by Lisa Daniels
“Anya. You need to stop making excuses for yourself. Just stop. You know as well as I do that you want him. And you also know that until you ask, you won't know.”
Yes. And that thought sent a shiver of fear inside Anya. “What if... what if,” she mumbled, “he rejects me? And I look like a fool for thinking... for thinking that I had a chance with him?”
“Then he rejects you and you look like a fool. But you still have a nice job. And you're not going back to that plantation of yours. You need to take risks, Anya. You won't get anywhere in life if you don't take risks.” Seon glanced over to the window, her eyes going distant for a moment.
You won't get anywhere in life if you don't take risks. Anya sensed the truth in those words. It applied to her former life only too well. No one took risks. And nothing happened. She took a risk instead. A huge one. And it made something happen. Unfortunately, it would have led to her demise. Until Kalgrin saved her.
If she admitted to Kalgrin she liked him, what principles might she break with herself? The principle of not doing what her mother expected with the drake? The principle of learning to strike out on her own?
A small, manic voice in the back of her mind said excuses, excuses. It's just like Seon said. You're making excuses and stalling.
But why? Why did she stall?
“You're afraid,” Seon said, eyes gentle. “It's something new to you, isn't it? Liking someone in this manner. Wanting them, but fearing rejection. Considering going for that half-life instead, where you'll always harbor those feelings of longing, but you won't ever admit them because you don't want to compromise what you have now.”
“I... yes.” No point in lying. Those words seemed to actively wrench the truth out of her. As if naming the emotions made them opaque and possible to touch. It created a wildness in her, a kind of panic that she struggled to contain.
“From my observations, Anya – I think he likes you as well. I think you should go for it.”
Anya took deep breaths, attempting to calm herself.
“Perhaps I will,” she said.
She didn't, though. Not for another few days. Seon had tried to help in her own way, but she didn't wield the tempest of emotions Anya felt inside. Plus, Anya knew so little about everything. Of love, of the world, and what made people smile.
Maybe I am just afraid of this. And I should stop. She just... she didn't want to lose the things she had gained. It terrified her. And that terror led to the instinct of staying put. Not moving. Hoping nothing bad came to pass.
In choosing that, her life never developed into what it might have been.
She did one more mission with Kalgrin. Another pleasant ride through the air. Another successful run at some far-off plantation where the lord had a rather nasty habit of cutting off workers’ fingers if they disobeyed any order.
Most of the women and men and children on that plantation had an average of three fingers missing. Apparently, few people disobeyed for the fourth. Or perhaps they had simply been killed, judged too unruly.
After the run, she made it back home after leaving Kalgrin. For a moment, she'd been tempted to ask to go into his house, but refused at the last moment.
At her place, in her tiny bedroom, she considered her reflection within the little mirror. Her grave face. The fears eating her up.
Her eyes hardened. Rummaging through her drawers, she scooped out a fresh blue top and knee-length blue skirt.
She grabbed the sponge and scrubbed herself thoroughly down until she smelled like strawberry perfume.
I'm going to do it. I'm going to go over to Kalgrin's house, knock on that door, and just walk in. And stop being such a coward.
Thinking the thoughts bolstered her resolve, and she preened in the mirror, her head held high. Besides, if she didn't do something about the blasted drake soon, her thoughts might be so saturated with his image that she'd end up mad. Her brown hair was frazzled from the brush, so she spent longer straightening out the frantic strands.
With her comfy black shoes on, with their little brass buckles, she nodded to herself. Resolved. Determined.
Walking to Kalgrin's house took a minute.
Blasts. What if he slumbered? The moon rose about a quarter way in the sky. Lights were turned on in the houses, though no light shone from Kalgrin's home. She knocked on the door, her heart palpitating in a mix of fright and anticipation.
Kalgrin opened the door and blinked when he saw Anya standing there with a face like a storm. “Anya? Is something wrong?”
“Iwanttospeaktoyou.” Drat. She’d said that too fast, and enunciated it when Kalgrin frowned in confusion.
“Oh. Right. Sure, you can speak to me, anytime. You know that. Come in.” He wrinkled his nose when Anya passed, taking a deep sniff. “Hmm. You smell nice. And fresh.”
“I try,” Anya replied. No. Don't get distracted. Her emotions were all over the place. Her pulse lurched in her throat, making it hard to focus, to get what she intended. Curses, she didn't want to be a blathering fool in front of him. “It's something that's been on my mind for a while. And I feel like I need to get it off my chest before I explode.”
Kalgrin’s nose twitched as he scented her perfume, and observed her elaborately brushed hair and popping breasts under her shirt. Yes. Perhaps she had been a little overkill with the attire. She might as well have turned up at his door naked. How to begin? Her heart turned craven. “It was just a question I've been thinking of, since, you know. We have so many humans suffering over the world. Are there many places where humans actually live good lives? Or just a few?”
Kalgrin shook his head, though his eyes observed her in faint hunger. Sometimes they dipped in the gap between her breasts. He didn’t look half bad, either, opting for a ruffled blouse, a black waistcoat, and pinstriped pants. He chose to walk around in black socks, though, preferring to leave his shoes at the door. Anya did the same, though she wore no socks under her shoes.
