He slowly drifted into consciousness when he felt morning sunlight brush his eyelids. Morning so soon? He snorted, mockingly indignant that the sun would think to rise this early and disturb his sleep. Ah, well! Who needed more than a few hours of rest anyway? He opened his eyes and blinked several times to awaken his drowsy mind. Then he parted his massive jaw and yawned, revealing a mouthful of dangerously sharp incisors to any who dared to look.

And now, he considered, feeling something pull his hair as he shifted his body slightly, it was time to comb his mane. It felt as if a branch had gotten tangled in it. He lifted his head to peer down at his tail which he wrapped around his body when he slept.

No. He hadn’t caught his mane on anything. There was something sleeping in it!

Curious as to what manner of creature would dare approach a dragon unannounced and then presume to take refuge by his side while he slept, he outstretched his neck to inspect it. A human girl-child? He had unknowingly played nurse-maid to a little girl? Where had she come from? He sniffed her, wondering whether she was old enough to speak intelligibly when she awoke. Had she known what he was in last night’s darkness or had she merely fallen asleep, mistaking his tail for a soft plant of some sort?

Hmmm. This day was already beginning to be rather interesting. Perhaps he wouldn’t begrudge the sun for awakening him this morning.

He gently nosed the girl, breathing his hot breath on her face to coax her into consciousness. The chance that she had slept next to him knowing that he was a dragon was very slim so he had no desire to frighten the poor creature. Well-dressed weanling that she was, he doubted that she had very much experience in the forest and thus had very little experience with animals of any sort, sentient though they may be.

He smiled ruefully at this mental description of himself. Sentient animal. What would that make a human then? Sentient bug? He chuckled to himself, even though he had no inborn malice toward humanity, as he knew many of his cousins possessed. He liked humans. And he even liked children, mane-pulling fiends that they were. So now, finding himself in the possession of a girl, he nudged her again with the soft, almost fuzzy scales of his nose rather than proceeding to make dinner plans.

 She awoke with a roar of sorts. Her fists splayed out, her mouth spread impossibly wide as she yawned and her eyes popped open. Then she stopped and looked at him.

For a moment, neither dragon nor girl moved, each wondering what the other would do first. The girl stirred first. “Kitty!” she exclaimed and she opened her arms wide to embrace the dragon’s head and began babbling in baby talk. The creature was so taken aback by such a fearless action that he did not begin to search her thoughts for the meaning behind her wordless words for several moments. By then the girl’s infantile mind was already filled with images of her running through the forest alone, images that she had not the vocabulary to explain. While an adult human might have had difficulty deciphering her, it mattered very little to a dragon, whose natural mode of communication was through mental pictures and emotions.

Ah! So she thought him to be a larger version of her golden pet cat. He supposed such an association was within reason, his kind were at times referred to as starcats, though the name had now been all but forgotten. He saw no reason to correct her assumption. She had undoubtedly heard horrific stories about dragons. A mere mention of the word might cause her to panic.

He wrapped his long sinuous tail around her body to keep her still and began to tenderly lick her tear-crusted face clean as she continued to babble on. He listened with only one ear. She had yet to explain how it is she came to be in the forest, much less a description of just what had frightened her so badly that she felt no fear of him, but he didn’t bother directly asking her for that information just yet. It should be enough that the girl knew that she was safe with him. When she was clean, he gave her a snuffily kiss on the forehead and, uncoiling his limbs, scooped her up in his massive taloned hands.

“Claws,” she said solemnly as she pointed to them and she did her best hissing cat impression.

The dragon smiled as he pressed her tiny body against his scaly chest.

“Soft kitty,” she murmured as she rubbed her cheek against him.

The smile on his face lingered as he watched her. Yes, he was soft, as was all of his family. Humans were constantly amazed by this mere fact, as if they expected all dragons to possess dry reptilian scales and a back full of razor-sharp ridges. Not his family though. They had fuzzy scales and soft silky manes that were perfect for cuddling humans. It would not do, after all, to be a protector of mankind and yet be unable to be touched by one.

