by Megan Linski
“Why should I tell you? You don’t seem eager to share your past with me,” I say, still surly.
“The story of my past would only make you cry,” he says. His smile falls into a frown. “It’s not something that I would burden you with.”
My insides run cold. Smok’s past, full of pain and suffering? I suppose it must be, for him to have ended up cursed as a dragon. But what could be so dark and mysterious that he doesn’t want to tell me?
Many things, Fliss, I think. Quit being rude.
I take a deep breath. With great difficulty, I jog up beside Smok and lay a hand on his arm. “Maybe I want to share the burden with you,” I say. “I’m very strong. I can handle it.”
“Your curiosity will get you killed someday.” He skims his hand over mine before dropping it. My fingers tingle at his touch.
“It’s not my fault. I must know things. Everything, as much as I can,” I insist.
I pull my hand away, and add, “But if you don’t want to share your story, it’s your own choice. I have no issue with telling mine.”
“I can share a little with you, some of the good things. I used to enjoy hunting,” he says. “I liked adventuring, exploring. I used to travel for days on my own, trekking through the forest. I suppose it was easier for me to handle the change as opposed to other men. I was always outside, anyhow.”
“Can’t you still do that?” I ask.
His face is downcast. “It’s no fun now that I’m a dragon. Prey can smell me coming if I’m a man, and they have no chance if I’m a beast. It’s far too easy. Sometimes it would take me days to hunt down a stag. Not so anymore.”
Not my idea of fun, but to each his own. “Maybe when we break the curse you can go hunting again, like you used to,” I say.
He seems thrilled by that. “Perhaps. Were you always a slave?” he asks, glancing at me.
I sigh. “No. I owed a debt to King Krakus. I had no way to pay it off, so he took ownership of me.”
“What did you owe him?”
“My life.”
Smok’s eyes and mine connect. “There was a dragon attack on my village when I was little,” I say. “I’ll be seventeen this summer so… nearly four years ago now.”
I pause when I realize it’ll be that long.
“What happened?”
“We had no chance of defending ourselves. My parents tried to run, but the dragon killed them both.”
“I apologize. That must’ve been terrible,” Smok says. He sounds sincere.
“It was.” My eyes still water thinking about it. I’ll never get over the sight of both of my parents burning to death after being caught within the dragon’s fire. I bite my lip to stop the quivering, and continue on.
“After it was done with my parents, the dragon turned on me. It was going to kill me next, but Krakus arrived with his men and slayed it. I was left with nothing, so Krakus took me back with him to live in his fortress and be a handmaiden to his daughter.”
“It sounds terribly hard.”
“It was, for a while. But after I befriended Wanda… that is, the princess… I felt better. Krakow is my home now.”
“I’m surprised you want to travel with me.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I remind him. “And it often crosses my mind that perhaps not all dragons are bad, if they don’t eat me first. Ow!”
I’ve walked headfirst into a tree. Smok stops, looking at me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Ooh.” I rub my head. I’ve developed a bump. “It’s my own fault. Clumsy me, not looking where I was going.”
“Let me see.” Smok parts my hair back. While he’s looking at the bump, I’m looking at him.
“It’s seems fine,” he finally says.
“It is,” I say. Gods, I can’t get over how gorgeous his eyes are. Dragons are truly magical creatures.
Smok steps back. “As long as you’re not hurt.” He continues on. “Did you do serve anyone else at the fortress while you were there?”
“Sometimes I sang with the bards. The guests liked to joke I was part siren.” I giggle.
“I wouldn’t consider it a lie. Your voice is lovely.”
Smok glances up at the sky, and stops in his tracks. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” I ask, but it’s a pointless question as I see the biggest, blackest storm cloud forming above us. The wind picks up considerably, bending the trees. Where did it come from? Minutes ago it was a calm, sunny day.
“We have to hurry. It’s starting to hail,” Smok says, moving toward me.
“Hail? In the middle of summer?” I ask.