“I’m afraid it’s not common. We send the humans to the north, or to towns run by drakes, but there are more... unsafe places than there are safe. Wyrms are the ruling factions in most countries. And there is a reason for it. A reason I've not fully explained to you. Just hinted at.”
A reason for the wyrms being in power? What more reason than the fact that they were stronger than humans? “Okay.” She waited for his explanation.
He did seem a little puzzled, though. Suspecting she intended to say something else, before she diverted her thoughts. “There was a war. A long time ago, between humans and dragons. Humans used to be the dominant population.”
What?
“They used to live in big cities, practise magic, fight with each other and live off the cream of the land. Hard to imagine something like that, right?”
Impossible to imagine. Anya tried picturing it and failed. Kalgrin spoke about magic. Anya had seen no magic, and Kalgrin simply implied it had fallen into disuse, somehow. Like people had forgotten. “But how could we rule against dragons? They’re so… strong.”
“Humans were stronger, with their magic.” Kalgrin automatically reached out a hand to steady Anya as she stumbled upon his carpet, not paying attention to her walk. The shiver of contact made her blink stupidly for a moment as he gripped her. Her mind started going ahead to certain scenarios. Maybe it struggled to imagine humans being leaders, but it certainly had no issues going through the fantasy of taking off Kalgrin’s clothes, leading him to bed, and having her wicked way with him. Her face flushed, even as Kalgrin continued explaining, apparently unaware of her sudden arousal. “Humans used to have powerful magic. It doesn’t matter if your opponent is a big lizard if you can blast them out of the sky with a rain of diamonds, or with thunderstorms and balls of fire. Humans used to enslave dragons.”
A quiet gasp slipped out of Anya's lips at this thought. No. She didn't believe it. “What? Really? How do you know?”
“History books. We keep information,” he answered. “See, this is why I think you
should learn to read. There’s so much knowledge written down!”
“Why should I learn to read when you can just tell me everything?”
“I…” he paused. “I guess that’s a good point.” His frown made her laugh.
“Sorry, Kal. You were saying?”
“Well, I was saying – you guys used to have magic. But something happened to your magic a while back. A sickness. Magic users caught some kind of disease; no one knew where it started. But it targeted magic, and your magic died. And, without magic… you became easy prey to the wyrms and the drakes. And ever since then, the roles have been reversed.” He gave a shrug. “But I suppose just as it suddenly vanished, it can find a way to come back. What if I told you that I know humans who wield magic and who are alive today?”
Anya shook her head. “I need to see it to believe it.”
Kalgrin smiled. “There's a school in the mountains. They take magic users if they find them, and train them. I haven't found a user myself yet. I don't have the ability to seek them. For all I know, half the humans in Tarn have magic, but because I've never seen it directly, they're just uncut gems, walking around. For all I know, you have magic. It's a strange thing.”
No. No one had magic. Except, he appeared adamant that the possibility was there. That he'd seen them.
She forced herself to accept his words for now. She'd still want to see one for herself... but he had no reason to lie to her. However, something bothered her.
In his story about humans once enslaving dragons, which she had issues processing as it was – then why did drakes bother helping humans at all? If humans had done this thing, then in a way, the dragons were justified in doing what they did. It sickened her to consider.
How could you justify anything like this?
“Why do drakes help us, then? It doesn’t sound like you have reason to.”
“Don’t we?” Kalgrin smiled. Affable. Maybe a little weary, too. Perhaps he'd experienced this type of discussion with others. “Times change. There are no excuses for suffering. Not when you’re punishing people a thousand years later, who have no memory of before. It makes us no better. And maybe one day, we’ll find the tables turned again. And it'll just keep going on in some big, bloody cycle.” He licked his lips, his eyes distant. Seeing something Anya didn’t understand. “We don’t have excuses anymore, little human. But we like to keep making them all the same.”
There was some truth in that. Anya thought the same thing about her people. How could they excuse such treatment? How did they keep allowing it year after year? Surely there reached a point where the excuses stopped?
Surely there came a time when people faced reality, and realized it’d never get better, not unless they did something about it? Surely... they could find a way to stop being the kind of broken that never picked itself up again.
Anya reflected on Kalgrin's words for a little while. She'd done this to distract herself, really, but the information was valuable all the same. Something she needed to know.
But now, she needed to face that tempest inside herself. The one that wondered if things might be more. If she could reach out to Kalgrin and touch him upon his face, and kiss those lips.
Anya sure made a lot of excuses for not confronting Kalgrin. Excuses like she wanted to be independent, she didn’t want to be beholden to a dragon, she didn’t feel ready…
Why bother distracting herself any further? She was here. Dressed up for the war to figure out Kalgrin's heart, and discover her own. She hovered at the edge of that emotional cliff, terrified to jump down. But she needed to.
Time to stop with those excuses, then.
“Kalgrin. You know I came over, wearing these nice clothes, and putting on this nice perfume?”
“I had noticed that,” he said, with a rather amused expression. “Why?”
“Well… it might be related to the fact that I have a house near you. And I enjoy excuses to go with you to those places. And I enjoy... talking to you. And... I don't want to leave you.”