But humanity had forgotten his family, forgotten their sacrifice for their sake, causing his family to hide from man’s wrath toward all dragonkind. Of course, he had more than sufficient power to eliminate all threats to himself, but the cost would be quite high. It would require the deaths of many, many humans, the deaths of many such children as the one he now held in his arms. Better to hide and be forgotten than to cause innocents to die.

He nuzzled the girl again in simple affection, then placing three limbs on the ground, stretched out his tight muscles as best he could. He even yawned himself, emitting a beautiful plume of crimson flames from his throat. The girl giggled when she saw that, associating the sight with that of the resident bard and his fire-breathing tricks. He ran his massive claws through her baby curls and then lowered himself onto the ground to begin a three-legged backtrack of her flight.

Minutes passed. He was just considering just how far a young girl could conceivably run alone and in the dark when he came across wolf tracks. He sniffed them suspiciously. Sure enough, his thoughts were confirmed. They had been tracking the girl. They had split up and had been prepared to encircle her when she had stumbled upon him. The wolves, wisely deciding to let a sleeping dragon lie, had immediately abandoned their prey when they saw that, between a wild “kitty” and a pack full of wolves, the girl was more than willing to bet on generosity of the former. He, sensing no danger from either a pack of wolves or a little girl, had continued to sleep when she had snuggled next to him, first for safety, but then for warmth. He nuzzled her again and quietly bespoke her, telling her what a brave and intelligent girl she was for finding and then staying with him during the dark. She giggled at the compliment.

He continued backtracking for several minutes, pausing here and there when his size was too great to slip through a narrow pass, causing him to encircle the area and then hunt for her trail again. Finally he heard a faint voice, calling out a name, the distance making it unintelligible. He walked toward the voice until he could make out a name.

“Aurora?”  he whispered quietly to the girl. “Is that you?”

She nodded, wide-eyed that her kitty could speak aloud.

He continued staring at the girl, forcing her to maintain eye contact. No mere human could break away from a dragon’s stare. A little girl was no exception. His green eyes continued boring into hers as the rest of his body emitted a soft golden light. His eyes flickered away, gazing toward the approaching call of many humans.

“K-kitty?” Aurora tentatively said.

He looked down at the girl still nestled against him, albeit his now human arms. He smiled reassuringly at her. “Yes, little one,” he said simply and lightly stroked her curls with his free hand.

She looked at him and blinked, too shocked to say anything at first. Then she was jostled back into reality when he hoisted her a bit higher and began walking toward the ones searching for her. She began to babble as she had been previously doing, taking no more consideration that her kitty was now a human.

Traveling through this part of the forest was much easier for him this way, walking two-limbed rather than three, but her weight, slight though it was, was much more prone to throw him off balance as he traversed dangerous fallen tree limbs since he now lacked a balancing tail. The sacrifices that were made for humanity, he mused to himself.

What he would give for the opportunity to land in the midst of these humans while bearing this particular burden! But that would be foolishness; undoubtedly they would assume that he meant to eat her, the logic behind such a thought when he would be returning her, quite alive, to her nesting place was escaping him at this point. Then they would began assaulting him with all manners of crude weapons, resulting in either his fierce retaliation or in the child’s injury.

He was sighing again over the fallacies of humanity and of his distant relations, the cause of such prejudice, when the girl, Aurora, he firmly told himself, shrieked out, “Auntie!” Being able to hear the calls himself, he had been ignorant in recognizing the distance from which a human would be able to hear them and thus had been unprepared for the shriek in his ear.

He sighed again. At least he knew that he wouldn’t be returning her to child-thieves.

“Aurora?” The voice called out again, doubtfully hopeful.

“Auntie!” she shrieked again, but this time he was prepared and held her away from his ear. She began squirming in his arms, wanting to be let down, but he silenced her whining with a thought. “I’ve brought you this far,” he told her quite severely. “Do you want me to now see you get hurt on those sharp sticks?”

“No, kitty,” she said shame-faced.