It’s at that moment a large chunk of ice smacks me right on the arm. “Ouch! I think I prefer flying,” I confess. “I get less hurt!”
“We have to find shelter,” Smok says. He grabs me by the arm and pulls me through the forest. His strides are long; I can barely keep up with him. In the blink of an eye rain starts downpouring from the sky, soaking us from skin to bone. We dodge hail as it shoots downward from the heavens, lightening crackling above us. Thunder crashes, shattering my ears.
“This is quite a storm!” I shout over the noise.
“It’s not any normal storm. It’s an Ala,” he yells back at me. “A demon of bad weather. Zirnitra must’ve sent it to slow us down after he failed to find us.”
“But why? Why does he care so much?” I bellow.
“He doesn’t want me to break the curse. He enjoys seeing me suffer,” Smok says.
There’s a cave in the distance. Smok sees it, and turns in its direction. We follow a river that flows near it until we reach the cavern.
Smok pulls me inside, out of the downpour, before venturing back outside himself. He becomes a dragon. I back away from the edge of the dripping cave, shivering.
“Here,” Smok says. He opens his mouth, and a wave of hot breath flows softly over me. My clothes are dried instantly, though a thick layer of dried mud now coats them. He changes back into a man and ventures inside. The wetness rises off of him, becoming steam as he draws close.
We’re both covered in grime. I wrinkle my nose as I look down at my ruined dress. “This is disgusting. I’m rather hungry. Did you bring any food?”
“I didn’t bring any supplies,” he confesses. “Silly of me not to prepare.”
He stands up, to head back out into the rain. “Stay here. I won’t be long.”
“What about the Ala?” I ask.
“He can’t harm me. He’s not powerful enough. I was more concerned about getting you inside.” Smok ventures back out into the storm, changes into a dragon, and takes off.
“Thanks for asking me about it,” I grumble. I stomp to the back of the cave and sit down, to wait. I hope Smok returns before Zirnitra finds me.
Night fall is when Smok returns. He ventures back into the cave, holding a leather bag. It’s still pouring out there.
“Here,” he says, handing me the bag. “There’s food and fresh clothes inside, though I wouldn’t suggest wearing them until after we bathe tomorrow.”
I find a full wineskin and several meat pies. I hand a pie to Smok, wondering if it’ll be enough for him, before grabbing one for myself. He takes it with thanks and we eat quietly, sharing the wineskin.
“Do you think it’ll be enough for the journey?” I ask.
“It should be. I know someone who can help us get to the sea quicker,” he says.
“Another friend of yours? Oh, wonderful.” I roll my eyes.
“She is a friend,” he insists. “You’ll see.”
He leans against the wall of the cave. “You should huddle up next to me again, to keep warm. It’s going to be a long night. I doubt the Ala will stop its torrent against us until morning.”
“But you’re not a dragon,” I stammer.
“My fire is still inside. It’ll prevent you from freezing out here.”
Smok opens up his arms expectantly. I glance to the side, but he gives me a firm look. Awkwardly, I shuffle into them
. He folds his arms around me. It’s like a thick, warm blanket has wrapped me up, almost like his wings. I can feel his heartbeat as it dances on the back of my chest.
Smok is holding me different than he was earlier. He’s stiff, and rigid. Almost like he wants to keep his distance.
I try to find somewhere to rest my head, but I can’t find a position I find comfortable. Giving up, I do the obvious, and lay my head slowwwly on his chest. He doesn’t move, but his face flinches.
Didn’t know I was that unattractive. I let out a whoosh of breath, and listen as his soft breaths lull me to sleep. Underneath my hand, the song of the fire dances within his breast.
My back hurts the next morning when I awaken. I groan, sitting up, to find I slept on it wrong.
Smok is, once again, nowhere to be found. Unbelievable.
“I’m getting really tired of waking up by myself,” I mutter, getting to my feet. Would it really be that hard for Smok to tell me where he’s going before he took off to gods know where?
I walk out of the cave. The sight in front of me is equivalent to smacking me awake.
