by Emma Hamm
And gods, she was beautiful. He couldn’t stop looking at her, filling his eyes with the impossibility of her.
How long had he felt alone in this world? How long had it been since he’d been able to be himself without fear someone would look at him with disgust?
To think, he’d been convinced she lied. That there couldn’t possibly be another person cursed to be a dragon, not when he already lived in this hell. He’d been so convinced that the Earthen folk lied that he hadn’t even entertained that this could be possible.
She arched her neck, stretching up to the sky with her wings spread wide. Rainbows danced on the surface, and he wondered if she could learn to fly. The membranes looked so thin, nearly transparent. He worried she would tumble from the sky if the slightest thing touched them.
But then he reminded himself that he too could fly, and that she would never fall far from his grasp.
Stretching his own wings wide, he gave a few experimental beats. It had been a long time since he’d attempted this. The last time, he had been nothing more than a child. Just a boy wanting to impress his older brother, not realizing that Hakim was terrified of the beast his little brother could turn into.
Wind caught on his wings, stretching them to their fullest and it felt right. Everything about this felt as it should. He tried harder, pushing his body to the limits and pushed his back legs into the sand, lifting off the ground. Up and up he went until the tip of his tail was the only thing left touching the ground.
Excited, he looked at Sigrid and continued to laboriously hold himself in place. She had to see this. To see that it was possible. If he could fly, so much larger than she, then she could lift herself from the ground.
She watched him with narrowed eyes. Determination was perhaps her best quality, he decided, as she flapped her wings. She struggled, wavered for a moment, then slowly lifted into the air.
He swelled with pride and he felt yet another roar building in his chest. Was this connection what his brother had talked about all those years ago? Hakim had always been searching for a sultana who would make his heart sing, his soul take wing, and all the stars in the sky dim in comparison to her beauty.
Nadir had laughed at him then. He said such a woman didn’t exist, and in a way, he’d been right. Such a woman didn’t exist. Only a beast.
She shot up into the air, higher and higher until she slid between the clouds and disappeared from his sight. Concerned, he followed her. Red rays of light streaked his scales, turning the burgundy to ruby red.
Cold clouds soothed the heat in his chest. They brushed his skin like the hands of a lover before he pushed through the wisps and was nearly blinded by the sun.
He held himself still in the air, wings beating as he searched for her.
This place looked like a different land. The clouds rolled, mimicking the ocean but capped in white and so still he felt like he could hear for the first time. No birds flew this high. No people talked or animals brayed. This undiscovered place now was home to only him and Sigrid.
A soft, songlike call from behind made him crane his neck. She glided on a ribbon of wind and gently sailed past him. Graceful, even though she’d been frightened to even attempt this.
Her tail caught him at the shoulder, trailing along the length of his neck and then slipping off his blunt chin. Gods, she knew what she did to him, and it didn’t bother her in the slightest. An icy blue eye caught his attention. Laughter bubbled in its depths.
Had he ever seen her laugh? Truly laugh. The kind that came from deep within a person and exploded so forcefully they wouldn't try to stop it?
He didn’t think he ever had. And he’d hazard a guess that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it. He wanted to see her laugh. He wanted to see her face when she did a good many things, and there wasn’t enough time in their lives for him to explore every emotion inside her.
A pity, but he planned to try.
They flew for hours above the clouds until there was no more sunlight to heat their skin. Then, they were guided by the silver light of the moon and the stars twinkling above them. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been this happy. Not since his brother had died, at least.
Eventually, he noticed her breathing change. She didn’t want to land, not quite yet, but he decided for them knowing she grew tired. It was possible to hurt herself like this. And he wouldn’t see her harmed.
He powerfully opened and closed his wings, nudging clouds out of the way so that he could see where they were. He stopped every few minutes, checking their location, until he finally found the bowl in the sand where her maidservant had declared it safe.
Landing on his back feet, he buffeted the sands and let his wings strike the ground hard. He was exhausted, but still turned to watch her land clumsily. A bellowing chortle escaped his mouth. It wasn’t a sound he’d ever made before, but he found that he quite liked it.
The second time changing back to his form was easier. This was how he remembered it as a child. There wasn’t any feeling of being locked in as a dragon, just the quiet shift from scale to flesh.
He stood in the center of the bowl, now much deeper than before from their powerful wing beats, and stepped closer to Sigrid.
She crouched in the moonlight, looking like a creature out of some mysterious myth. Her neck extended the closer he got. A welcoming invite for him to touch her, he hoped, because that was what he did.
Nadir slid his hand along the flat of her cheek to the ring of tiny horns that made up her crown. They were white as bone and just as hard. He let his hand wander until he couldn’t reach any further forward, marveling at her design.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
She dropped her head until her chin rested on the sand, and then she melted back to the woman he was enamored with.
This creature from Wildewyn had more than captured his attention by now. The glimmering icy dress gave its own song even as she remained crouched in the sand at his feet. The white locks of her hair shone blue in the moonlight. She looked very much like a djinn, suddenly appearing to grant him three wishes.
Nadir gulped. “Was it everything you hoped for, wife?”
