Page 12 of Lady Dragon
If Kirek was all untrained violence, Branon still knew the language she was speaking. He batted her blow aside, whether through urgent reflex or perfect skill, and drove the point ofhis own sword at her—which, unlike Kirek’s weapon, was brutally sharp, the edge gleaming in the sunlight. Most would have dodged or fallen back, but Kirek simply tipped her head to the side, the blade whistling by her cheek as she let it pass. And then she thrust her own sword forward in another attack, almost ignoring his entirely. He dodged just as she had, if with less economy of movement, stepping wide and giving Kirek the opening to twist her wrist and bring her hilt around, slamming Branon in the shoulder with her pommel and sending him staggering. Still without bothering to defend, she lashed out once more, moving with a fluidity and power that was less a fight and more a flight on invisible wings. Her heart pounded not out of exertion but exultation, her phantom jaws lusting to feel his skin give under her fangs, to taste his lifeblood on her tongue. Her eyes met his, and she saw his understanding reflected back at her—his fear.
He was right to fear her.
He tried to trap her sword, to dodge and nick her, but she gave him no respite. Blow after blow, she drove Branon across the courtyard, the only sound the exuberant hiss of her breath and the painful clamor of weapon on weapon. Such an unguarded onslaught gave the prince opening to slip his own blade through to her in a more direct way, and she nearly welcomed it.
If she felt the bite of his sword, maybe she would bite back.
But Branon never seized the opportunity, only retreated, and eventually, when she knocked his blade wide, she raised her leg and slammed her boot down upon it, tearing the hilt from his grip. Her own sword halted mid-swing only a hair’s breadth from taking off his head.
“Youlose,” she hissed in his face.
“I might argue you’re disqualified,” Branon muttered throughhis teeth, sweat shining on his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving, “because you didn’t wait for the start of the match.”
“And I might argue your blade is sharp,” the dragon girl breathed in return.
That drew him up short. He watched her warily, ignoring the edge at his neck, his eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger—and maybe even alarm—but he didn’t say a thing before Kirek turned her back on him with no little satisfaction.
She tossed her sword aside in the dirt and strolled to the front of the stands, where Samansa was on her feet, staring down at her with wide eyes, gripping the railing with clenched hands. The dragon girl didn’t like feeling so low to the ground, and besides, she could continue to make it easier on the princess by getting closer. So she vaulted back up onto the wooden platform as smoothly as a jump and a swing of her legs.
As she landed in front of Samansa, the princess took a startled step back—ever so flinching. Though perhaps Kirekhadjust demonstrated what a dragon could still do, even in this limited form.
“Have I earned your favor now?” Kirek asked with a smirk.
“I…,” Samansa said, sounding breathless. “I suppose you have.”
When she took a hesitant step toward Kirek, the dragon girl realized she had no idea what receiving the princess’s favor would entail. So she froze, waiting, as Samansa reached forward with a silk kerchief patterned in flowers, took Kirek’s arm, and tied it around the top.
“The outward sign of my favor,” the princess murmured. “And here’s the proof.”
And then she leaned forward and kissed Kirek’s cheek,needing to tilt her head upward to reach, exposing her own throat to Kirek’s teeth—though the dragon girl was hardly thinking about a return strike.
Kirek had never been kissed before. Samansa’s lips were soft, nothing of a threat, and yet they sent a thrilling sensation from their point of contact down to the dragon girl’s toes. Kirek nearly staggered back like she hadn’t against any of Branon’s blows, but she forced her boots to stay planted.
“There you have it,” Samansa said, pulling away. Her hands lingered for a moment on Kirek’s arm. “You can tell me how much it’s worth.” She smiled, almost sadly. “Perhaps not much at all.”
If Kirek could have spoken, she didn’t know what she would have said. As it was, her voice was choked in her throat. So she spun away from the princess and stalked off, wondering what under the skies had overcome her.
Kirek retired early to her quarters with the excuse that she was tired—proving that the humans were entirely gullible, as she wasn’t remotely weary. She felt giddy from what she had uncovered with Branon, and as sharp as the steel that had nearly cut her. Which she needed to be before her mother,theMother, with whom she was about to speak.
And yet, her mind kept drifting back to the strange sensation that had gripped her when Samansa had kissed her. Kirek scrubbed at her cheek now, as if to dash the feeling away. She blamed this unpredictable human body, and brought her mind firmly back to the task at hand.
She bolted her door and faced her chamber at the top of thetallest tower in the keep—the one place here where she didn’t feel entirely claustrophobic. The walls of the yawning circular room stretched high overhead, lined in stained glass windows and tapestries depicting dragons in flight, ringed in bright torches, and, most importantly, cut with a giant double door that opened onto a harrowing drop and the endless night sky outside. But for all that she wanted to, she didn’t crank the lever to throw them open and free herself from these walls and this body. Instead, she stalked to the farthest point of the room to a small, discreet alcove, barely noticeable amid the grand proportions of the rest of the place.
For all their careful attention to the details a dragon might appreciate, humans had built into this place something they perhaps did not intend. Something that had been placed by the will of a dragon long ago and then forgotten—at least by the humans. Every dragon who’d come here with the Heartstone since had known of its existence.
A crystal sat in the alcove like an unmoving silver flame. A pretty decoration hidden among so many others—at least, that’s what it appeared at a glance.
But it was far more.
Kirek knew what it was, if not thehowit had come into being, just like the Heartstone at her breast. This was a Songstone. One of only two she was aware of, while there was only one Heartstone.
The other matching Songstone was in High Nest, in the Queen Mother’s lair.
She cupped her hands around the crystal, leaning in to blow upon it like she would a true flame. Rather, as she would whilestuck in this human body. As a dragon, she would shoot the flame from her mouth.
But this wasn’t a true flame, and while it was a stone, it was also something else. A portal, in a sense—if only for voices.
Dragons—whennottrapped in this debased form—didn’t speak like humans. They spoke without sound, but with silent voices clearer and more ringing than anyone would find here. Only dragons could comprehend dragon-speech, but thankfully the Heartstone still graced Kirek with the ability to understand. She could only respond in her wretched human voice, but fortunately dragons had learned to parse the jumbled sounds of human speech long ago, during the War of Fire.