The man-who-was-a-dragon snorted as he approached the nearing voice of her aunt.

“Aurora? Where are you, honey?”

He broke through a particularly thick mass of brush into a small clearing of sorts where he observed a small group of humans evidently searching for signs of this wayward soul he held. “She is right here,” he stated firmly but quietly, watching as everyone whirled around in surprise at his sudden appearance. He carefully set her down and then watched her as she streaked a few steps away to one particular person, a lady dressed in riding leathers with golden skin and long black curls haphazardly caught up in a pony tail. Her aunt bent down and tightly embraced her with a mother’s ferocity, murmuring all manners of words in her ear and then reluctantly pulled away to stare at him. She crossed the short distance between them in a few steps and then caught him in an equally fierce embrace.

He was so startled that at first he instinctively moved to nuzzle her neck, but recognizing this as inappropriate behavior for a human, he instead wrapped his arms around her and held her against his body. Mmmm, he thought to himself as he half listened to her gregarious thanks, this human smelled delicious. Perhaps she would enjoy returning to his lair and mating with him.

You are Draconian! An indignant thought came out of nowhere. You do not merely copulate; you mate for life!

Indeed, another thought responded.

To this, there was only silence.

He was drawn back from his thoughts when the woman abruptly pulled away from him, hastily wiping tears of gratitude from her face with the palms of her hands. “Come; my father will want to meet you.” Without another word, she grabbed his wrist, and Aurora’s, and began dragging them both toward the sound of more humans calling for the lost girl.

“I have her!” she happily called to anyone within hearing. Within moments there were echoes of ‘she’s been found, return to camp!’ throughout the forest. They stumbled into a chaotic campsite within a short time. A good deal of the supplies had been destroyed and trampled on, the other half was being sorted and loaded onto carts and horses.

A man with a substantial gut, dressed in fine clothes appeared to be the leader of this particular rabble. He immediately greeted the woman and Aurora with nothing short of pure joy on his face. “Aria! My precious Aurora! You’ve found her!” And he embraced them both.

“No, Papa,” the Lady Aria said, “This man brought her to us!” She motioned toward him.

He secretly wished that he dared to transform at this point, simply to see the expression on their faces when they realized that a dragon had returned a child intact, but it was too late; they had seen his face. He would be recognized should the occasion warrant his return to these lands. The reputation of his family’s name was now at stake. “My lord,” he bowed extravagantly. “I can hardly take credit for your granddaughter’s cunning. It is she who found me.”

“Is this true, Aurora?” her grandfather asked her in astonishment.

She nodded and began to tell in baby talk of her adventures. Only a few words were intelligible to mere humans unable to seek her mind for the mental images behind them. “Bad doggies” “run” “kitty” “warm” and “sleep.” Her grandfather gravely listened to her, nodding when appropriate. When she finished, he shifted his grave expression to him, eyebrow raised in a silent request for sensible delineation.

“Your granddaughter was apparently being chased by wolves, milord.” There was a collective gasp from the growing audience surrounding them, but he continued, “I found evidence of their chase when I was backtracking here. She caught sight of my campfire in the darkness and sought refuge by my side, though I was bone-weary because of my travels and continued to sleep as the dead and did not discover her presence until I awoke this morning. The wolves wisely decided to abandon their hunt and sought easier prey. So you see, milord, I can hardly take credit for the child’s good sense.”

“That true, Aurora?” her grandfather said gruffly. “You ran to this man’s side?”

“Kitty!” she exclaimed and at once outstretched her arms and leaned precariously away from her grandfather in an attempt to reach him.

He rescued the girl from an imminent meeting with the hard ground. “Kitty,” she murmured in complacency and buried her face in his neck. He remained completely unperturbed by her actions but he immediately saw from the spectators’ expressions that it would require some form of explanation. Well, he could transform, he thought offhandedly. “She has a pet cat?” he saying the statement so that it would appear to be a question. He glanced at her aunt’s face for confirmation.

Aria nodded almost imperceptively and said, “Goldie.” Then she grinned and said, “Yes, I suppose your hair is the same color as Goldie’s fur.”

