I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2)

by Marc Secchia

  His muzzle quivered as he considered her words. Did it? Judging by her sharp inhale, the insight appeared to strike her with unexpected force.

  Then, the Princes burst into their parents’ chamber like a hurricane.

  Quietly, he padded away to take King Azerim to the ground floor infirmary. He popped Chanize into her rolling chair while the servants came with ladders to unstrap the King from his back. Meantime, King Varazim made an impromptu speech from his balcony thanking everyone for their concern and assuring them that order was indeed restored to the island kingdom.

  He prodded the Sankir in the ribs. “Where will you take her?”

  “There might be a private apartment available in the Palace servants’ quarters, near mine,” he said. “It’s located on the ground floor. I’ll need to prod a few people to install ramps where needed, as the floor is not entirely even. We’ll work out the details.”

  Chanize put in, “I’m not sure what my future holds, as yet.”

  Clasped hands. Unconscious closeness. Smiles. Here came this ridiculous Human behaviour again, the pretence that something which most definitely existed, could not even be mentioned. Yet it was delicate, a bud that should not be disturbed.

  Not even by a dictatorial paw.

  Clearing his throat, he waggled a talon beneath her nose. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, young lady. After all, I do not indulge in the kidnapping of exceptional damsels for no good reason.”

  “I am hardly a damsel in distress,” Azania put in bluntly.

  “Watch this eye roll I’m about to make,” he teased. “Can’t you even pretend? Just for one minute?”

  “You’re already insufferable.”

  “Very good.”

  As the Sankir wheeled Chanize away to help her settle in, the Princess murmured, “Oh, would you look at how he’s taken command of her wheelchair? How gallant.”

  Every bit as dryly, he said, “Very honourable of our Sankir – gnarr-harr-harr.”

  Mwaa-haa-harr, she agreed, making several of the nearby servants look at her very strangely indeed.

  Together, they walked King Azerim over to the royal infirmary. Dragon made himself a nuisance by insisting that the wide windows be kept open, the better for him to lurk near the royal personage and wreak, according to the doctors, despicable draconic misdeeds about the place.

  Use his magic, in other words.

  No, he was no Inzashu-N’shula. Compared to her rapier skills, he was a large club wielded by a clumsy paw. However, from the window he could reach over and touch Azerim and strengthen him; one of the nurses shortly admitted that after he did that, the young King did breathe easier and his temperature came down a few notches.

  Azania busied herself at a desk in the corner – meant to be a nurses’ station, he understood – writing up their most recent adventures, and also making a list of Dragon-related topics she needed to discuss with the King. Taking her Roving Ambassadorial job very seriously indeed. Dragon propped his muzzle on the windowsill and amused himself by suggesting alternative wordings in a few places. Well, every few sentences. Just to keep the quill-wielding scamp honest.

  After an hour, she stretched and came over to chat with him, leaning on the windowsill facing the world outside the window, where Ignis was doing his best to set the sky afire. Gorgeous early evening. The vibrant reds and bonfire oranges made his paws itch to be painting.

  “Do you think the Palace would be willing to source me canvas, an easel and painting equipment?” he asked. “I assume we’ll be marooned here for a few days at least, getting the King back on his feet.”

  “Aria didn’t say how long she’d be delayed?”

  The King’s hand twitched on the bedlinens. One advantage of having widely separated eyes with a broad field of vision, like most predators enjoyed, was that he could appreciate the suns setting to one side whilst keeping a check on Azerim on the other. The young King lay propped up on wide linen cushions in a comfortable wooden bed. His wounded leg had been fixed by a sling raised by a pulley on the ceiling. Terribly uncomfortable position, Dragon felt. He wore no shirt, for several other wounds upon his chest, back and shoulders had required attention. The medical staff had openly wondered how strongly he had resisted his kidnappers, for many of the wounds betrayed perhaps several beatings he must have suffered; a large bruise was purpling up a treat on the left side of his face, spreading from the point of his jaw right up to his ear.

  He said, “No, but she implied it’ll be several days at least. It’s challenging to position the Dragonesses for something new when the factions are so divided.”

