by Leslie Chase
"You will not threaten Gillian Willis," Zardan snarled as he stepped into the room. Gillian spun around to look at him, shocked at his sudden arrival. Ignoring her, he strode towards the screen, eyes blazing with a rage that made her suddenly glad that she wasn't the one who'd angered him. He moved with a grace and careful purpose that only made him look more dangerous as he advanced on her desk.
Danforth's eyes widened and his face paled as Zardan came into view. Even across the distance between them, Zardan clearly intimidated the banker, but he wasn't willing to back down so easily.
"I don't know who you are or what interest you think you have here," Danforth said, almost managing to hide the fear in his voice. "It doesn't matter though. My business is with Ms. Willis and her family, not with you. Please leave the conversation."
"If your business is with her, it's with me too," Zardan growled. Gillian backed away, getting out from between the dragon shifter and the screen. Her heart raced at the sight of him stepping in to protect her, and she felt short of breath. Zardan's presence made it hard to think.
She started to say something, anything, but the two men weren't paying any attention to her. Both were now leaning in to glower at each other, though Gillian was sure that Danforth wouldn't have been so aggressive if he'd been in Zardan's physical presence. Over the screen, though, he was able to put on a brave face.
"The land that the ice farm is built on will belong to the bank when the loan comes due," the banker snarled, voice low and threatening. "Anyone who's there when we arrive to take possession will be trespassing and treated as such. Human, dragon, it doesn't matter to me."
Only because you won't be there in person, Gillian wanted to say. But before she could speak Zardan answered, and his words shocked her into silence.
"This land is mine by ancient right," he told Danforth, his voice a dangerous growl. "I am the scion of the House of Herendar, heir to the estate that now lies beneath the ice. Whatever claim you might have under human law doesn't matter — my claim is over a thousand years old. Come here and I will judge you trespassers, and deal with you as dragons do anyone who enters a lair uninvited."
Danforth blinked, paling further as the threat sank in. He opened his mouth as though to reply, then shut it again. For a long second, the two men glared at each other. Gillian glared too, in as much shock as Danforth. That couldn't be right, could it? This land belonged to her father.
But the dragons were here a thousand years ago, she reminded herself. Maybe it is true. Maybe Zardan's family did own this place then. What does that even mean?
The Dragon Empire claimed all of Mars, but they were happy enough to let human settlements stand. Gillian had never heard of a situation like this, though, and had no idea how the competing claims might be resolved.
It was a small comfort that Danforth didn't, either. His mouth moved as though he was trying to speak but no words came out. Narrowing his eyes, he took a deep breath.
"That's irrelevant," he said finally. "The land is ours, now, and the courts of Olympus Colony will rule in our favor. Get off it or we'll kick you off. And my people won't be gentle."
"I am Dragon Lord and a warrior of the Immortal Dragon Guard," Zardan said, wings flexing slightly. "I have flown the void between the stars and crushed the armies of the Empire's enemies. I have held the lives of entire planets in my talons, and my kin have ruled solar systems. Your human minions don't frighten me, and if they value their lives they will not attempt to fight me over this."
"We'll see about that," Danforth hissed, and with a swipe of his hand he cut the contact.
As soon as the screen blanked out, Zardan slumped forward, his arms and legs giving out. It was as though he'd only been held up by sheer willpower, and without an enemy to face down that had left him.
Gillian was at his side in an instant, trying to support him, but it was futile. He weighed far too much for her and his knees hit the floor with a crash that shook the room. Standing over him, Gillian felt a flood of anger run through her veins as she looked down at him.
"You idiot," she snapped, letting go of him to put her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doing here? You should be resting in bed."
"I heard you arguing with someone," he said, struggling to keep himself upright without her support. "You sounded upset."
"Upset?" Gillian tried to calm down, but it wasn't easy. There were so many emotions competing for space in her head right now. "You think I was upset then? And you thought you were helping?"
A wounded look crossed his face almost too fast for her to see before he managed to cover it with an emotionless expression. Gillian took a deep breath and continued.
"You threatened them, you idiot. They're a bank, they've got the law on their side, and now they've got every excuse to come in here and arrest us or force us out. If you hadn't threatened them maybe we could have negotiated. Maybe Dad would have turned up with the money we owe them. Maybe something would have turned up to make it right. But now, now they'll be looking for any excuse to start trouble."
"They were already looking for trouble," Zardan said, wincing as he tried to pull himself up. "You heard him, that wasn't the attitude of a man looking for money. I stayed out of it until he threatened you, anyway. That is something I won't allow anyone to do."
The pure, angry sincerity in that statement gave her pause. She couldn't doubt that he meant it, especially when he'd forced himself from his sickbed to face down Danforth. If only he hadn't done it so forcefully. God dammit, what am I supposed to do now?
It was hard to keep her anger up when she was facing him like this. Sighing, she threw up her hands.
"Okay, fine, you were trying to help. That doesn't make this any less stupid," she told him, pulling some cushions from the sofa and trying to make him more comfortable. There was no way that she was going to move him until he'd recovered some strength. "Now what the hell did you mean, this is your land?"