The lord of the household cleared his throat and stated magnanimously, “You may not have found her, but you nevertheless escorted her back to safety in addition to inadvertently saving her from a most cruel ending. To whom do I owe the debt of my granddaughter’s safe return?”

“Damian Mondraconian, milord Godfry,” he answered with an elegant incline of his head, being hindered by his present burden from performing a full bow. Humans thought such sign of obeisance to be necessary. It was a nuisance and he was secretly thankful that he held Aurora in his arms, having already properly bowed once.

“Mondraconian!” Lord Godfry bellowed. “Lad, we’ve not seen a Mondraconian in years!” He good-naturedly clapped his back.

“That is because, milord,” Damian said with a slight smile. “We have had no need to ever enter your fair domain. My grandsire often noted that Hell would freeze and Heaven would rot before injustice could ever be found within the borders of Whitestone.”

At that faithfully recounted compliment, Lord Godfry guffawed and was joined by the excited murmurs of the crowd. “Ian!” he called to a servant. “Ride ahead to the castle. Have a banquet prepared for our return and in honor of our guest, Lord Mondraconian!”

The servant was already out of sight when Godfry turned to him. “You are returning to Whitestone with us, are you not? I shall summon my tenants. You can personally verify your grandfather’s astute observation.”

The corners of Damian’s lips upturned in a wry smile, but he quickly masked it and pretended to consider the matter, though he knew that that social convention had already bound him. “Yes…I believe he also made mention of the beautiful women of the house. I shall have to personally inspect such a claim.” When he heard the Lady Aria’s indignant snort, he added, “The gracious presence of your daughter leaves me with very little thought that I shall be disappointed.”

He shifted the burden in his arms ever so slightly so he could catch the lady’s eye. He smiled kindly at her, hoping that she had not instantly associated him with petty human womanizers because of words meant to impress her father. Strange how he wanted this human’s approval. He could not ignore his first instinctive reaction to her. True, he searched for a mate, but never had a female’s physical presence actually stirred such a longing within his heart. This lady, Aria, he would have to watch. Perhaps he would eventually bring her to his lair.

2: 2

“How is it that your granddaughter was able to slip away, Milord Godfry?” Damien asked as they rode to the keep. Convention being that it was, he had found himself riding one of the best horses in their little excursion and was beside the lord of Whitestone while the Lady Aria, with Aurora seated in front of her, drifted throughout the entourage. His senses monitored her movement. Like it or not, he was now quite familiar with the lady’s scent and so long as the mild breeze continued, he knew where she was.

Lord Godfry snorted. “Cursed wolves. They act as they never once have. Approaching encampments overflowing with humans and fire? Hunting humans as prey? It was if they knew where we kept the most skittish horses! Poor Ninny,” here he nodded toward a nervous wreck of a mare being ridden by one of his men, “She’s never liked dogs, much less wolves. She broke free and scared all the other horses, including the pony that Aurora had been placed upon. Nearly trampled most of the camp before she was finally caught.”

“And Aurora’s pony ran away with her on it,” Damien completed for him.

Godfry nodded. “The pony returned a short while later sans my granddaughter. We were about to give up hope of seeing her alive. It is fortunate that you were in the forest, Mondraconian. I cannot tell you what my granddaughter means to me.”

Damien said nothing. Should Godfry offer a reward he knew what he truly desired, but judging from Godfrey’s reaction when he had reunited with his family, Damien knew that asking for his daughter would be out of the question.

As if summoned, Aria trotted past them both to the head of the column. His daughter…

“The lady is an accomplished horsewoman,” he said matter-of-factly. In fact, he thought privately, she would make quite a good Rider for him. Having to teach a mate to stay on a Draconian’s back wasn’t that easy of a task, his sire had informed him, when the lady couldn’t even stay on a horse.

“Yes,” Godfry beamed, but unable to keep the pride out of his voice, he said, “Aria’s been riding ever since she was a little girl. She has a wonderful touch with animals. She was the one who had placed Aurora on the pony’s back. She was blaming herself, but it wasn’t as if she controlled the wolves.”

