by Jo Beverley
Rozlinda surprised herself by laughing, hiding her face against her knees. “I’m imagining Aurora’s face if she finds out mother stone comes from dung.”
Laughter threatened to turn into tears, however, so she sobered and faced him. “It has to be, Ro. For the dragons, for your people, and for mine. Without mother stone, you see, every child of a woman of the Blood would die in the womb.”
“Not in your lifetime. The stone won’t run out for generations.”
“How could I bear children, knowing daughters or granddaughters would face that? And dragons are special. They must not die out.”
He covered his face with his hands.
She turned to the dragon. “There is no other way for you to have eggs, Seesee?”
Need princess blood. Lots.
Rozlinda saw a young woman sprawled on Dragon’s Rock, gushing blood in a way that had to be fatal. She knew Ro saw it, too. They sat there, a silent trio as the sun slid flaming behind hills, and evening softened colors with mist.
Desire stirred again, powerful enough to blank out even fear. Rozlinda reached to touch Ro, but then halted. No. But surely there was something they could do.
“Seesee, how much of a virgin do I have to be?”
No eggs.
“I don’t have any eggs?” Rozlinda asked, bewildered.
No babies.
“I can’t have had a baby? Well, then . . .”
Not start baby. Changes blood. But babies nice.
“You’re not eating my babies.” Rozlinda meant it as a dark joke, and she’d swear the dragon laughed.
Ro surged to his feet. “You’re both monsters. She’s bad enough, but you!”
“Which she, which you?” Rozlinda asked, looking up, surprised by how much she simply delighted in him.
“We’re returning you to your castle.”
Night coming.
“You can fly in the dark.”
Need to eat.
The dragon heaved to her feet, waddled away and did her roaring leap into flight.
“How does she do that?”
“Internal gases. A giant fart.”
Rozlinda burst into laughter.
Ro scowled. “She left to thwart me!”
“I can’t imagine how you’ll force her to take me back to the castle if she doesn’t want to.”
“We can walk.”
“I’m a princess. It’s beyond me.”
“I’ll carry you.”
“Ro, I saw a vision of you, just before we realized a dragon had come.”
“A vision?”
“You on the road. I don’t think an SVP ever saw a vision before, so it means something. It means I’m different. I’d rather not be different in this way, but if I’m chosen to save the world, I must follow my Princess Way.”
“Your Princess Way should have you back in your castle, doing whatever should come next.”
“Marriage, but I’m married.”
“There has to be a way out of that.”
“If we both agree. I don’t. If you take me back, I’ll come after you. I’ll walk.”
“You’re a princess. It’s beyond you.”
She rose and kissed him. “I’m a princess. Nothing is beyond me. I’ll climb the Shield if I must. I will complete my journey.”
He held her off with a bruising grip. “To death?”
“Everyone’s journey is to death.”
“I will die with you, then.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It is my journey.”
“Then love me. I don’t want to end my journey without knowing love.”
He tore free. “Don’t! Don’t you realize how much I want to take your virginity and make you safe?”
“But you heard Seesee. I only don’t have to be pregnant.”
“Same thing.”
“Not if you’ll give me some of the stones from your buckle.” He looked down at the tiny dragon eyes. “Why?”
“They prevent pregnancy.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“Perhaps it only works on Princesses of the Blood, but it works. Three stones and I’m safe till my next flowers. Well?”
“It’s nonsense.”
“Trust me.”
He looked from her to his buckle, then unfastened it. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He pulled out his knife to prize stones free, nicking his hand because he was shaking. He stared at her as he sucked blood, and then he worked out more and poured them into her hand. Six of them.
“Better safe than sorry,” she agreed, tossing them into her mouth and swallowing.
“How long till they work?”
“Almost immediately.” She rubbed her hands, which longed to touch him, then held herself because she burned to be held. “Poor Aurora.”
“Aurora, murderer of dragons?”
“I know, but we complained because she kept having babies when the mother stone was running out. But no dragon eyes came after her sacrifice. She had none to share with others, so she could hardly ask others to share with her. She has to have some sense of guilt.”
“You have a forgiving nature.”
“I must. You must. Everyone must.” She looked at him soberly. “Your people are going to have to forgive mine for Cheelus. Mine must forgive yours for me. It will be hard. In fact, I need to write about this, about my willingness. Make sure I have time for that. Before.”
He grasped her tense hands. “You are a remarkable woman, Rozlinda of Saragond.”
She found a smile. “Seven years’ training must be good for something. Love me, Ro.”
“We’re safe?”
“Yes. I promise.”
He drew her into his arms and held her. It was tender for a moment, but another rhythm thrummed beneath, transmuting tenderness to hunger. And now the dragon was returning, beating wings, beating heart, beating need as great as theirs.
They kissed as Seesee circled and landed, her excitement wiping away any hope of control. They tore off clothes till skin slid against skin. Then they were on the dragon, beneath the wing, spiced with dragon smell, one with Seesee in mind and, it felt, in flesh as Ro thrust deep into Rozlinda again and again, and three minds spiraled in flight, then plunged deep into ferocious fire.