“And more.” She looked up then, and he was gutted by the appreciation in her gaze. “Thank you.”
Would he ever get used to seeing her face? It was such a rarity, and he wanted to see it more often. The longer he knew her, the more her beauty glowed from within. “Good.”
He reached out a hand for her to take and pride bloomed in his chest again when she took it without hesitation. They were moving forward. She didn’t hesitate to touch him anymore, had even initiated it in the great hall. Now that they were alone together, her eyes met his without defiance or anger.
He led her out of the bowl to their horses. He’d glimpsed them while in the clouds and had to still his own animalistic hunger. Even as a dragon, they looked like they would be a delicious meal. The mere thought sent gooseflesh rising all over his skin. He wasn’t an animal. He was a man.
He could control the beast.
“Nadir?” she whispered.
“Yes, wife?”
“We were safe here. No one saw us, and no one bothered us. I know it’s not something you’d like to do often, but I am just finding this part of myself.” She paused, gaze skating away from his. “I should like to return, with my sister if possible, and no guards.”
His gut reaction was no. He didn’t want her to be anywhere far from the palace without a guard. Though Bymere was relatively safe, there were plenty who would attack him through a defenseless wife.
But she wasn’t Saafiya. She was trained in the art of war, and she knew far more than any female he’d ever met before.
He nodded. “The first time you see anything that looks dangerous, you return to me.”
“I promise, husband.”
Nadir took that promise to heart. She would keep herself safe and hidden, or he would destroy all of Bymere to find her.
&nb
sp; Sigrid
Sigrid ran through a hundred different scenarios in her head every day, each more detailed than the last, to get out of the Red Palace and into the sands. But no matter how hard she tried, there was always one person who found her out. Namely, the first wife who seemed determined that Sigrid would remain in her room and not touch anything.
Although Sigrid understood her dislike, there was something more than a general disdain for Beastkin. It was almost as if Saafiya was afraid of her. The warrior capabilities of the Wildewyn Beastkin were renowned throughout the realms, and yet it didn’t seem that this was the first wife’s concern.
Eventually, Sigrid could take it no more. She had to sort this out, for her own peace of mind and to ensure Saafiya wouldn't interfere. She didn’t care if the woman wanted to hate her for a reason unexplained. But she couldn't stop Sigrid from seeing the other Beastkin.
She stood outside the first wife’s personal chambers and took a deep breath, adjusting the mask on her face once more. It was a nervous tick. She logically knew that no one could see her face and that the mask had never fallen off before. Still, she worried that she would turn too fast. The entire piece might fall off, and then she would have to kill the first wife.
Old traditions were brutal. Best to avoid them at all costs.
Camilla wanted to come. She said that the concubines should see that there was at least one person willing to support Sigrid. Her sister bristled at the mere idea that people disliked her because one person decided they shouldn't.
Sigrid said her sister’s dedication was unwarranted in this case. She had little desire to make the first wife feel as though she were being attacked. The purpose of this meeting was to understand where the woman was coming from. Nothing more, nothing less.
She lifted her hand and knocked on the door. The solid wood thudded under her fist, echoing through the chamber beyond.
A muffled voice, too far away to understand the words, responded. Footsteps strode toward the door, and then it opened to reveal a sun-darkened face surrounded by dark hair that fell like a waterfall to the concubine’s waist. She wore a bright and sunny smile that promptly fell away when she realized who was at their door.
“The sultana is not taking visitors,” the woman whispered, then began to shut the door.
“I wish to talk,” Sigrid insisted.
She might have put her foot in the door jamb if she hadn’t heard Saafiya’s voice call out, “Who is it?”
“The second wife, Sultana.” The concubine kept the door cracked only a small bit so that Sigrid couldn’t see into the room.
The silence afterward was the still silence of a tomb. Sigrid waited with her hands clasped at her waist. They would see no reaction in her body. She simply wouldn’t allow it. And none of them knew her well enough to recognize the slightest movement of her mask as she chewed her lip.
“She may enter,” Saafiya responded.
Steeling herself for what felt like a battle, Saafiya stepped into the inner sanctum of the first wife.
She’d always wondered what kind of place this woman would live in. Saafiya seemed the type of person who would enjoy opulence. The glamorous interior proved her correct.
The room was an oasis in the middle of the desert. Palm trees created shady havens in the corners, planted directly into a floor made of polished white marble. Twin pools outlined the room. The thin channels teemed with golden fish that flicked their tails and swam away as she crossed a thin bridge over the pond.
Red curtains hung from the keyhole windows. The room was high enough in the palace that there was a lovely cross breeze that shifted the curtains with each movement. A high ceiling rose into what Sigrid suspected was one of the domes. An artist had painstakingly painted a giant mandala with gold paint that glimmered overhead.
She’d never seen such splendor in a single room, and it appeared that was the entire point. Saafiya lazed on a small bench next to the pool, her gown nearly touching the water. The red fabric was hand-stitched with gold embroidery that glimmered in the light. Her handmaidens fanned her with a giant palm leaf though her skin still glimmered with a slight sheen of sweat. Just enough to make her look as though she, too, were made of gold.