His observation confirmed, Damien briefly considered the most diplomatic way to broach the next topic, but realizing that there was nothing that he could do to sugar-coat his words, he asked in the mildest tone possible, “Forgive me, milord, I know you claim her as your daughter, but is she your blood? I can see some resemblances, but…” here he allowed his voice to drift off before he was caught in an outright lie. Aria’s beautiful, golden skin, long black curls and large, intensely black eyes in no way resembled her father’s ruddy skin, brown hair and hazel eyes. Perhaps there was a resemblance in other features, but Damien could not detect any beside the general shape of their noses. Either she truly did favor her mother or…

Godfry was silent for a long moment. Damien wondered if he should have instead picked the information that he desired from the man’s mind, but he had more respect for a person’s thoughts. Besides, his sire had rather sternly informed him that reading a human’s mind merely for convenience was never acceptable except with one’s mate. He was in the process of delving through his own memories for another exception to mind reading when the man finally answered.

“My first marriage, to Aurora’s grandmother, was arranged by our parents. We didn’t love each other; we were far too young and too immature, but we were content with the arrangement. I think I would have eventually grown to love her if the Creator had given me the chance. But instead, He called her to the heavens when she was giving birth to our daughter, Melindre.

“Melindre was just starting to walk, no longer the easy baby to care for, when a caravan passed through the lands. Lelahya was traveling with them. She had come from the Far East to study dragons. She was like nothing I had ever seen before, Mondraconian. So beautiful, so enchanting. She was no less than a Creator-send. No doubt my advisors thought that she had put some charm on me, but I had never before met a more pure, loving soul. I entreated her to stay in Whitestone with me. I told her that I would take her to see dragons, call them myself if I had to. Build them a nest in the upper towers to make them stay, but she refused and left with the caravan.

“Four miserable months later, she returned. She had been to Dragon Country, seen her heart’s desire, dragons, and then, she told me, she realized that her heart’s desire had changed. She returned to Whitestone to be my bride. Aria is our, my child.”

“Your lady, milord,” Damien said quietly, noting his self-correction and that Godfy had made no mention of being able to meet his wife when they arrived. “What came of her?”

“Killed by dragons,” Godfry said thickly.

Damien’s casual posture suddenly changed. “What?” he asked with barely disguised menace toward his cousins, those who would dare murder Aria’s mother. His sword. His right hand drifted behind him so he could feel its familiar shape as it hung from his back. The sword of the Mondraconians. The symbol of both his identity and authority. It was forged, they say, in dragon fire, (which, he, knowing better of course, acknowledged as true) and bore a hilt made of a dragon’s bone. (Actually it was a carved talon of a Draconian. But seeing how his kind technically did not exist to mankind and seeing how a talon and a bone were both ultimately made of the same substances, the description was sufficient.) He had only to display it to any ruler, be it lord of a keep such as Whitestone or the king to whom Whitestone swore allegiance, and his judgment would bind them. After all, what was a mere human, ruler or peasant, in the eyes of them whom dragons obeyed?

“No, lad,” Godfry sadly shook his head. “T’was not truly the fault of any creature or being, save my beloved. Lelahya was tracking a dragon that she had sighted flying over our lands and she fell into a ravine. The creature was kind enough to bring her body back to us. She was quite distraught so I cannot see how she could have purposely caused my wife to die.”

“Do you remember her name? Her color? Any markings that she had?”

Godfry shook his head. “She was green,” was all he said.

“How old was Aria?”

“Happened but three years ago.” He had been slumping in the saddle as he talked about his wife, but suddenly he sat up very straight and eyed him. “Mondraconian,” he paused. “Have you ever seen a black rose before?”

Damien considered and then shook his head.

“Hearing that I have an eligible daughter, I have had many a young man come to my home. Tell me, what makes a red or white rose more beautiful than a black other than it is to what we are accustomed? Too many would be suitors see only the color and do not realize that the rose I offer them is more finely crafted and more richly perfumed by the Creator than any they would find elsewhere.”

