by Sariah Skye
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I said with a scoff, dismissing him. Secretly, I felt pleased with his acknowledgment.
“This is some party,” I said, nodding around us.
Maxxus’ eyes fell on a small human-appearing family at the table across from us, as they dug into plates of food containing potatoes and some kind of meat. He practically drooled, watching the man—the dad, I assumed—dig in.
“Hungry?” I asked, with a laugh.
“Indeed. But, I can wait a moment,” his gaze trailed off to a long line before a stretch of tables containing piles of food. “I hate lines.”
I chuckled. “Indeed.” We sat in silence, watching the family interact for a few moments.
The dad seemed to argue with the youngest child—a daughter—in trying to get her to eat her food. He had a forkful of speared broccoli, slathered in cheese he waved in front of her face, making silly faces. The little girl clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, vehemently shaking her head no! The boy—slightly older, was wolfing down everything on his plate and was sneaking spoonfuls of mashed potatoes off his father's plate; he was a carbon copy of his dad right down to his curly brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The little girl appeared to be a perfect mix of her father—with the same piercing eyes—and her mother sitting next to her with a long mane of cornsilk blonde hair and dainty features. The mother appeared to smirk and grabbed the fork away from the dad, and scraped the broccoli off on the side of the plate, effectively removing most of the cheese. The little girl's eyes brightened and opened her mouth wide, devouring the entire bite quickly. Apparently, she just didn't like cheese.
The father frowned and covered his face with his palms, scrubbing them down his face and revealing a wide smile. The mother responded with her own giggle and the two parents exchanged a round of happy laughter about their children. The mother leaned over the girl and placed a kiss on her (assumed) husband's cheek and he beamed brightly. The little boy clamped his eyes shut with his hands and pretended to gag. The father grabbed the roll from his own plate and chucked it at his son playfully, causing the boy to howl with laughter.
I don't know what struck me about that family—maybe because, like mine, we were a set of parents that seemed to care for each other deeply (inasmuch as dragon couples visibly cared for each other; displays of affection weren't commonplace but even my parents had their share when they thought no one was looking) with an older son and younger daughter. But unlike this family, we weren't happy, or functional. I sighed sadly, recalling our own family dinners when I was living regularly in Anarach.
“Leorah, come on, aren't you finished yet?”
“No, mother, I just started!”
“You don't talk back to your mother!” my father shouted warningly.
“I didn't!” I protested.
My mother scoffed. “Don't pull that on us; we know what happened today in the school yard. You're just lucky Professor was able—and willing—to stop Lorusto before he scalded you to ashes. I tell you, I wouldn't have blamed him if he had.”
I winced, blinking tears of pain out of my eyes at the words of my mother. Did she really just wish I had been burned... to death?
“Mother, that's harsh!” Braeden protested. “She had to stand up for herself!”
“Well, because she stood up for herself, we're facing all sorts of flack at the Court trying to do damage control because of your little stunt!”
“Stunt? He started it!” I cried in desperation. “I don't even have any magic! What can I do?”
“Successfully anger the child of a prominent Lord, that's what you did,” my father contributed, clearly dismayed.
“Are you serious? You're more worried about your reputation than your daughter?” my brother, obviously disgusted, took a rare moment to defy them with his words.
“Reputations cannot be fixed without much effort. And Leorah is a lost cause,” my mother said dismissively.
My eyes brimming with tears, I stood up at the dinner table, slamming my fists down on the table top. “I wish I had died when I was born, just like all the other pink dragons!” Sobbing, I pushed my chair into the table with force, shaking everyone's place settings and darted off for my chambers.
“Ungrateful,” I heard my father say as I ran off.
I flung myself on my bed and cried myself to sleep; I don't know why I was surprised by their harsh words, but in this instance, when my life had been at risk, you'd think that they'd offer maybe a split second of compassion. But, no.
My brother attempted to knock on my door, but I ignored him, quietly sobbing into my pillow until I fell into an uneasy sleep.