Gasping, running with sweat, Rozlinda heard a purred, Good loving.
“A dragon,” she said, laughing, “is a queen of understatement.” She inhaled perfume of man, woman and dragon, loving the hot weight of Ro still sprawled over her and the dragon heartbeat deep below. “Do all the Dornae do it this way?”
“Only dragoners.” He moved off her, gathering her into his strong arms. “The dragons do the mind thing a bit with others if they’re nearby, but this is special.”
“Very. Very, very.”
Sadness threatened, that this would all end tomorrow. She pushed it away and explored every inch of this wonderful man. She played with his long, lovely hair, with his wire-bound plaits and gold-bound arms. She straddled his dark, muscle-hard torso. So hot, hot, hot. She kissed, tongued and tasted while he did the same, the dragon yum, yum, yumming along with them.
Dragon madness plunged them together again, pounded them together again to explode into a million, brilliant stars.
“More,” Rozlinda said when she had breath. “More!”
“For pity’s sake.”
She slid her hand over him and found him limp. “Poor dear. You need food. Seesee, did you bring food?”
Somewhere. The dragon sounded exhausted, too, but happily so.
Rozlinda giggled. She rose naked, stretching out to embrace the starry night, and then ran lightly down to earth. It was too dark to see bags or food.
“Can you breathe fire, Seesee?”
/> Only heat, and not even that right now.
Rozlinda giggled again as she groped around for Ro’s pack. She dug into it, looking for his flame maker. He joined her and found it. Flame sprang up and they looked at each other, naked in its golden light. And smiled. And kissed.
He shut it off. “It won’t last forever.”
“We need a fire, then.”
“Not much wood nearby as I remember. And no water.”
“Improvident man.”
“Are you willing to try a new dragoner experience?”
“Anything!”
She saw his smile as he lit the flame and used it to find the lump of meat Seesee had brought—and dropped. He wiped it on his tunic. Rozlinda remembered once being bothered by things like that.
She was chilly, however, so she climbed back onto Seesee and snuggled beneath the wing, waiting for whatever wonderful new experience her Dornaan husband would bring.
She would not be sad. How many people had a night like this? She was on a dragon, bathed in starlight, soon to make stupendous love again to the most wonderful man in the world. If this was all she ever had, it would be riches beyond dreams.
Eventually, he joined her with something on plates. Mushy lumps on plates.
She sat up. “Do I want to know?”
“Try it.”
“I don’t want to know, do I?”
He scooped some mush on his finger and held it out to her. “It’s a prized delicacy.”
She sniffed and caught the sweet spice of drool, but smelled blood underneath. “I knew I didn’t want to know.”
When he put it to her mouth, however, she sucked in a bit. And groaned. “Oh, my stars . . .”
He ate some himself, a noise deep in his throat. “Good, isn’t it?”
Rozlinda grabbed her plate and scooped up more. The sweet, spicy taste burst intensely on her tongue. “I don’t know why you’d ever eat anything else,” she mumbled as she chewed and swallowed.
“Not healthy,” he mumbled back, “only eating meat, even dragon chew.”
That image made her hesitate for a moment, but it couldn’t keep her from shoving more into her mouth, more and more, until it was gone.
Ro scooped up the last of his. “Remember that we only have small animals. Meat is a luxury. We eat chew only on very special occasions.”
Rozlinda licked her plate to gather any remaining bits. “Then it’s exactly right for now.” She put aside the clean plate and licked her fingers as meticulously as a cat.
He captured her hand and began to clean it with his tongue.
“Not fair!” So she did the same to him.
They licked farther and then shared a spicy kiss, rolling together into soaring, drool-fired, dragon-sung sex. Exhaustion overwhelmed them eventually, however, and they woke to the gray light and dewy damp of dawn. And to reality. They lay in each other’s arms in silence. Seesee was silent, too. Rozlinda couldn’t stop thinking, trying to find an escape.
“Isn’t it a stupid system, to have only one fertile queen in a generation?”
“Yes, but it was their sacrifice long, long ago.”
“Explain.”
He stroked her hair, her shoulder. “Remember the animals, the food which led to too many dragons? It was a disaster for them as well as for people. They were eating too much dragon rock, and without that they can’t make eggs. So they changed so they could have egg season only once every eight years, and the Dornae stopped keeping large animals. That worked for a long time, but the time came when they’d eaten the dragon rock down to the crater we now call the Dragon’s Womb. That was when they began to fly over the Shield to seek the rock, which they found. But they also found unlimited blood, and the problem started all over again.”
“Hence the Dragon Wars?” she guessed.
“Not immediately. The Dornae bribed the Saragondans with dragon eyes and hralla and sent a dragoner with each queen to control her appetite. Then Dorn ran out of the special blood, too.”
“That’s what happens when you eat all the carriers before they can have babies.”
“Exactly. But the dragons sensed a new source—the royal family of Saragond.”
