“We’ve noticed,” Zala said. “You going to live?”
He touched his temple, wincing. “I think so. This year has been unpleasantly humbling.”
“Oh? Maybe we should find collars for all of your kind.”
His mouth twisted as he looked up at her.
She shrugged at him. “I thought you might want to share your misery with others.”
She lowered a hand, offering to help him up. He looked like he could use the assistance. She had never suffered from a mental attack from a dragon before, but she couldn’t imagine it was pleasant. The claws and fangs were bad enough.
“Not really.” Talon looked at her, and at her hand, taking long enough that she thought he would reject her offer, too proud to accept help.
But he reached up and clasped his palm to hers. As when they had shaken hands back at the pit, a tingle went through her at their touch, and once again, she found herself aware of his nudity and of his gaze upon her. Dragons didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t polite to stare into a person’s eyes indefinitely.
She pulled him up, and he rose lithely despite his injuries. She opened her fingers to release his hand, but he held the clasp, looking at her with... curiosity? Scrutiny? Confusion? She couldn’t tell. He seemed to be trying to figure something out. Even though she wasn’t a small woman, he was taller than she was by half a foot, and she was aware of how close his naked body was to her. She didn’t mind it, but she had the sense that she should.
“We’re done here, Dragon Eyes.” She pulled her hand back, wondering if she would have to use force to extract it from his grip.
Talon blinked and let her go. “Of course.”
She started toward the canyon wall to check on the others, but he spoke again.
“Shaylinor? Thank you.”
She paused to stare back at him. Had a dragon ever thanked a human? His tone sounded utterly sincere. Maybe he had spoken the truth and his year as a human truly had been humbling.
“You’re welcome.”
He tilted his head. “Do you have a name? Besides Shaylinor?”
Not one she was giving to him.
“Yes. General.”
She walked toward her people without looking back.
Chapter 4
Hours later, Talon crouched against the stone wall of another canyon while Shaylinor conferred with her two soldiers. The escaped slaves also sat or leaned against the wall, stretched out to his right. Some of them had collapsed in the dirt, weary after the long trek. He was weary, too, and his head ached in the aftermath of Semptrusis’s attack. That had been terrifying as well as painful. Now, he knew what it was like for humans to have a dragon swoop down, claws outstretched, intending to make a kill. And he knew what it was like to feel utterly helpless in the face of that.
What the king’s sister had been doing out here was a mystery to him—he’d assumed that had been a male dragon until the mental attack had come.
In learning that Talon had escaped along with all of those slaves, had the king sent her to recapture him? Except she hadn’t been trying to recapture him. She had either been trying to kill him or to damage his mind. So that he couldn’t talk to the humans? Could she and Hul already know about the deal Talon had made? About what he intended to do? If so, why couldn’t they have rescued him instead of killing him? Had he still not been forgiven for his defiance a year ago?
But did he truly want to be rescued by Hul? The dragon who had put him in that mine, leaving him to suffer at Scarkoft’s hands and never coming to check in?
Talon would prefer to regain his independence through his own strength and cunning. Since both had been elusive in the last year, he would settle for escaping through this deal he had made with Shaylinor. Even though he loathed the idea of betraying his own kind, some of whom would be the dragons who had fought under him during the war, he couldn’t help but feel bitter toward those who had left him to such an ignoble fate. Perhaps they deserved to have the humans storm into their headquarters. All he knew was that he was tired of this puny form. He longed to take to the skies again and to have the power that he had once taken for granted.
Talon rubbed his head and watched Shaylinor. She had saved his life. He was grateful, even if his life was worth little now, but he wondered why she had bothered. When it had become clear that Talon was not, as he had hoped, being rescued by one of his old comrades, why hadn’t she let the other dragon kill him? Did she so dearly want the information he had promised? She couldn’t care for him—that was a ridiculous notion. Even if she could forget that he was a dragon, and her mortal enemy, they had only known each other for a single night.
For some reason, that bit of logic bothered him. Did he want her to care for him? That seemed equally ridiculous. Even if he respected her as an enemy commander and even if he appreciated that she had saved his life, that didn’t mean he expected any relationship with her other than master and prisoner. Even that dubious relationship should be short-lived, if she was true to her word. She would release him, and he could finally gain his true form again.
He imagined showing off for her, springing into the sky, flying in gravity-defying maneuvers and perhaps slaying some enemy of hers so that she would know he was useful. As a human, he was so inept and pathetic. Never before had he needed a female to save him. He ground his teeth, imagining Semptrusis telling her brother how puny the once-mighty Aristalonis was these days.
Shaylinor turned toward him. No, she was turning toward all of the slaves.
“We’re waiting for our contact,” she said. “We expect him by dawn, and he’ll lead you to—” she glanced at Talon, “—safety.”