Smok is bathing in the river outside the cave, his clothes thrown carelessly over a branch. He runs his hands through his wet hair, arching his back as the water flows over his perfect skin and chiseled torso flawlessly.
His bottom half is covered up by the river, but the water’s awfully low. I avert my eyes upward, and they wander over his body. He has even more muscles than I thought he did.
His chest and arms are covered with all sorts of scars. Battle marks? Or something else?
His face is calm and content in the morning light, something I haven’t seen it be until now. He pours water over himself, and opens his eyes. His gaze snags mine.
“Oh. Hello, Fliss.” Smok continues washing up, as if I’m not standing there watching him. Water dangles off of his long eyelashes. “I was wondering when you’d awaken.”
He has absolutely no problem with me being here. Does he do this often? Did he, when he was a man and not a dragon? An image of Smok running nude throughout the woods like some sort of wild man flashes through my head, and my cheeks redden.
“Yes, I’m up,” I say quickly. I try to keep my eyes on his. “Will we be leaving soon?”
“In a bit. I’ll get out quickly so you can bathe as well.”
I nearly choke at the thought of discarding my clothes in front of Smok. He doesn’t intend to watch me, does he? I’m not as confident as he is.
“All right.” I turn on my heel. “I’ll just be waiting over here, then.”
“I don’t mind if you stay,” he says casually, shrugging. “I have no shame in my body,”
“Of course you don’t,” I grumble. Why would he, when he looks like that? I stomp away, my mood ruined.
He turned away when I leaned against him last night. Holding me was for my own survival so I could help him break the curse. No other reason.
I can’t hold a candle to that glorious body.
I walk for a while, until I can’t see Smok anymore. I sigh in relief. Thank the gods that uncomfortable situation is over.
“Fliss. Fliss.”
“Hello?” I ask. A strange voice, one that I don’t know, is calling me throughout the wood. “Who’s there?”
“Fliss. Fliss.” The voice repeats itself, louder this time. Curious, I hike further into the woods to see where it’s coming from.
“How do you know my name?” I ask. “Where are you?”
My head is starting to buzz, like it’s full of bees. My thoughts turn clouded and fuzzy. Smok trickles away on the edges of my mind, a distant memory. I forget him completely.
“Follow me, Fliss. Follow me.”
For some reason, I consider that to be a perfectly good idea. “Very well.”
Everything vanishes from my mind. I can’t remember how I got here, or why I’m walking through the woods. My tongue swells up in my mouth and my limbs feel heavy. It takes great effort to move my feet.
“What’s going on? Where am I?” I ask. My voice thickens and slurs. “I want to go back home. I want to find Wanda. Where is Wanda?”
“Wanda’s nearby, Fliss. This way,” the voice says.
“I’m coming, Wanda,” I whisper. I move thick foliage aside and clamber clumsily through the bushes. I stumble after the voice. It leads me straight to the edge of a cliff, towering high above the flat ground. The river rushes by below. It is no longer a tender trickle, but a furious, rushing stream. I don’t know how I got up here when I was right next to the water minutes ago.
There’s a curious creature floating on thin air over the ledge. It looks like a man made of bark, with long arms like tree branches and feet that resemble roots. A beard of moss grows on its chin, and deer antlers poke out from the top of its head. The creature’s eyes are shiny and multiple, like those of a beetle.
Though he seems scary, I’m not afraid. Merely interested in what it has to say next.
“Step off the edge, Fliss,” it says. “Then all your troubles will be over.”
I peer over the side. The river is a great distance below me. “I… I don’t know…” I say. “It’s very far.”
“You’ll be fine, Fliss,” the creature insists. “Jump. Jump.”
“But I don’t want to.” I try to take a step backward, but I can’t. It’s like roots have sprouted out of my feet and have planted me to the spot.
“Fliss, trust me,” the creature hisses. “Wanda’s down there. She’s waiting for you.”
“Wanda. Yes.” I hold my breath. Following the voice, I step off the cliff and fall headfirst into the rushing river below.