“Why have you come?” she asked, her words acidic. “I didn't summon you here, second wife.”
Sigrid wanted to ask why the woman insisted on calling her that. It was almost as if she thought it were an insult. That because Saafiya had been here first, that she was more important.
Perhaps to the people of Bymere, she was. But Sigrid now held a secret of the sultan that no one else knew. And that secret gave her strength.
Sigrid cleared her throat. “I’ve been here for a few months now and have yet to have the pleasure of your company. I thought, perhaps, we might speak.”
“I've no wish to speak with—” Saafiya caught herself, pausing on a word that Sigrid knew would cut to the core. “With you. I've no wish to speak with you.”
“You don’t like Beastkin.” It was blunt, but obviously the truth.
The first wife sighed. “No, I do not.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I understand we must make you uncomfortable. Bymere does not welcome my kind as easily as Wildewyn.”
Saafiya sat up, the crimson fabric of her gown pooling around her like blood. Her top was cut at the ribs, revealing natural, caramel skin that was not darkened by the sun. Ebony hair flowed over her shoulder. It reflected the light in blues and greens and a few strands of white ribboning through the river of her hair.
The first wife shook her head and a razor-sharp grin spread across her face. “We’ve welcomed none of your kind before. Humans should not live with animals. It goes against our nature. As you can see, there’s no easy way for any of us to be comfortable with you here.”
“We don’t consider ourselves animals. Why should you?”
“Let me educate you, because you know nothing about our land or the dangers of your kind. You barged into my private quarters. Now you will listen.” Saafiya flicked her fingers, and a concubine ran for a chair.
Sigrid sat in the offered seat, her thighs tense, ready to leap to her feet if need be. She didn’t trust this woman enough to take a drink from her hand.
“Please,” Sigrid said, echoing the first wife’s gesture. “Continue.”
A spark seared in Saafiya’s gaze. “My husband should have told you this when you first arrived. Bymere doesn't have a kind history with Beastkin, and it was only through blood that we beat them back into the hovels where they now remain. Let no one else fool you. The Beastkin still exist in our realm, and we will continue to hunt them until our dying breath.”
So, the first wife knew that there were still some lingering Beastkin. Many people in the palace had claimed Sigrid was the only Beastkin in Bymere. Did she know her own husband was one of these “beasts” as she liked to call them?
Saafiya continued. “Bymere has long been a warring kingdom. Each part used to have their own leaders, tribal like your homeland. Misthall, Falldell, Glasslyn, each with its own sultan and each believing they alone knew how to unite the kingdoms. The Beastkin came to our kingdom only when the kingdoms united. But then again, they've always been an opportunistic race.
“Soon they tried to raise their own leaders. They wanted rights, they wanted to be seen as people. And when we refused, they started a war.” Saafiya shook her head. “It was the bloodiest time in Bymerian history.”
A few concubines joined Sigrid. They sat down around her as if she wasn't there. In looking at them, Sigrid realized just how young they were. The first wife had filled the sultan’s home with concubines who were nearly children. Saafiya had made herself a matriarch without the title.
“We tried to fight them,” Saafiya’s voice shook with anger. “For years, we tried. I was a little girl when a lion attacked our village. We thought at first it had simply wandered out of the desert. Its ribs were showing, and surely it was starving. But then we realized there was a
smarter mind inside the beast who tore through our guards like they were nothing more than flowers in a garden. I watched my brother die a horrible death. All because these creatures weren’t controlled as they should have been.”
And just like that, Sigrid understood where her hatred came from. Losing a family member, and one so close, must have made Saafiya into the woman she was now.
Sigrid leaned forward in the chair, her hands tucked into her skirts. “I’m Beastkin, and I can tell you that we do not think like animals while in our other forms. Though he was not thinking like a lion, it sounds as if that Beastkin was truly starving. Perhaps he had gone mad—”
Saafiya shook her head and interrupted. “The animal attacked our village because it wanted to. Not because it was starving or any other excuse that you’ll make up for it. The beast killed fifteen of our men and didn’t swallow a single one. If this animal was starving, I might have forgiven the deaths. But it wasn’t. It killed fifteen men and left them there to rot in the sun.”
Sigrid didn’t have a response or an explanation for the Beastkin's actions. It wasn’t like their kind to be so brutal. But there must have been a reason.
“I can see your thoughts behind those strange eyes,” Saafiya murmured. “He wasn’t doing it for any reason other than he wanted to. Men and beasts are similar in that way.”
“It’s not like any Beastkin I know to do such a thing.”
“These are not the Beastkin you know. Regardless, there’s a monster inside you that always wants to claw its way out. People reason. Animals attack.”
Stunned and speechless, Sigrid watched Saafiya stand. She shooed the concubines away, some grumbling that they wanted to listen to their mistress’s conversation with the Beastkin.
“It’s like watching a dog be scolded,” one whispered.
Their words stung. Sigrid squeezed her fists and remained silent while they insulted her as if she wasn’t in the room. Perhaps she wasn’t in their eyes. Perhaps they fundamentally thought she couldn’t understand them.