8
Zardan
Gillian's touch made everything better. Her gentle hands guided him down onto the sofa and as she tried to make him comfortable, Zardan let his eyes close. He needed to think about how to answer her question, and right now that wasn't easy. Gillian didn't need to know just how far he'd pushed himself there, nor how much pain he was actually in. Getting up from his bed had hurt, and he could barely feel his wings now.
"I meant just what I said," he told her, deciding on the simple truth. He focused on keeping his breathing even and his voice steady. "You are on my family's land. My land now, since I must assume I am the last survivor of my family."
Saying that aloud stung worse than the wound in his side did, and he had to resist the urge to lash out, to break something. Everyone he'd known was dead, every plan he'd had for the future was now buried in the distant past. All of it was gone, long gone, in the dust and ice.
The cold grip of the centuries that had swallowed his family closed around him, and he stared towards the wall of the human habitation he sat in. I'm sorry, he thought. Mother, father, I've failed you both.
Gillian's finger poked into his arm, a warm touch that jarred him out of his introspection, and he snapped around to look at her again. She'd said something while he was lost in the past, but he had no idea what it was, and he could see the annoyed look in her eyes. His lip twitched with dark humor — while he'd worried about how he failed his family, he'd also managed to fail her. Great.
"I said, this is my family's land now," she repeated herself. "You can't just come back after a thousand years and say it's yours again. It was empty when we got here."
"If it's yours now, it's the bank's in a week," he snapped, regretting his tone instantly. But the pain made it hard to control his temper. "I don't know much about human law, but I don't think that you're in a position to win that argument, are you? If I own the land, on the other hand, then I can help you."
"Oh, and you think you can beat the bank in court?" Gillian put her hands on her hips and glowered do
wn at him.
"I think I have a better chance than you do," Zardan said. Gillian was stubborn and unwilling to give in, and that was going to be a problem. But even though right now she was standing in his way, Zardan had to admire the way she would stand up to anyone and everyone. This wasn't the time for that, though. Not if she wanted to win this fight with the bank and keep her family's ice farm.
"You can't fight everyone and win, Gillian," he tried again. "Let me help you. If they try to take the land from me the fight will be in the Imperial Court, not wherever you humans settle legal disputes."
His knowledge of human laws and how they were enforced was vague at best. A thousand years ago, the humans he'd dealt with had appealed to kings and lords for their rulings, but that had clearly changed. He wasn't yet sure whether it had changed for the better or not, though he was confident that Gillian wouldn't prevail. She has to see sense, to let me help. She can't be stubborn enough to refuse... can she?
Gillian threw herself down on a seat opposite the sofa and the two of them glared at each other in silence. Eventually, reluctantly, she nodded.
"I'm not agreeing with your claim," she said, running a hand through her damp hair and leaving it a distractingly appealing tangle.
"I know that."
"This is my family's farm, we built it up and made it worth something. It's ours."
"Agreed."
"But if you're able to keep the bank off my back while I sort this out, then I guess I won't argue with you about it. Not until I've sorted out this mess and know what's going on."
He sighed with relief. At least I'll get to do one thing right while I'm here.
"Thank you," he said, feeling a shadow of a smile touch his lips. It was infuriating to have to push so hard to be allowed to help, but it was funny too. At least a little bit.
"I will need to recover faster if I'm going to be ready when they arrive," he continued. The pain and exhaustion were fading, but he could feel how weak he was. The injuries were deep in his bones, and he didn't know how much healing he could expect in a week. If the bank even waited that long before arriving to kick the Willis's out. Zardan didn't trust that Danforth character as far he could throw him, and right now that wasn't very far at all.
Gillian looked him over cautiously, and his smile broadened. The way her eyes widened as she looked at him made him feel better straight away, though he knew that was an illusion. He'd be willing to throw himself into a fight for her, but that didn't mean he'd be able to win.
"Let's get you back to bed, then," Gillian said, and her cheeks flushed as she heard what she'd said. She coughed, recovering her poise a little. "I mean, yes. You'll need to rest."
"And eat," he said. "Your human portions are too small."
"I've been giving you twice as much food as anyone else!"
"Half as much as I need," he said, grinning at the expression on her face. It was a mix of awe and horror at his appetite. "My body will need a lot of fuel if I'm going to recover. Aside from the fact that your cooking is delicious."
That last was true, but he said it mostly to see Gillian's blush deepen. She caught his amused look and glared helplessly before offering him her hand. "Fine. Okay. I'll feed you up, you heal, and then we deal with the bank. Together."
"Together." Zardan took her small hand in his, squeezing gently as they shook on the deal.
The stumble back to the guest room was undignified, and Zardan was glad he'd decided to make his way back alone. He could almost hear his mother scolding him for that — 'What if you fall? What if you hurt yourself?' — but no consequence he could think of would hurt as much as being seen struggling by Gillian.
It shouldn't matter, he told himself as he collapsed back onto the bed, the flimsy human construction creaking under his weight. It doesn't matter, not really. I won't be here long, and it makes no difference what she thinks of me.