Chapter Ten
The water is a pit of despair and suffering. I’m lucky enough not to hit my head, but the fall plummets me far beneath the rushing stream, the water sapphire and turbulent. I see the grey skies above and claw my way toward the surface, but the current crashes me against a rock, and tumbles me over and over until I’m so disoriented I don’t know which way is up.
Water flows up my nostrils and starts filling my insides. I attempt to breathe, but there’s no air. A sharp pain fills my head, dots flashing in front of my eyes. My vision goes black, and then returns several times, the darkness lengthening each time.
I’m drowning. This is it. I’m going to die…
I feel a large hand grasp my arm and pull me upward. My body splashes out of the water and flops onto the wet shore. I’m dragged a far way away from the current, while my body struggles to cough up the excess water.
When I’m finally released, I roll over and vomit. Water comes streaming out of my mouth and nose in great amounts.
When I’m done, my nose is burning, and my head feels like it’s on fire. Air flows into my body again. Life.
“Serduszko!” Once again, Smok has saved me from certain death. Thank the gods, at least he’s wearing clothes. He kneels beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right, moja droga?”
“I’m… fine…” I hack up another stream of water. My head’s still spinning. Did he just call me sweetheart? “What happened?”
“It was a Blud. A dark fairy of the woodland, or dark fae, as they’re sometimes called,” he explains. “Zirnitra must’ve sent him after us as well.”
“I can’t remember.” Vaguely, an image of the Blud comes to mind, blurry and fragmented. “All I can recall is feeling like I had no idea where I was.”
“It’s the Blud’s magic. He confuses humans, until they’re so trapped within his enchantment so he can convince them to do whatever he wants.” Smok brushes a patch of wet hair out of my eyes.
“Why didn’t he enchant you?” I ask.
“The Blud’s magic doesn’t work on dragons,” he explains, looking me over. “Well, I suppose you no longer need a bath. Stand up. I’ll dry you off.”
I do so, thinking he’s going to turn into a dragon again. Instead, he steps forward and wraps me up in a tight hug. Steam starts rising off my clothes and skin.
I put my head on his chest when he holds me, just to smell his scent. I never noticed it before, but it’s dark, and heavy. It’s the smell of a smoldering fire after it burns to ashes, smoke still rising from within the embers.
Smok lets me go. I can’t help but feel disappointed. He reaches into his bag and hands me a fresh dress. “Here. Get changed, and we’ll be off.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “I’m not changing in front of you! Just because you’re comfortable flaunting your naked body to the world doesn’t mean we all are!”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone for the sake of modesty,” he argues, crossing his arms. “You’ve nearly died twice already. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“I knew this journey would be perilous when I agreed to it,” I say. “The least you could do is give me some privacy.”
“If it bothers you that much, I won’t look. But I’m staying right here.”
Smok’s feet are firmly planted to the ground. I grip the dress, fingers turning white. “Fine. But… close your eyes,” I say.
He sighs, then shuts them. I strip off the black dress, toss it to the side and pull on the new one, keeping my eyes on his face.
When I’m done, I smack him on the shoulder, and say, “Let’s go.”
My slap probably felt like a poke to him, if he even felt it through those layers of muscle. And he accused me of being stubborn. Ass.
Smok is a quiet person, but he’s even more silent than usual as we continue our journey through the woods. I can tell by the ridged stiffness of his jawline he’s thinking about something.
“What bothers you?” I ask. He glances at me, and I say, “Don’t lie. It’s written all over your face.”
Smok bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m wondering if I made the right decision to break the curse,” he confesses. “It doesn’t feel right, putting you in danger like this.”
“Zirnitra said you had tried before,” I say. “How many times?”
“A few. Until this point, I never had the courage to find a girl who agreed to come with me,” he confesses. “I was just looking for the right one.”
“Well, I’m not like other girls, so you don’t have to worry about that,” I say playfully, nudging him with my elbow. “I’ve got it handled. I’ve already had my share of life-threatening situations. We got them out of the way early. It’s your turn next time.”