Yes, she was babbling. Extending it. Her heart wanted to leap out of her mouth. Just get to the point! Kalgrin seemed frozen, like a statue.
“Okay. Kalgrin. I like you. And I want you. In every sense of the word.”
“Oh.” His eyes blackened. His nostrils flared, and his body trembled in pleasant shock. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Though I'm not sure what it might feel like. You know. Having a person you can wake up next to and smile at. My mom never had that. So many people I’ve known don’t get that happy ending. But I think with you… I’d like to try and taste it for myself.”
His smile softened. “It’s the least you deserve. To have some measure of happiness. You should never have been denied the chance in the first place.” A flicker of worry then consumed his face. “But, are you sure? I mean, I’m a dragon. I recall that you might have some issues with that fact.” His tone sounded like he was preparing for something. For her to retract her statement, or confirm it?
“That doesn’t matter to me anymore.” The truth.
Those words cleared the doubt in his eyes and settled the fluttering nervousness in her stomach. She didn’t know what she was saying, if she’d said it right, but she seemed to be hitting the right notes so far. It flowed naturally from her, when she let go of the excuses and let the truth trickle out.
I should have admitted this as soon as I began to feel it. Not entirely fair. She didn't understand it. And the fear... it ate at her. Insidiously, without her usually being aware it did so.
This, though. This was perfect.
He folded his arms neatly over his lap, and leaned forward, feet pointing to her. Those eyes of his seemed to twinkle now. They shared smiles, the kind that threatened to burst out of their bodies. “May I kiss you?” He waited, earnest, not making a move without her say-so.
How polite. She took a deep, glorious breath, which flooded her body with light and life. Maybe also a hint of excitement. “You may,” she said, pasting on a mock formal expression. It made her giggle, before her heart lurched further, since Kalgrin had stood up, his face hard with intent.
“Kissing in three, two, one…” He leaned forward and planted his lips on hers. That first contact came awkwardly, clumsily. Nothing like what Anya had imagined, where she thought stars might burst around them and the heavens then fell – the things they only told you in the best stories when love flourished and didn’t have to worry about the grind of everyday life. Of being crushed to the point where nothing remained.
Few people in the plantations became whole families, so they had to rely on the run of the community, and elected leaders within that community. Feeling strong bonds of love was considered dangerous, but people made those connections anyway. Some deep, primal part of them craved closeness. Craved affection.
A kiss from Kalgrin at first felt disappointing, likely because she didn't know how to kiss. She half expected fiery explosions and melting feelings in her, but really, it was just the unusual, smooth texture of the lips and the heat of their breaths that confused Anya. Did she keep breathing? Did she hold her breath until she couldn't anymore? Did she keep her eyes open or closed?
Open seemed rather awkward. Closed helped heighten the sense of the moment. Kalgrin worked at kissing with her, being patient with her lips, and it got to a point where the pressure they placed and the movements they conducted became natural and pleasant.
Sure, the countdown Kalgrin did might have been strange, but then again, the whole thing could be construed as strange. What mattered was the rapid beating of her heart, and the gentle way he touched her, and the patient affection he showed. Being embraced in such a way embarrassed and pleased her at the same time, tinged with a hint of sadness. She should have known something like this before. Not spent eighteen years of her existence barely making it above water.
Sometimes she wondered if she was doing the wrong thing when it came to the touches, the kisses. Those thoughts cleared away when she lost hersel
f in the moment. They slowly led one another to bed, taking the time to stop, to kiss, to caress.
The treatment made Anya want to cry – she couldn’t remember the last time someone held her with so much love. Not wanting to start blubbering her eyes out, she dove deeper into the kiss, into ruffling his floppy curls, into sharing herself with him. Just to stay in the moment, and to remember that Kalgrin wanted this as much as her. One by one they peeled off one another’s clothes, until both were naked – her skin had the hardened tan of working on the fields, and his was as pale as snow.
What a wondrous thing.
He stood back to admire her body, all the way from her freckled face to her soft, rounded breasts, calloused hands and strong thighs. She admired his body, too, the sculpted build, with broad, toned shoulders, not bulging with muscles but hinting at the power that lay within. He had a flat, hairless chest with the hint of abs showing – not quite a muscular demigod, but certainly an arousing sight to behold. Everything was just right.
He reached for her hand and kissed the rough underside, not caring if her skin was hard and lacking in softness. She had other soft parts to make up for it. She also couldn’t help but notice his growing erection, from the way it uncurled from small to big. She liked the way he always asked her if it was okay, though it eventually reached a point where she simply whispered into his ear, “Just shut up and fuck me.”
That worked pretty well. He lowered her down onto the mattress, those gray eyes dark and his body quivering in excitement. Anya’s cheeks flushed, her whole body raised up its temperature, making it feel as if she were about to burn up. Nothing else mattered at this moment except him.
He kissed her neck, warm air wafting onto her skin. He braced his arms on either side of her, sliding into position between her legs. His erection pressed against her stomach in a promise. A shivering, tantalizing promise. Would it hurt? Would it be pleasant? Would she let out a sigh from her lips and arch into him, or stiffen in pain?
