“I’m sorry.”
I froze. Literally went stone-still right there on the garden path. I’d heard of people being “shocked still” before, but I hadn’t realized it was a legit physical phenomenon until this moment. When I finally did manage to turn around, my father was sitting on Dr. Kowalski’s back step with his head lowered, his sharp, too-thin shoulders slumped inward like an old, defeated man.
“One of the greatest dangers for a dragon is living in the past,” he told the gravel path between his cheap sandals. “It was that weakness that was my father’s downfall. He was nearly ten thousand, old enough to know better, yet he still saw humans merely as prey to be chased down and devoured. He did not see what I saw, didn’t notice their leaps in intelligence, tenacity, and creativity. He had failed to adapt, which was why he suspected nothing when I worked with the ancient mortals to lure him out into the deep water where I was waiting.”
I knew where this story was going. “You killed him.”
Yong nodded, flexing his human fingers as if he were remembering the way it felt. “He deserved to die. He was rigid and prideful and weak. An old snake too stiff-necked to look up and see that the world had changed, and that the son he’d taken for granted was not like him. When I ate his fire, I swore that I would never be so stupid. Never repeat his mistakes. But I did.”
He looked at me then. I stared back nervously, too unsure of what was happening to even set down the empty water barrel I was still holding suspended in the air. My father talked about the past all the time, just not his. He could tell you the complete history of any country in the world, but he’d never told me this.
“I thought I knew what was best for you,” he went on, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it over the wind in the trees. “You were such a ridiculous, emotional creature. You needed guidance. I thought I was giving that to you. Thought I knew what that was. When I look at you now, though—what you’ve done, what you’re capable of—I realize I don’t know you at all.”
He sounded so sad it made me uncomfortable. All of this did, which was strange because this was exactly what I’d wanted. I wanted him to realize that I wasn’t that bumbling girl anymore. I just hadn’t been prepared for how upset it would make him.
“It’s not that you don’t know me,” I said, setting down the empty barrel at last. “I’m just not a child anymore. Mortals change. We grow up.”
“I know that,” he replied angrily, fisting his bony hands where they rested on his knees. “I am Yong of Korea! I’ve had more mortals than most dragons have gold. I’ve grown and defended an empire on my own with no clan for over a thousand years purely by understanding and harnessing just how fast humans can change. I know perfectly well how mortals grow, I just….” He sighed. “I didn’t see it in you. The same stubborn blindness I despised in my father was in my own eyes all this time, and I didn’t even notice because I didn’t want to see. I wanted you to stay forever as you were: a happy, foolish little puppy, rolling at my feet.”
“But I never was that,” I said, frustrated. “You were always calling me ‘puppy’ or ‘dog girl,’ but I’m not. I’m not your pet!”
“I never saw you as such.”
“Then why do you treat me like one?”
My father sighed again. “Because it was safer.”
I scowled in confusion, and my father ran his hands over his face. “I never saw you as lesser,” he said, his voice patient and sad. “From the moment your mother handed you to me after you were born, I’ve considered you my own child. Better than my own, for my offspring would have been dragons like me. Born backstabbers forever after my lands, my fire, and my head. It is because you were human that I was free to care for you, to treasure you as much as I wanted without fear of betrayal.”
“Then you did see me as less,” I argued. “You only ‘treasured’ me because you thought I was too weak to hurt you. Because I was safe. How is that not looking down on me?”
My father’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he shook his head in disgust. “As I said,” he muttered. “I was blind. Blind and stupid, so much so that I’m still discovering how far my willful ignorance reached.” He looked down at the ground again. “How fitting that you should be the one who brought me down. Karma truly does flow in a circle.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now who’s being ridiculous?” I said, walking over to plop down on the step beside him. “I didn’t ‘bring you down.’ You tried to cage me, and I fought back. I’m not going to apologize for defending myself, but that doesn’t mean we’re fated to be enemies. If there’s any karma involved in this, it’s that your bad actions came around to bite you in the tail. Fortunately, there’s an easy solution to that. If you don’t want me to keep fighting you, stop forcing me to do things I don’t want to do. Let me decide what’s best for me, and maybe we can