Now, more than ever, Damien was careful to keep his voice neutral. His inhuman senses were driving him insane and his companion’s words only served to stoke his fire. There were those who thought Aria to be ugly? Those who had rejected her? He was torn between wanting to claim her himself and wanting to avenge any slight that they may have given her. Instead his family’s honor required that he had to settle for neither. “Those suitors did not deserve her, milord. There are many who would be flattered to be in her presence, much less have her - ” in his lair, he thought, but aloud he said, “at his side.”

“Find him, Mondraconian, for Lelahya’s memory,” Godfry said thickly. “I want my daughter to live a happy life filled with love, not living as some man’s unloved trophy.”

 

“Oh, good, you’re suitably dressed,” Lord Godfry said absently when Aria first entered his study.

“Father!” she indignantly exclaimed. Just because she usually saw no point in spending five hours getting dressed was no reason to suspect that she didn’t see the importance of at least dressing up now. There was a Mondraconian in the house! She would be insane not to at least try to represent the best qualities of her household.

Her father chuckled good-naturedly but instantly sobered. “I want you to take young Mondraconian on a tour of the castle.”

“Me?” Aria gasped. “Why not you? I-”

Her father cut off the rest of her statement with a negligent wave and said with absolutely no form of pretense, “My dear, you are twenty-three years old. Are you going to remain a maid forever?”

“But, Papa, you said yourself, he’s a Mondraconian. What could he possibly see in me?”

Lord Godfry did something then that completely shocked her. He laughed. “Aria, Aria,” he chuckled, “Do you not know what a Mondraconian does?”

“Of course, they wander about the lands, looking for injustice and then they-”

“Precisely, my dear, precisely! They wander the lands and come into contact with all sorts of rich young fellows.”

Never a dim candlestick, Aria blinked as the shock of realization hit her. “Oh.” Then she said slowly so as to make absolute certain that her conclusion was not erroneous, “Then you think that he can be a kind of…matchmaker for me. That he’ll tell everyone he thinks is suitable about me.”

“Exactly, my daughter!” he laughed again and hugged her, cheered by his own intellect and by his offspring’s. “But first,” he said pointing a wagging finger in her face. “You have to impress him.”

“Of course,” Aria said dully.

Lord Godfy hugged his daughter again and then pushed her away so he could inspect her. “Hmmm,” he said frowning. “You didn’t expect me to suggest a liaison between him and you, did you? Because, my dear, he is a Mondraconian. His family lives in dragon country. You would constantly be in peril, even in your own bedroom! He would always be traveling the lands, leaving you to fend for yourself in that wild place. He would make such a poor husband. Yes, you would have the power and prestige of his name, but is it worth the heartache, constantly wondering if he is being unfaithful to you?”

“No, Papa,” she said obediently.

“Good, now go see to your ward. He should be in the guest quarters.”

Aria curtsied to her father and then promptly left. She waited until she was out of hearing distance before sighing deeply to herself. Yes, her father was right. What hope did she have in becoming his wife? Of course he was handsome beyond all reason, but what sort of foundation was that for a relationship? But then she found herself sighing again, no longer over their guest, but because of her father’s statement.

Dragon country. He lived in dragon country. She had always dreamed of seeing a dragon, always dreamed of being able just to touch one, just once. She constantly read about them, constantly bugged the bard for more stories about them and constantly studied them. And now for her father to say such a thing, demonstrating his complete ignorance of one of her passions! He knew she liked reading, but still…

She politely knocked on the guest quarters and plastered on a pleasant smile on her face.

“Enter,” she heard a firm voice say.

She pushed the heavy oak door open.

He was standing in front of an open window, dressed in borrowed finery from her brother-in-law, black and forest-green velvet. He had a large sword strapped to his back, which she thought was rather odd, given he was in his own quarters. Actually, he was leaning outside of the window, supporting his weight on the windowsill, apparently in an attempt to look at something directly below him.

