him. “By forcing us to participate in the mating season?”
“You will not be forced. In dragon form you will feel the urge—you will be eager to participate.”
“You can’t see that this is wrong, can you?”
“Sometimes what is wrong is necessary. Like the war. A ruler may hate what has to be done, but he does it anyway.”
I dig my nails into my palms, trying to contain my frustration. Screaming at him won’t help.
“You remind me of my mother,” I say quietly.
“I am nothing like the fucking Queen of Elekstan,” he hisses.
“You’re more like her than you want to admit.”
“Enough of this.” He throws himself down onto the nest, and my body bounces a little from his impact on the thick, matted grass. “Sleep.”
“I will, but not because you tell me to.” A childish thing to say, I suppose, but I need every bit of agency I can grasp.
“No singing,” he warns.
A short silence, wherein I believe he realizes his mistake.
I clear my throat. “I once had a wife who took my life…”
11
The Princess’s voice lulled me to sleep last night. It grew softer after about a dozen verses, her weariness overcoming her desire to annoy me. She is still sleeping this morning when I leave my cave and fly down to the cavern on the ground, where some of my dragons have corralled their women.
Back when we used the cave for flocks, we erected a barrier of stones and fallen trees around the entrance, to keep away the fenwolves. Now the space within serves as a courtyard of sorts, big enough to accommodate the women, several dragons, and two campfires.
I land in the courtyard, startling three women who are busy roasting strips of pork on pointed sticks over the fire. On a mat of woven grass, they have set out a bowl of berries, another bowl of wild grains, and a pot of milk. One of the dragons must have flown his woman over to the herds on the south side of Ouroskelle, to fetch the milk. The sight disturbs me because it seems to corroborate what the Princess said—that the other males are caring for their prisoners better than I am.
“It’s the prince,” whispers one of the women loudly to the other two. All three of them bow to me, a human sign of respect. I can’t deny that their deference feels good after being treated with such disdain by the Princess. I’m becoming more sensitive to the charms of human females, and these three are all pleasing to the eye in different ways.
“Are you well?” I ask them gruffly.
“Well enough,” says a woman with scarlet hair. She’s the one who recognized me, and unless I’m mistaken, she’s the one Varex chose. He must have brought her down here to be with the rest of her kind.
Perhaps I should do the same with the Princess. Without me around, she would have to find someone else to annoy. She has vowed that I won’t taste her again, so perhaps it’s best for both of us that we exist separately. If I keep living with her alone, I’m not sure I can resist tasting her. Last night, when I was licking her, I experienced the most thrilling sensations in my body, especially centered in my genital area. My cock even extruded from its slit, there in the dark—something it has never done unless I intended to piss. This time the feeling was altogether different—a hard, hot, swollen, delicious ache, a need beyond words. I crave that feeling, and I crave the taste of the wetness I found between the Princess’s legs.
But I must think of her well-being. Much as I might hate her, we will have to exist in the same clan for the rest of our lives, so I should try to make peace. Her mood might improve if she doesn’t have me around as a constant reminder of what she has lost. As she told me so boldly yesterday, all of this is my fault. The least I can do is provide her with a more comfortable living arrangement than my nest.
I enter the cavern where the women are staying. They have lined the walls with grass pallets, one for each woman. Someone is clearly in charge here. Varex’s girl, perhaps?
At the back of the cavern is a stream, one of many springs within these mountains. Its waters form a clear pool in the gloom. As I prowl forward, someone screams and several naked women scramble to cover themselves. Apparently I interrupted their bathing hour.
I whirl around and bound out of the cavern. The red-haired woman by the fire looks up at me, a smirk on her sharp, pale face.
“You didn’t warn me,” I growl at her.
“Who am I to tell a prince where he can and cannot go?” she retorts.
“You belong to Varex, do you not?”