Yeah, our family dinners weren't as charming as this one. I sighed, and continued to watch the happy family, a feeling welling up deep inside that nearly choked my breath away.
“Leo? Everything all right?” Maxxus' voice pulled me out of my awful memory.
I forced a smile. “Yes... fine. Just...”
He nodded towards the family, appearing thoughtful. “You ever picture yourself having a family?”
I sighed deeply, resting my arms on the table and resting my chin on them. “Of course. But... it'll never happen. So I don't even think about it.”
Maxxus looked at me quizzically. “No? Why do you say that?”
I laughed dryly before turning to him and giving him a stone-faced expression. “You know why.”
He frowned. “It doesn't have to always be that way.”
I shrugged and didn't reply.
“You don't picture things like that with... anyone? Not even the sorcerer?” he asked sourly, and I chuckled a bit. “No one?”
I sighed once more. “It would be...complicated. With him. Exceedingly so. And I never allowed myself to think about anyone back home. Who would want me?”
Maxxus frowned sadly. He opened his mouth slightly and quickly snapped it shut again.
“What?”
He sighed. “You never know. You just—you never know. There's lots of dragons here, you know,” he said, waving around us. I raised a brow. I didn't see any but that doesn't mean they weren't here; just not shifted. “Not everyone is a raging asshole like in Anarach. Keep an open mind.”
I snorted. “Everyone knows about pink dragons and how evil we are.”
“Not everyone believes that.” Maxxus reached over and grasped my hand quickly before letting his gaze wander. “Yeah. Maybe one day...” his words trailed off, and he smiled lightly as I looked at him with bewilderment. He watched the family again for a few more moments before rising to his feet and smiling warmly at me. “Well. I’m going to go find some of that finally.” He motioned towards the table of food.
I glanced around, and noticed the line had dropped off some. “Good timing.”
“Want anything?” he asked, before taking off.
I shrugged. “Just… whatever. I can get some later too, no big deal.” With a brief nod, Maxxus joined the crowd before the buffet.
My gaze turned back towards the family. What would it be like to be a part of a functional, joyful family like that? What would it feel like to be truly loved, my presence needed and desired? The way this man looked at his wife with admiration and something akin to desire, but I couldn't quite place it. Contentment? No one had ever looked at me like that. Gabriel came the closest, but his insecurities compromised his sincerity. I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be loved—truly loved; my existence not only merely tolerated, but treasured.
A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face, pulling me out of my daydream. Kiarra was standing before me, setting a very large tankard of something in front of me. I took a heavy sniff and realized it was something like ale, or beer. A very strong and unusual beer. She set another tankard in the spot where Maxxus had been sitting.
“Where'd he go?” she inquired, sitting down beside me and taking a large swig of her own drink.
I nodded off towards the buffet he had walked off to, and
she peered over my shoulder, obviously seeing him. “Ah, good. Of course.” I saw her wink and I shifted around to see who she was winking at.
Maxxus, who was standing in line, looked sheepish as he gazed everywhere but over in our direction. Okay…
Kiarra clicked her tongue and grinned at me mischievously. I narrowed my eyes at her. “What?”
Her mouth fell open and she laughed. “What? Oh dear, Leorah… are you really that naive?”
I blinked at her, squinting. “Apparently. About what?”
She chuckled. Her words slurred slightly so I got the impression that not only was she a bit tipsy but she had little control over what she was saying. I raised a brow.
“That’s not your first one, is it?” I asked, dubious.
She shook her head, with a loose grin. “No… I had a quick shot with the brewer. Traditionally, before your first beer, you have to sample all of them.” She let out a small burp, and put a hand to her mouth, looking embarrassed—but only momentarily. She giggled again, before speaking. “You know why Gabriel doesn’t like him, right?”
“Who?” I questioned, oblivious.
“Maxxus,” she said, nodding in his direction.
I stared, blankly. “Because… he’s acting like a child?”