Seeing such a sight, the words were out of her mouth before she was able to realize she was the one saying them. “Are you going to slay a horrific songbird with your sword?”

He pushed himself away from the window and whirled around, his eyes flashing in indignation when they met hers. Then they immediately softened. “My lady,” he inclined his head. “I thought you were being another overly familiar chambermaid, wishing to assist me in dressing.”

“ Another chambermaid?” Aria said indignantly. “Our chambermaids were insulting you?”

He merely shrugged. “I was quite flattered actually. It was rather unfortunate to see the fear in their eyes when I strapped on my sword and then Count Peretti had the good fortune to walk in and address me by my title. But…” he shrugged again as his voice trailed off. “To what do I owe this particular pleasure, milady?”

“My father suggested that I show you the grounds of Whitestone.”

“Did he now?” Lord Mondraconian murmured half to himself. Unexpectedly, he returned to the window and began peering outside again. “Perhaps, my guide, you shall be able to tell me what you know about this particular defect outside my window?”

Aria quickly attempted to mentally collect her historical notes about the castle. It had been a while since anyone had been interested enough to ask. To buy herself some time and to be absolutely certain that this was the mark in question, she strode to the window and peered outside. Five deep grooves and a large scorch mark, stared back at her on an otherwise pristine surface. “If memory serves, our tradition says the castle was once attacked by a dragon. It destroyed this entire window and carried off its only occupant in its claws. The lord of the keep at that time raised an army to hunt and kill the creature for violating the sanctity of hospitality, but he was barely one week from Whitestone when a Mondraconian met him and told him that his once guest was a fugitive from the law, a convicted murderer. The enraged dragon that had attacked this place had done so out of love for one who had been slain. Your ancestor, on behalf of the dragon, begged for the lord’s forgiveness and asked for his understanding in such a matter. So pacified, the lord returned to Whitestone and had his former army repair the damage done to the castle, leaving those marks you see there as a reminder to future generations that while appearances truly can be deceiving, justice will always prevail here.”

He peered at Aria from the corner of his eyes. “How is it the Mondraconian knew what the dragon had done?” he asked.

“I don’t know, my lord,” she smiled slightly. “I would think that you would know.”

But he said nothing, gazing at the marks left in stone. Then, his eyes glazed and he spoke slowly, in a voice not quite his own. “She was a child, a twelve-year-old girl. She used to braid wildflowers in his hair, one of the few humans to ever fearless approach a dragon with nothing but love in her heart and the dragon fiercely returned her love. She was an innkeeper’s daughter. She was helping to serve drinks to the patrons in the taproom and she spilled beer on the man’s lap. He broke her neck. She died before her body even hit the floor.

“There were witnesses, so the dragon was content with a public execution, but then the man bribed someone to poison the guard and escaped to Whitestone, knowing that with its virtuous reputation, a Mondraconian would never think that its walls harbored such as he. He did not consider that a vengeful dragon knows no boundaries, only his lust for blood.” His eyes had a particular light in them, as if he were envisioning his words.

Aria listened to him in utter fascination, knowing better than to interrupt and ask questions, but nevertheless dying to do so. She had heard that Mondraconians had strange powers, but what exactly was happening?

The story ended, he blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, apparently surprised by what had happened, but not flustered. “It is one of my family’s gifts.”

“To see things in the past?” she questioned when he did not delineate.

“No,” he smiled. “To remember.” He hesitated a moment and then lowered his eyes and said, “Even those things that do not happen in our own lifetime.” He locked his gaze on her again and said, “Supposedly, it is to aid us in our judgments.”

Aria looked away, to inspect the marks as she never quite had before. “The dragon attacked Whitestone because of a little tavern girl? Knowing that an army would then hunt him?”

Lord Mondraconian was quiet for a moment and then asked in a low voice, “Is that so hard to believe, milady?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I was merely marveling at the strength of his love.”

“Dragons are passionate creatures,” he whispered.

He spoke as if he knew that for a fact so she found herself intently studying his somber face. “Have you ever met one, milord?”

