“The royals were waiting for us?” he pressed.
“Aye, sir. It’s –”
“Call me Dragon. Not sir.”
“Uh … Dragon?”
“Dragon by name, Dragon by nature.” He shrugged massively. “It’s complicated. Family affair, you see.”
“I see, s … uh, Dragon.”
And with that, the soldier trotted on with his detail. There might have been a couple of sighs of relief, which he ignored.
“Onward and upward, Princess,” he grinned, displaying a few fangs.
She said, “Hmm, do you know what, Dragon? Your breath has a certain salty freshness about it now. Rather bracing. If nothing else, that goes to prove the changes inside of you.”
He stretched as luxuriously as his bone-weary body would allow, and … crackled. From head to toe, he snapped and popped like fat spitting in a saucepan. They both started and stared at one another. Changes? Another stretch did not produce half as a worrying a sound. Still, his scales felt odd, almost furry underneath, for want of a better word.
Truly terrifying for a reptilian creature!
“I’m not sure that was a good sound,” Azania observed, sounding about as happy as the sagging, heavily damaged outer doors of her home citadel.
“The electrical charge didn’t affect you earlier?” he asked.
“When you started your electrolysis process by trying to frazzle everything in sight? No.”
“I’m sorry if that scared you. Would you like to ride in my paws again so that you can keep your leg raised?”
“Sounds good. I’m not sure I’m going to be walking anywhere during the ceremony. Or standing.”
“I’ve got you covered, Princess. Let’s go scare the new King.”
“Dragon!”
“Aye?”
“I like you, do you know that?”
Kicking up into the air, he eyed the bundle in his forepaws with great suspicion. Azania pretended complete innocence, but he was not fooled. Schemes and mischief practically oozed out of her pores. All that remained for him was to find out what she intended.
Who was the Dragon? He would sniff it out.
Chapter 2: Princess Power
THE KINGDOM OF T’NAGRU had never seen a coronation to compare, one attended by a Dragon carrying in paw a Princess of the realm who stole the show with her truly fantastical golden attire. He was not even sure it counted for a dress. More like stiff, layered golden armour. Had he any doubt about the state of the kingdom’s treasury, the weight of jewels and finery he clasped certainly made an eloquent statement, for starters.
A starter for a Dragon’s gold hunger would be another way of putting it.
Humans might drool over such riches. A noble beast of the air panted so loudly that the Princess told him to breathe more quietly. Rasping throat. He needed something to soothe this infernal itching. Maybe a draught of cool peppermint tea?
He’d be smelling like a walking bouquet soon.
When should he begin negotiations with the new King over his sister’s ransom? Gnarr-harr-haaa!
Still, with all the speechmaking and ceremonial nonsense occupying the Dragon’s portion of the afternoon, he was thoroughly bored by the time King N’chala finally finished receiving the fealty of all of his subjects – with one notable exception, to wit, the exceptional exception in his paw. Intriguing, he thought, meeting the King’s gaze across the chamber. Dragon arched his brow suggestively.
Extending his scent senses, he sniffed out the new King’s cold sweat.
Ah, his day had just improved a hundredfold.
The Princess said, “Could you help me please, Dragon? I don’t think I could limp over to the throne if I tried, but I really ought to congratulate my brother, and say my vows. He is my King, after all.”
“Which of these nobles should I squash first?”
“I’m sure N’chala will appreciate that service another day,” she said testily, “but for now, let’s try to behave ourselves. Somewhat.”
“I like you too, Princess, do you know that?”
“Ah, but for how long, Dragon?”
“You are not a bauble to be set aside on a whim.”
Suddenly, she trembled in his grasp. “Don’t make me cry, friend.”
With a polite basso rumble, he cleared a path as if by magic. Then, the massive yet subtle tread of a Dragon conveyed the Princess up to her brother’s throne. Dominating the space, he was able to stare down at the King even though the gorgeously carved throne stood upon a platform at the end of the hall, surrounded by all the magnificent finery of a proud and ancient desert kingdom. Given a less fraught time, Dragon decided, he would have loved to bring his easel in here and set up for a long, satisfying session of painting. The fluted arches, delicate frescoes and screens, and gold-leaf decorated treasure chests certainly created a most royal space.
As Azania spoke, he returned his attention to her.
“Brother, I wish to congratulate you upon your ascension to the throne of T’nagru, despite the grief and difficulty our kingdom faces at this time.”
He inclined his head, weighted down with the great crown – it looked terribly uncomfortable, Dragon decided. A statement regarding the weighty nature of leadership. Everyone knew that this Skartun siege had only been a precursor to a much greater invasion later in the season. One Jabiz out of thirty had tested their mettle, and breached the outer gates of the citadel with a monstrous Bloodworm which still lay on the sand outside the gates.
Did flesh rot in such a waterless desert climate? Or would it simply shrivel?
Unexpected thirst tickled his gravelly throat. He coughed aside, the sound echoing loudly despite the large crowd gathered for the King’s coronation event.
The Princess said, “I am sorry that I cannot make the formal genuflections, but my