  Moodily, she added, “Azerim had my picture up in his chambers. His brothers took great pleasure in telling me.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  “I think they desperately want … well, instant romance, to be perfectly honest.” Over on the bed, a pair of clear green eyes cracked open. In Azerim’s deeply tanned face, the colour was a startling flash of light, like the green-blue of shallow ocean waters dappling over white sands. “The King and Queen are already treating me like the daughter they never had, and it’s –”

  She bit her lip.

  “Hard? I can only imagine,” he said gently.

  “I never had anything like this with my parents. I never knew my mother, really, and father – well, you know how beautifully that went.” The Princess shook her curls, drawing the young King’s attention. “Do you think he’ll even remember a girl he once met? It’s been five years. I was twelve, then, and … things change. People change, Dragon. Just look at us.”

  As she spoke, the royal eyes lit upon the Princess with yearning so plain, it speared a sharp pang in his Dragon hearts. Disbelief. Craving. Appreciation so intense, he would have set the doctors scrambling to treat a fever had they been present. Dragon tried to see it from his perspective. A slender, dark Princess leaned over the windowsill, in a posture that presented her tiny haunches and woefully slender legs most advantageously for him to scrutinise. Sable curls tumbled down her back. She bore a sword in the King’s very presence – no-one had yet dared to inform her that this simply was not done. The low, liquid tones of her desert accent rose and fell melodiously in earnest, unselfconscious conversation with a perfectly enormous white Dragon filling his window!

  Poor fellow. Struggling to breathe over there, was he?

  Gnarr-harr-harr. He knew that feeling. The flicker of Aria’s wings could stop up his throat in an instant. Really, that much beauty packed into one Dragoness was extremely hazardous to the health.

  She whispered, “I’m just not sure I’m ready for this, Dragon. It’s all a bit … overwhelming, and … scary. Am I being silly? I mean, what if after all this, he doesn’t see me for who I am, and there’s the complication of you … and all the Dragonesses, and war on the horizon …”

  “Shh. Now, that is silly, Princess. These fears are wholly unfounded.”

  Azerim’s reaction said it all.

  Behind her back, Dragon winked at the King and made a ‘come on’ crooking gesture with his fore talon. Aye. She had no idea how hard he swallowed just then.

  “Dragon, how do you know?”

  “Oh, call it a mysterious Dragon power.”

  Her breath hitched. In that second, she realised he was playing the tease; she must have sensed why, but her body lacked the capability to respond to her volition.

  “Azania,” the King rasped. “Princess Azania – wow!”

  Turning with a low gasp, she bowed – to Dragon’s eye, appearing more than a little flustered. “Your Majesty …”

  “Wow, look at you,” he repeated.

  He wanted to wave a paw to clear the atmosphere. Funny how there were ways other than breathing fire to make a room very hot indeed. Sweltering!

  “So it was you in the tower, Azania?”

  She smiled shyly, lowering her eyelashes yet gazing hungrily at him beneath. “Aye …”

  “Then, I owe you my life.”

  “If someone
hadn’t stuck out his big boot to stop Gazaram’s blade, I wouldn’t be here to talk about it,” she said, in a rush. “How are you, Your Majesty? Are you in pain?”

  “Please, call me Azerim. May I be so bold as to greet my saviour and old friend with a hug?”

  Chapter 35: Old Friends

  WHEN AZANIA HESITATED, THE King did the same. Then, he smiled, “We’re rather huggy around the Vaylarn Archipelago. Sorry. This place should have come slapped with a few cultural warnings, Princess – but I am the King. Am I allowed one very small demand?”

  “A demand, o King? Your will is my command.”

  His pulse leaped like a scared rabbit, but he managed to say steadily enough, “Then, approach the royal bedside, o Princess, that I might thank you properly.”

  When she stepped over as if in a dream, he placed an arm about her shoulders, and pressed his lips very decorously to her cheek. Over her shoulder, as they embraced, his lips formed another ‘wow!’ Aye, her fears were that badly unfounded. This young man was besotted, or he was a luminous purple shrimp and no Dragon.

  “Sit with me.”