She snorted into her beer causing it to splash on her face. She wiped it away with the cuff of her buttoned-up red blouse. “Yes, that but…you really don’t see it, do you?”
“No.”
She shook her head. “Maxxus. He has a thing for you.”
Now it was my turn to choke as I took a sip. “What? You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” I glanced over my shoulder at him, as he was now conversing with someone in line before the table square, smiling politely and nodding. The other person, a very pretty female of a species unfamiliar to me, grinned at him stupidly as he waited for her to dish up food in front of him. Involuntarily I felt myself grimace slightly. “Come on—he's flirting with that girl!”
Kiarra scoffed. “Boy for someone supposed to be in touch with spirit you surely have no idea how to read something so obvious, huh?”
“Oh, give me a break,” I protested. I dared another glance at the green dragon. The girl—the damn wanton slutface—was grinning stupidly at him, mindlessly twirling a lock of her white blonde hair. Nymph, maybe?
As long as it wasn't short for nymphomaniac… I felt myself growl under my breath.
Kiarra burst out laughing. “What's wrong? Jealous?”
I gaped at her, taken aback. “What?”
She smirked. “He's not speaking to her anymore anyway. Admit it. You like him.”
“He's a friend, of course I like him,” I spoke stubbornly, but my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Why was I blushing? From her allusion; that had to be it. Right. I glanced at him over my shoulder. The girl had turned back around and appeared disgruntled. Maxxus crossed his arms over his chest and was looking up at the sky, around at the food, disinterested in her. “Okay, so maybe he wasn't flirting. But that doesn't mean he likes me.”
Kiarra let out a musical giggle. “Oh, he doesn't like you. He loves you!”
I rolled my eyes dismissively. “I really doubt that. He’s nice to me because of my grandfather, that’s it.”
Kiarra shrugged. “Believe what you want, but it’s pretty obvious. He knows that I’m with your brother, yet he isn’t half as chivalrous to me as he is you.”
I shot her a strange look. “Because he knows you’re with Braeden.”
She lifted a brow. “And yet, he thinks you’re with Gabriel and that doesn’t matter.”
I sneered. “Give me a break. We’re not together, okay? It’s just because I’ve known him for awhile. Maxxus. Well… sorta. I don’t think anyone really knows him, you know?” I added, with a guilty sigh. “He’s pretty mysterious.” I thought back to the sense of anxiety that waved off of him as I tried to ‘read’ his thoughts.
“He is indeed.” Kiarra let the subject drop, momentarily. I scoffed and turned my attention once again back at the family who was giggling about something new now; the little girl was taking her broccolis and making them walk on her daddy's shoulder, making a strange voice. Despite feeling guilty for being a voyeur, I smiled wistfully at their display.
“You can have that, you know,” Kiarra said, interrupting me from my reverie.
I snapped my head back towards her and shot her a strange look. “Right. Me? It's not possible. No one would dare be with me. Besides... they're human, aren't they? It isn't quite that pleasant for us.”
“Doesn't have to be that way; they are one of the handful of dragon families in town. Lilethe is a yellow dragon and her husband—Damiscus—is gray. They're from Dreka, I think. I don't know, they've been here so long...”
“Really?” I wonder what drove them here from Dreka? Perhaps they were even more strict than Anarach.
“What about Gabriel?” she asked playfully.
I shrugged. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to imagine Gabriel with a little girl, showing her how to form water balls in her hands like Daddy did as the mother looked on and, as much as I wanted to picture that mother as being me, I just couldn't. Tears stabbed at my eyes, and I don't know what stopped me from picturing it. When I imagined a perfect life for the sorcerer, I couldn't picture myself. My being dragon would complicate things so much. Would it? Or am I letting my nervousness of being hurt get in the way again? I forced myself into the picture; me, carrying a coffee, wearing an apron over a very round, swollen stomach. I handed the coffee to Gabriel, who smiled at me with that smirk of his and reached out to lovingly pat my stomach, but when he did, the picture of his handsome face faded. I frowned.