“Why should that be? Your people and mine are completely different.”
He pulled a face. “Actually, we’re not. We’re both descended from the rival twin princes, Lorien and Ulien.”
“Because Lorien fled over the Shield. Our records say he and his followers perished.”
“Whereas ours tell that he survived, and after some trials, prospered.”
“How strange. But you are so different.”
“Only the dragoners, and that’s something to do with living with the dragons.”
“Will I . . .” But she stopped her question. She wouldn’t develop the same coloring, because she would soon die.
“So the dragons found the rock and the Virgin blood, and the Dornae controlled the feeding. . . . But we still have the Dragon Wars. The cause was supposed to be the way the dragons consumed good farm animals.”
“It was. Despite all efforts, the dragon numbers were growing. And then there were the princesses. Your people weren’t happy about that, either. So they decided to put a stop to it.”
Terrible time. People not happy. Dragons not happy.
“It soon came to truce. To make sure there would never be war again, the dragons agreed that only one dragon in a generation would queen, so that few animals would be eaten and only a little princess blood would be required.”
“One dragon flies to Saragond to eat,” Rozlinda said, “then lays many eggs? How does she care for them all?”
A sense of humorous alarm came from Seesee.
“She doesn’t. Her sisters each take one. Dragons complete the eggs in a pouch. This time. . . if we do this, Cheelus’s sisters will raise the eggs.”
They will be very happy.
“Because they never had eggs to raise,” Rozlinda said, realizing. “Couldn’t one of them have become queen instead of Seesee?”
“Apparently, to queen out of egg year, a dragon has to have queened before, and Seesee is the youngest. Unfortunately, to do it, she needs a lot of Virgin blood.”
The picture of the bleeding princess on the rock returned to Rozlinda’s mind, and it wasn’t Seesee’s doing. “So be it, but”—she buried her face in Ro’s chest—“with plenty of hralla, please.”
Head close to hers, he said, “With all the hralla you want, brave beloved one.”
“Am I? Beloved? Don’t lie to me.”
“Beautifully brave, endlessly beloved. I will join you in the next life. Believe that.”
She moved back to look into his amber eyes. “I don’t want that. Please live and enjoy dragon babies.”
But she couldn’t help thinking of their babies, which would never be born. Dark-skinned, pale-haired, beautiful babies.
She suddenly saw a vision that must be from Seesee. A plump, round egg being tucked into a pouch between the dragon’s front legs. She understood then that the host dragon fertilized it in some way. Then she saw the hatchling, all goopy head and tail. Rozlinda tried not to think that it was an ugly little thing, but she knew Seesee would catch it. The hatchling turned green and gold, looking out huge-eyed from the pouch.
See?
Yes. You have lovely babies. It really will work? My blood?
The same vision as before. The bleeding princess on the rock, but now the dragon crunched into the blood-soaked rock.
So you still have a dragon rock in Dorn? Rozlinda said.
Ate all, long ago.
Rozlinda sat up. “Ro, where’s the rock for the sacrifice?”
“It’s called the Dragon’s Womb. Don’t talk about it.”
He reached for her, but she grabbed his hand. “We have to. If I’m going to do t
his, it has to work.”
“Seesee says it will.”
“Didn’t you hear her? She needs the green rock, and you said they ate that from the womb long ago.”
He sat up, too. “She can talk to only one mind if she wants. You need more dragon rock, Seesee? More than you ate?”
For eggs, yes.
Exasperation rose from him like steam. “You could have mentioned it before.”
Did. Made you unhappy.
He gripped his head. “The picture of the princess! Always on the rock. Always. We’ll have to go back for more.” He lowered his hands. “That’s not all bad news.”
More days and nights.
Better to go on to Dorn and make babies. Happy.
“No, Seesee,” Rozlinda said. “That wouldn’t make us happy at all.”
Not true.
“It is true. People can be sad and happy at the same time. I’m sad to die, but I would be sadder to live and see the dragons die, see my family die. So in a way, dying makes me happy.”
She wasn’t sure it made sense to her, but the dragon didn’t argue.
Need less blood for one egg.
“What?” Ro and Rozlinda said it together.
Dragoners want many eggs. Everything as it should be.
But only one egg needed. In eight years, one queen. With rock and a little blood, make many eggs. Any dragon can raise the eggs. All as it should be again.
Rozlinda sensed the effort it was for Seesee to put together so much in people thought, and she thanked her. She looked at Ro and could see he was as afraid to hope as she was.
“Are you sure that will work, Seesee?” he asked.
No.
He dug his hands into his hair again.
Rozlinda tried. “Seesee, what exactly do we have to do to make sure that the dragons survive? No,” she amended, trying to avoid ambiguity. “So they reproduce forever and ever.”
“Dragons don’t think like that,” he said.
“We have to try. Seesee, it would make us very happy to have this clear.”
She could feel the effort in the dragon’s mind.
Need princess blood. Need rock. Make egg.
“We know that. But you said you couldn’t be sure only one egg would work.”
Never can be sure of what comes next.