  Azania’s eyebrow arched. “That’s two demands, my King.”

  Dragon rumbled, “She’s always like this, I’m afraid. I’ve tried to beat it out of her, but some Princesses just won’t fit the mould.”

  “So I see,” he agreed, sounding discomfited but somehow emboldened at the same time. “Princess Azania, would you please sit with me? I’m afraid I present myself in a rather tatty and bedridden state, but I would like – heavens’ sakes, what’s going on in my kingdom? What are you doing here on the Vaylarn Archipelago? With a Sea Dragon of stupendous size, with whom you seem very well acquainted? And how did I leap from the delights of Lord Gazaram’s finest accommodation back to the Palace? Was I flying Dragonback, or was that just another dream?”

  Patently, he did not want it to be any kind of dream.

  Nor could he stop smiling.

  Pulling up a stool at his bedside, Azania said sweetly, “You’ll be glad to be lying down for this, Azerim. In short, we crossed the ocean to recruit a Dragon army, but discovered your kingdom was in trouble, and so lent a hand and a paw of aid. This is Dragon. He is called Dragon – long, involved story – and we are acquainted as Dragon and Dragon Rider.”

  “I – what? What? Hold your Sea Dragons!” he spluttered.

  “If you insist,” Dragon put in.

  Azerim queried, “You’re a Dragon Rider? When did that happen?”

  “After he captured me from the King Tyloric’s tower – that’s in the Kingdom of Vanrace. Technically, I am still his captive Princess, but we’re sort of ignoring that inconvenient detail at present. Aye, we transported you by Dragon from Gazaram’s place to here. You really were flying.”

  “As in, you ride on a Dragon?”

  “Into battle, all around Solixambria and across oceans,” she explained. “You did, too.”

  “Wow!”

  Azerim’s new favourite word.

  He scratched his modest chin-scruff, and said, “Excuse my ignorance, but is Dragon-Riding a new thing? I had thought Tamarine Dragons far too aloof to even consider such an arrangement.”

  “Brand new, but very old,” Dragon replied.

  “I’m remarkably persuasive,” said the rascally Princess, batting her eyelashes.

  Pop went his concentration.

  “One moment,” said Azerim, and pinched his arm firmly. “Aye, most probably awake. So, we have a Dragon-Riding Princess rescuing the kingdom from rebellious Lords, all of my brothers –”

  “Returned safely,” Azania said.

  “Mother and Father?”

  “Resting upstairs in their chamber, guarded by warrior Dragonesses.”

  “By the Isles!” King Azerim’s green eyes twinkled. “Tell me, what happened to that shy twelve year-old I remember being so smitten by, I could barely speak a word in her presence? She grew up – I see that, although, not so much ‘up’ as –” he chuckled as she waved her finger warningly “– as even more beautiful than ever. I do feel as if I’m living in a land of dreams and I never, ever want to wake up.”

  Her black eyes twinkled at him.

  “Ever,” he insisted.

  The Princess said, “Maybe you are dreaming, but I assure you, it’s all totally Dragon’s fault.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He smirked at Azania. “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted, shall I? Or would it be politic if I told your family that you’re awake, first? Because once you ask Azania for her story, you’re liable to be stuck here for a good many hours. Captive audience.”

  “Captive King, don’t you mean?” she chirped, with a bright smile that audibly snaffled all the wind out of his sails.

  Azerim said, “Oof.”

  Azania added, “Besides, wouldn’t you say that, ‘The mighty Dragon-Riding Princess liberated the King from abject captivity in the most nefarious tower in all the land,’ has a nice ring to it?”

  “Oh, demoted to the sidekick in this plot line, am I?” Dragon growled.

  “Whatever suits.”

  Azerim said, “If I am asked for honesty, I’d have to say, ‘Aye and nay.’ Nay because that place was hateful, but aye because you came to rescue me.”

  Their glances danced shyly for a moment.

  Time to work on some actual diplomacy, for a change. How to withdraw?