“I don't know...” was all I said sadly to her.
“He's not the only option...” she said, in a singsong voice. As if on cue, we were joined again by the green dragon.
Maxxus reached over the table, setting a dish of food—a turkey leg, some roasted potatoes, rolls and a vegetable medley—carefully before me. “Hope this is satisfactory,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, shooting him a smile. He nodded and smiled his own half-smile in reply, and sat down across from me.
Kiarra looked between us, back and forth and grinned.
“What?” I demanded, in irritation, slamming my palm down on the table.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said with a chuckle. Maxxus cocked a brow at me, but I just shrugged.
“I think she’s had too much to drink,” I replied knowingly to him. He smirked.
“There definitely does seem to be something about this ale that is different from the ones back home,” he said. “I can’t place it.”
“It’s magical,” Kiarra said with a wide flourish of her hand.
“Around here, I wouldn’t be surprised.” I took a large sip again, not really tasting it the first time. The amber liquid tingled my throat warmly as it went down. “Huh. Not bad. Usually I’m a wine person, but this isn’t bad at all.”
Kiarra raised her glass. “Toast! A toast.”
I chuckled at her, and Maxxus and I raised our glasses in kind. “To what?”
“To the dragons who are going to save us all!” Kiarra said, raising her mug a little higher before taking a large swig.
“God, help us, we’re fucked,” I said, raising my own mug. Maxxus, who’d been in mid-drink, laughed into his glass, causing foamy ale to shoot everywhere.
We all giggled, peals of raucous laughter. Several of the townsfolk turned around to look at us, but we didn’t care.
Someone—an older gentleman with brown hair and a salted, brown beard—from across the square raised his own mug and shouted, “If the dragons are laughing, you know it’s a party!” he said, speaking with a slight Irish accent that just added to his charm. He took a large swallow of his own drink, some of it spilling out the side of his mouth and onto his red plaid shirt. I found this entirely hysterical and laughed harder; the small amount of ale I’d had already made me feel a little woozy a
nd loose.
“What?” Kiarra insisted through my noisy laughter.
I felt a flush on my cheeks. “He looks like someone… like a lumberjack or something.”
Maxxus slammed down his beer and banged his fist on the table, laughing loudly. “Shit, you’re right. Are lumberjacks magical?”
Kiarra shrugged. “I guess that one is. A magical lumberjack dragon.”
“He’s a dragon too?” I asked in surprise. She nodded.
“Yep. Brown, I believe. He and his mate, a blue dragon, own a little brewery in the village,” she explained. “Somehow, they do something to their beer to make it so that dragons can’t metabolize it so fast, so we can get tipsy off it.” She took a long drink and giggled. “And yay to that!”
I raised my eyes at her and shrugged. “What the hell?” I glanced at Maxxus and we clinked our glasses together, giggling harder when the liquid splashed out and over the sides all over our laps.
“Perhaps there is a reason dragons don’t drink to get drunk?” Maxxus observed, between snorts of laughter.
There were more whoops and hollers, and the bearded lumberjack guy reached for something at his feet—a violin, or a fiddle, I didn’t know which one because they both looked the same —and began playing. Another handful of mythos joined him: one on a small piccolo appearing instrument, another on another fiddle, and another on a set of drums.
Kiarra gasped. “It’s a song from back home!” She slogged down a huge gulp and slammed the tankard down on the table with a loud bang. Maxxus and I, who were in our own little world, giggling up a storm, jumped in our seats at the noise. She leaped clumsily to her feet and came around the table.
“Dance, Leo!” she said cheerfully, grabbing me by the hand and pulling my arm towards the makeshift band. I tried to pull away, but she wasn’t having that. Kiarra managed to pull me to my feet. I looked to Maxxus pitifully, who just held up his hands in a sign of “You’re on your own.”
“Traitor!” I called back at him, in mock anger as Kiarra had managed to not only pull me up and out of my seat but halfway through the square as well.