He smiled gently and said, “I live in dragon country, how could I not?”

She wanted to state that she wanted to meet one too, one day, but somehow that seemed slightly inappropriate. That was something she could share with her chambermaid, not this man here, a Mondraconian. Instead, she sought a way to mention a tour again. “Perhaps you would care to see if our domain is half as fair as Dragonkeep, milord?” she asked with a slightly self-mocking smile.

“I would be honored, milady,” he bowed and motioned that she lead the way from his quarters.

They exited the room and then she asked, “What would you like to see first?”

“The kitchen, I suppose,” he said. “I find I am more than a little hungry.”

Aria gasped at this revelation. “Then I shall ask the servants to bring you whatever sustenance that you wish! I apologize, milord! I had no idea that our servants were so neglectful in their duty. I shall address this matter at once!”

She was about to do so, but he placed a familiar hand on her upper arm. “You needn’t for my sake,” he said mildly. “They asked me, and in my rush to finally bathe, I refused.”

She was unsure just what to make about this admission and was contemplating an appropriate response when he burst out laughing. “What?” she immediately and indignantly demanded.

He paused so he could turn her toward him. “You’re being so serious. I’ve encountered women who’ve tittered uncontrollably around me, but never one who was so consumed about her duty.” His brow knitted together and he tilted his head as he studied her. “You’re not even trying to impress me and yet I know you are attempting to fulfill a duty of some sort.”

She started to mouth a few denials, but was cut short when his eyes darkened. “I am a Mondraconian, milady. I can know your very thoughts, but I am too much a gentleman to intrude. However, I do know when you speak the truth; do not lie to me,” he ended in a hiss.

Stuck in such a predicament, what could she do but tell the truth? In a voice hardly above a whisper, she addressed a rather shiny button on his doublet. “Father and I thought you could commend me to an appropriate suitor.”

His entire demeanor changed. “You mean play matchmaker?” he asked in disbelief.

Hearing those words from his lips caused her to freeze as her face reddened, but she eventually nodded.

There was silence for a few moments but then he bowed to her. “My apologies, my lady. I misinterpreted your actions. You should not seek to entertain people that you mean to impress when your inner thoughts are in such turmoil.”

Aria could only gaze at him in utter amazement.

“Of course,” he amended after a thought, “I suppose it wouldn’t even matter for most people. I, however, picked up on your double mindedness.” He laughed and said, “I thought you were planning some sinister plot for me. I apologize again, milady. Time has made me rather paranoid in matters where beautiful, unmarried women are concerned.”

She blushed, but then lashed out. “Well, you could have just asked what was bothering me!”

“I stand corrected,” he said contritely. “Despite my poor judgment, can we at least be friends?”

“Friends?” she echoed.

He nodded.

“I guess,” she said dubiously.

“Good. You may call me by my name: Damian.” He gazed intently into her eyes as he spoke and then waited for her response.

Slightly uneasy by the seriousness he had imported such a simple statement, she nevertheless repeated his name once, and then said to him, “You can call me by my name too. It’s Aria.”

“Aria,” he repeated the name with much relish. He smiled and motioned before him. “May I escort you to the kitchen, Aria?”

She looked at his eyes, saw the silent amusement in them and, laughing herself, led him to the kitchen.

 

Though he continued to make small talk with her as they proceeded through the halls, most of his thoughts revolved around what he had just done. He had given Aria his name. Not simply told her his name. Given it to her. Granted her permission to summon him with a few syllables. Summon him no matter no matter where he was or what form he was in. Whatever had possessed him to do that? And yet, he could honestly say that he had no regrets. Let her summon him when he was in dragon form. Let her see what he truly was! But another half worried that such a revelation would forever impair their friendship. He found himself liking her. He half considered asking for permission to mate with her, but he knew her father would refuse. Humans did not choose mates so quickly, certainly not the very day that they first meet. He would have to proceed slowly, as slowly as a human. He was dragon. He would be patient and then, he turned to gaze at her beautiful silhouette and found his heart leaping at the mere thought of mating with such a Creatorsend.