  “Dragon, please do inform my family that I’m awake, if you’d be so kind, or we’ll never hear the end of it. I’m ravenous as well. Jail rations do not agree with this man’s appetite. Azania – wow!” He flushed. “I’m saying that a lot, aren’t I?”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  “Just admit it’s her trousers,” Dragon put in, helpful as always.

  “A gentleman would not look,” he said gallantly. “However, I shall evermore blame a drug-induced delirium for my severe failings.”

  Dragon, I’m going to spread your guts on toast, she informed him pleasantly.

  Oh, don’t stop. This is far too much fun.

  Rising from the stool, she walked over to the window, pirouetted, and said, “You like, Azerim? Give me a moment, I’ll just kick this rude Dragon out.”

  His eyes appear to be pinned to your hips, Highness.

  Plus, his jaw was in distinct danger of dislocation. Nice one, Princess!

  She pushed the window shut on his muzzle, grinned at him through the glass, and said, My heart’s wriggling with happiness. Dragon, you’re the best. Thank you!

  You’re going to make such beautiful children together –

  Dragon! You’re impossible!

  Maybe he was, but spreading love and happiness was also infectious. He wandered off to inflict wonderful news on a few more people, raising screams of joy from the younger two brothers, undignified yelling from Princes number two and three, another near-faint from the Queen and loud demands from the older King for a wheelchair and his robe, this instant!

  Why was it that other peoples’ families were oftentimes easier than one’s own?

  Same for Azania. He must help her navigate this. Still, he knew that she would manage far more graciously than he.

  * * * *

  King Azerim slept the deep sleep of a young man exhausted by three days of chatting up the most beautiful woman in the seventeen realms. Dragon sympathised. Once the seventeen year-old Princess and the twenty-one year-old King managed to start to relax around one another, and the family left them alone for a change – Queen’s orders, wink, wink – there was a great deal to talk about.

  Yawn.

  Human romance. Might they even progress to holding hands soon?

  Charcoal sticks scraped upon a set of new sketches he was producing for the royal family. When he completed the King, Queen and their five sons, he planned to produce a much larger composite artwork framed in his mind; that of their reunion about Azerim’s sickbed, with tiny Azania perched right in the middle of the boisterous family. He had also sketched o
ut and was now beginning to colour an underwater reef scene – oh, and he had a picture of Wavewhisperer in progress, too. His art never seemed to stand still. Inspiration always overtook him in eager waves.

  With Princess Azania assisting at a meeting on Human-Dragon relations this afternoon, he had been left to his own devices. Time enough for the draconic viewpoint later. The King wanted to lay careful groundwork, especially considering what had just been done to his four northern Lords.

  People wanted assurances.

  He loved the solitude. Oh, alright. He also loved the fact that hundreds of people lined the Palace fence just to get a glimpse of the scaly white artist.

  Tomorrow, the two Kings planned to receive visitors at this very window – to open the grounds to the public in a celebration of his homecoming. Also, there might be an opportunity to show off the Black Rose of the Desert. There would be music and cultural dancing, and free food and drink.

  Blergh.

  Must plot his escape. All this being nice to everyone gave a Dragon a fearful itch.

  Azerim said, “Have I told you how deathly boring it is waiting for a few cuts to heal, Dragon?”

  He looked up from his work. The clear green eyes were open again. Someone had artfully trimmed the royal bush and turned his stubble into what looked like flames rising from the line of the King’s jaw. Azania would love that! Still no kissing yet, either. Apparently the relationship was too embryonic and nuanced for that kind of mischief, despite what he was beginning to learn was a very wide rebellious streak in the joker of the family, one Azerim.

  Not that the couple needed encouragement. He had never seen a pair of creatures more enraptured with each other. Quite sickening, actually. Mush central. Doe-eyed looks, sighs, endearments, the whole caboodle was leagues worse than the soppiest scroll he had ever read.

  Gnarr. Who was in a bad mood? More to the point, why?

  He eyeballed the King. The King eyeballed him.

  He purred, “Sire, the aerial view of Zunityne enraptured Princess Azania. It is truly spectacular, especially seen in this red-golden light caused by a partial eclipse of the suns. There’s a certain luminous quality to the air at this hour.”