Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was curled in her nest, her head tucked under a wing, and her tail snug around her body. She unfurled her wings, myriad colors flickering on her scales, like rainbows in an opal. A glint of gold under the dragon’s haunches revealed her precious eggs. Zaarusha extended her neck, facing Marlies, her yellow eyes dull.
Marlies stretched out her hand to touch the dragon queen’s snout, so they could mind-meld. She forced her thoughts to be cheery. The last thing Zaarusha needed was sadness.
“Thank you for coming,” Zaarusha’s voice thrummed in Marlies’ mind.
“How are your dragonets doing today?”
“My babies are fine.”
Babies. Marlies flinched.
“Only a few more weeks until they hatch.” Zaarusha’s sigh echoed like a rock clattering down a mountainside. “Syan will never see our dragonets. I miss him: his companionship; flying together. Hunting.” The queen flicked her tongue out.
“Did anyone bring you food?”
“They did, but I had no appetite.”
Marlies scratched the queen’s eye ridges. “Would you like to hunt tonight? A meal would do you good. It’s been a while.”
“A week.” The dragon’s belly rumbled.
Marlies smiled. “You are hungry. Sorry, I couldn’t come sooner. Several of our wounded have infections and fevers, so I haven’t left the infirmary for days.”
“I can always rely on you.” Zaarusha gazed at her, eyes unblinking. “You’ll take care of my eggs?”
“Of course. I’m not Syan, but I’ll do my best.”
“Remember not to touch them.” Zaarusha butted Marlies’ shoulder with her snout. “I won’t be long.”
“The fresh air will do you good.”
Careful not to crush the eggs, the dragon queen rose to her feet and stepped out of her nest. She sprang to the open mouth of her den and, with a flash of her colorful wings, leaped off the mountainside and was swallowed by darkness.
Marlies turned back to the nest. Four golden eggs, as tall as a boy of ten summers, were nestled in the hay. The torch’s flames made their translucent shells glow. Through the tough membrane of the eggs, dragonets were visible. The green flexed its wing nubs. Marlies held her breath, watching the magical creature.
“Zaarusha’s babies.” Unconsciously, her hand went to her belly. She swallowed. These were the last of the royal offspring. Syan, Zaarusha’s mate, had been killed in battle. His rider, Yanir, too. Anakisha and Zaarusha had tried to save them, but Anakisha had fallen from dragonback, plunging into their enemies’ hands. Zaarusha had still been carrying eggs, so, not wanting to risk the lives of her babies, she’d been forced to abandon her rider and her mate and return to Dragons’ Hold.
For two moons, the Hold had been grieving—but no one as hard as Zaarusha. She whimpered when she slept, and keened by day. The only things keeping her clinging to life were her duty to the realm and the beautiful creatures moving within these fragile shells.
For Marlies, seeing the dragonets was like walking on glittering shards. Their beauty transfixed her but cut deeply. Married for three years now, she and Hans had no children. True, she was still young, only in her nineteenth year, but something was wrong.
Although she’d healed other barren women using herbal remedies, she couldn’t heal herself. Only Hans knew the herbs she’d tried, the rituals by full moon and the tears she’d shed in his arms. And not even he knew of her bitter tears when she was alone. Every babe born at Dragons’ Hold gave her reason to rejoice and cause for pain. Royal dragonets were no exception.
All gangly limbs and neck, the orange dragonet turned over. The deep blue dragon baby opened its jaws. The green wriggled. In the smallest shell, the purple dragonet was curled in a ball, its wings folded tight against its back. It was so delicate, so fragile, somehow endearing.
Her breath a whisper, Marlies watched it sleep.
It was still for a long time.
Perhaps it wasn’t sleeping. Perhaps something was wrong.
Marlies moved closer, but recalled Zaarusha’s warning. “Remember not to touch them.”
As if it sensed her, the purple dragonet woke.
A faint humming came from the egg. Marlies’ breath caught. She leaned closer, her nose a hand’s breadth from the golden shell. If only she had her own babe to hold, to croon to. She caught herself humming back to Zaarusha’s babe. Why not? She ached to have a baby. Why shouldn’t she sing to Zaarusha’s dragonet?
The dragonet pushed against the thin gold membrane, seeking her. First its snout, and then its body. Its crooning grew louder.
Was it calling her?
The dragonet’s eyes pleaded with her.
Unable to help herself, Marlies sang a lullaby.
The baby dragon’s music swelled, drawing Marlies closer, wrapping around her. The lonely, empty aching inside her eased. Her fingertips brushed the shell. She gasped in shock, but before she could draw her hand away, a heartbeat pulsed through the membrane, making her fingers tickle. Euphoria swept through her. Marlies laughed, like she hadn’t in years.
The dragonet’s humming rose in pitch then fell—it was laughing, as if they were sharing a joke.
Marlies lay her hands against the shell and closed her eyes, focusing on the voice and the pulse of the creature before her. Her hands filled with energy, her head with music. The stone floor swayed beneath her feet. Marlies felt as light as a petal drifting on a breeze, as radiant as a star.
The dragonet’s pulse grew stronger, bounding against her hands. Energy ran up her arms to her core. Then it stopped.
Marlies’ eyes flew open.
The dragonet was lying on its back, floating in the shell, its wings limp beneath it. She pressed her hands against the shell. No hum. No pulse.
“Please, please, no.” Her voice caught. She rubbed her hands against the shell, willing the dragonet to move.
But there was only silence.
Stillness.
Nothing beneath her hands.
Marlies’