But telling himself that changed nothing about his feelings. He would protect Gillian and her family, and he would not show weakness in front of her.
Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered why he was bothering to hide it. Boasting of his strength came easily in front of Gillian, and he knew that he would be a match for any humans who challenged him. Surviving might not be easy, but victory would be assured.
What worried him wasn't the humans, though. The bank might send thugs to help with the eviction process, but they wouldn't be any threat to a dragon shifter. Even if they thought they could win a fight against him, would they risk drawing the wrath of the Emperor? It seemed unlikely they'd be paid enough for that.
But there were the other dragons to worry about. The ones who'd threatened Gillian when he first saw her. Were they simply hunting humans out on the ice? It wasn't impossible, several dragons had traveled to Earth to fight and hunt humans back before they'd gone into hibernation. Some of the revived Dragon Guard might be bringing back that tradition, despite the Emperor's alliance with the humans. This was far enough away from the capital that Imperial law was weak anyway.
Zardan's worry was that there was more to it than that. No one had reported ice farmers going missing, after all. Could he have been lucky enough to intervene in their first attack? That seemed unlikely. Karaos and his friends were more likely to have some specific scheme in mind, but he couldn't work out what it might be.
I can't even be sure that it was Karaos that attacked, he reminded himself, frustrated at his lack of information. There could be another group of dragons out here, hunting.
He shook his head. That simply wasn't plausible, not really. He'd seen two dragons in Fuller Station, Karaos and his companion. Two dragons had followed him north. Given the small number of dragon shifters on Mars, they had to be the same ones. Didn't they?
The third attacker had already been in the area, though. Zardan didn't know what to make of that. What was there out here in the desolate, icy waste that could draw in a trio of dragons?
Punching the metal wall beside his bed hard enough to leave a dent, Zardan tried to stop thinking about that. It wouldn't help anyway, and he didn't have any answers. It was more important to rest and keep his strength up so that he'd be able to meet whatever challenge came his way.
That was easier said than done, though. The rooms were too small, and he was too used to being able to stretch out. Not to mention the fact that he'd never had to rest like this to recover from an injury before. The medical technology common in the Empire would have fixed him up in no time at all. Unfortunately, there wasn't any within a thousand miles and he was in no condition to go to it even if there was.
On the second day of Zardan's enforced rest, Harry noticed the dent in the wall. The human boy had kept delivering Zardan's meals to him — though now Gillian was cooking them, and the results were a good deal more pleasant to eat. It seemed that Gillian still wanted to keep out of his way.
That was frustrating, but it made things easier in some ways too. If she'd spent time with him, Zardan knew his ability to focus would vanish. Even knowing she was nearby was a distraction that he could barely cope with.
Harry looked at the damaged wall and, very cautiously, pressed his fist into the dent. It looked almost as though he expected the metal to be hot, and if would have been amusing if it hadn't been so embarrassing.
"I'm sorry about that," Zardan said awkwardly. Losing control like that was shameful, but the human didn't seem to mind.
"Wow, you're strong," he said, awestruck. "I doubt any human could leave a mark on that."
Zardan shrugged, unsure how to respond to that.
"I shouldn't take out my frustration on your home," he said eventually. "I'm a guest here, and that was unworthy of me. It's just so frustrating being stuck in this tiny space."
Harry's eyes lit up at that. "Oh, I can help with that," he said, putting down the tray piled high with Zardan's midday meal. "You eat up and I'll be back in a moment, okay?"
Before Zardan could say anything, the boy was gone, running off towards the vehic
le bay. Zardan shook his head at the youngling's enthusiastic energy. I remember being that young. Barely.
'A moment' turned out to mean several hours, but then Harry returned along with Gillian. He had a huge grin spread across his face and she carried a strange contraption in her arms.
"Ta-da!" he said, gesturing at the armful of gear. Zardan looked at it dubiously. It consisted of a clear glass facemask and a couple of small pressure tanks., connected by straps.
"Harry said that you're feeling cooped up," Gillian said. "I guess that makes sense. So we made you this out of some spare parts we had lying around. It'll let you breathe outside — if you can cope with the cold? Harry tells me that you can, but I'm not so sure."
Zardan felt a grin spread over his face as he lifted the mask and turned it over. There was an airtight seal around the edges, and when he tried it on it seemed to fit well enough. It might work.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you both. These tiny rooms are torture for me, I need to be out under the sky."
"Alright then, big guy, want to try it out?" Gillian looked at him dubiously. "If we help you outside, we'll be there to drag you back in if something goes wrong."
He could feel the weight of her doubts and shook his head. Humans were so fragile. The fires that burned in the heart of a dragon shifter would protect him from the cold, and the low pressure wouldn't bother him either. It was only the need for air that kept him trapped inside.
And the humans had answered that problem for him. If this contraption worked, anyway, which remained to be seen.
He heaved himself up out of the bed, Gillian helping lift him. Harry tried to assist as well, but despite his efforts he was too small to add more than enthusiastic encouragement. Nonetheless he held onto Zardan's arm as though supporting him as the trio made their way to the airlock.
