“To honor my daughter,” she supplied finally. “It brings me closer to her.”
“I see the resemblance between you and Helena and Rhianna,” he offered truthfully. It was amazing a likeness still existed. “If your hair had stayed red, it would be even more pronounced.”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes for a second. “Thank you. That is the most meaningful compliment anyone has paid to me.”
The corridor wall rippled, a door appeared, and then a demiforma dragon spilled into the passage. He spotted the priestess, bowed his head, and fled in the opposite direction. While her more casual dress and relaxed manner had made her more approachable to him, it hadn’t changed her effect on others. Everywhere they’d gone, she’d gotten the same reaction. The haste to get away from her would have been comical, if it hadn’t been so hurtful. The most revered dragon in the galaxy was a pariah.
“Is that a launch bay?” He diverted attention from the egregious snub. Before the wall had resealed, he’d caught a glimpse of a cavernous hangar.
“No, it’s a flex chamber.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a space where one can shift. The longer a dragon stays in demiforma, the greater the urge to shift becomes. If he doesn’t release the dragon, the shift will occur spontaneously. On a spacecraft, that would be dangerous.”
He got a mental picture of a dragon bursting out of its own skin, like biscuits popping from a can. “They couldn’t blow out the hull, could they?”
“On a vessel this size? No. But inner walls? Yes. And on a smaller ship, a dragon could blow out the outer hull. So passengers and crew are required to use a flex chamber on spaceflights, the frequency of shifts determined by the length of the journey.”
“Can I peek inside?” he asked.
“There’s nothing to see. An empty flex chamber isn’t very exciting.”
“Would you prefer I see one with a dragon inside?”
She laughed and shrugged. “Okay. If you want.”
The wall melted into an entry, and they stepped into an empty space surrounded by solid gray-green walls, floor, and a ceiling inset with lights. There was nothing to see—except for the sheer vastness of the hangar-like chamber.
“There’s not enough space to fly,” she explained. “But it allows us to fully extend our wings, stretch our necks.”
He’d seen many dragons—but never her dragon. “Will you show me your dragoness?” he asked.
Chapter Seven
Yesss! Let us show him. I would like to meet him. The dragoness chortled with glee.
“That is not a good idea,” O’ne vetoed his request.
It is a perrrfect idea!
Pressure ballooned in her chest. Her hands and feet tingled as talons began to extend. Her bones ached as her spine and neck rippled, preparing to elongate. The dragoness was gaining control and was forcing a shift.
“We need to leave! Now!” Grabbing H’ry’s arm, she dragged him out of the flex chamber into the passageway.
A roar of rage echoed inside her head.
Pressure, pressure. So much pressure. Pain stabbed through her skin from the inside out. You cannot shift here! Stop it! You will kill us both. O’ne tucked her hands in her skirt as talons burst from her fingertips.
In silence, she battled with her alter ego as H’ry stared, and the reality of her life crashed down upon her again. She had been foolish to seek him out, to believe she could have one normal day. She was not normal. She was the priestess, the guardian of the future, the vessel for millions of lives, and now, the keeper of a bitter, angry dragoness.
She could duck into the flex chamber, shift, and let the dragoness vent her ire. The chamber would contain her; H’ry would be safe. However, her submission would empower the dragoness and make it that much harder to control her in the future.
Rather than move away, he touched her elbow, sending waves of heat up her arm. She was burning up. Her chest hurt. Her bones vibrated. “Are you all right?” He peered at her, concern etched on his handsome human face.
Weak, pathetic human! He is what you desire? the dragoness thundered.
“You don’t look so good. Are you all right?” he repeated. “Do you need to sit down?”
She didn’t dare speak for fear of what would come out of her mouth—like flames. She answered with what she hoped was a reassuring nod and dug deep for willpower.
Steeling her aching spine, she snarled, You would shift in the passageway and kill us and the millions of lives we carry? That is what you desire? A dragon could snap its own neck by shifting in a too-small space.
The dragoness roared but then slunk away into the shadows. Pressure receded. Talons retracted. Her heart pounded. Disaster had been averted but barely.
She backed away. “I’m sorry. I can’t continue with the tour.”
“What’s going on? What happened?”
She shook her head. “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“You promised me two days.” An accusing scent of hurt and confusion wafted off him, matching his glower.
“It wasn’t a promise I had a right to make.” Heartsick, her chest burning, she rushed away in a swirl of skirt. Two days might well have been a thousand years, ten thousand years. She hadn’t committed to an eternity of service but an eternity of servitude, of self-abasement. And now she had an enraged dragoness to contain. All she’d desired was two days for herself. Two days to forget. Two days to live.
Her long-neglected fyre flashed and ignited a tinder of suppressed resentment of sacrifice upon sacrifice. She halted her flight and curled her hands into fists. She would not be denied her two days.