She was choosing her words carefully, not wanting to share any useful information with him around. He couldn’t blame her. He wondered where these people would go. There were enclaves of refugees around the continent, and of course there were army companies that fought still, hiding until they could launch surprise strikes at his kind, but he was not aware of any large groups of humans that remained in an ordered community. But he also hadn’t received any information about their resistance in this last year. He hadn’t received any information at all, he amended bitterly.
“You’ll be given food and clothing once you arrive,” Shaylinor continued. “I’m sorry I have nothing for you now. I know it’s cold, but dawn should only be an hour off. Huddle together. Stay warm. Relax. We haven’t seen our dragon stalker for a couple of hours now. With luck, he was scared away.”
“We’re used to the cold, General,” a thin, reedy woman said. “Don’t worry about us.”
“We’re just glad you came,” a man said, gratitude thick in his voice. Maybe adoration too.
Talon was not sure why, but it surprised him to hear other men expressing feelings for Shaylinor that were similar to his own. Of course her people would appreciate her. She had just helped them. And wasn’t she one of the more notorious—notorious from a dragon’s point of view—commanders in their army? Many people must adore her. She could probably crook a finger and call any man she chose to her nest.
He frowned at himself, rubbing his aching head again. He didn’t know why he was thinking of mating. Again. Maybe because it was less disturbing than thinking of why Hul and Semptrusis wanted him dead?
Shaylinor raised a hand, acknowledging the people’s gratitude, then said something to her archer and walked toward the wall. A ledge thrust out overhead, offering the escaped slaves protection from the sky, from those who might be flying in the sky. It was a logical place to sit and rest, and Talon needed rest as much as the others did, so he crouched against the wall to use it for support. But an alert energy tightened his body when Shaylinor headed for him. Not him exactly, but a place against the wall a few feet away from him.
She covered a yawn with her hand, then slipped something out of her pocket and chewed on it as she put her back to the cool stone. She looked tired after the march and the previous day’s events. An urge to scoot closer and put an arm
around her came over him. Was that urge also related to human mating rituals? He didn’t have an erection now, so perhaps it was something else. Part of an interest in pleasing her? In showing gratitude? Did he hope she would acknowledge his gratitude in a different manner than she had those of the human slaves? By all his winged ancestors, this form was confusing.
“Why did you save me?” Talon asked softly. He kept his voice low because he didn’t want the other humans to overhear him. He also hoped she would come closer.
She did take a couple of steps toward him until only an arm’s length separated them. Talon rose from his crouch and moved closer. She tensed, her hand dropping to her sword hilt.
“Why did you save me?” he asked again, letting a note of puzzlement into his voice, lamenting that she still saw him as a threat.
“You’re my prisoner, and we have a deal.” Shaylinor sounded more puzzled than he, as if he had confused her by asking, as if anything other than saving him would have been unacceptable.
“She wanted to hurt me, not the rest of your people. You could have let her have me at no risk to you.”
“She?” Shaylinor asked. “I thought you said a male dragon was after us.”
“That was what I assumed until she attacked. Then I recognized her touch—her assault on my mind. We have met before.” Talon did not mention that they had almost become mates; he did not want Shaylinor to believe he had interest in other females. A strange thought, since she and Semptrusis weren’t even of the same species. He doubted this human general would be jealous if she found out he’d had mates in the past. Too bad.
He almost laughed at his thoughts, realizing slowly—stupidly slowly, he supposed—that he wanted to mate with Shaylinor. His penis had known before he had. It had nothing to do with creating offspring—he highly doubted humans and dragons could create offspring. As illogical as it was from the dragon perspective, he simply wanted to mate with her because some human instinct that had come with his form told him it would be pleasurable and satisfying, that it would be a far superior experience to what he had endured with Scarkoft.
“That meeting didn’t go well?” Shaylinor asked when he did not explain further. He was so busy thinking of mating that he struggled to remember what they had been talking about.
“I annoyed some important dragons last year by refusing...”
A part of him wanted to tell her exactly what had happened, that he had wanted a treaty with her people, a cessation of hostilities, but he worried she would believe he was trying to curry favor if he said that. More, she might figure out who he was and that they had battled before. She might retract her deal if she knew he had killed so many of her people. It would be better if she believed he was simply one of Hul’s guards, someone hidden away in the mountain and rarely having interaction with humans. But could he bring himself to be dishonest? He had always considered himself honorable, and the thought of lying to her repulsed him. Perhaps he should simply keep quiet about his past.
“The specifics do not matter now,” Talon said. “I annoyed the wrong dragons. You could have guessed.”
Movement drew his eye. Her lieutenant was walking along the row of slaves with her hand on the pommel of her sword as she alternately glanced at the people and watched the sky.
Talon willed her to turn back and head in the other direction. He felt no grudge toward the woman, but he wanted to continue to have this semblance of privacy with Shaylinor. The slaves closest to him on the other side were huddling together and talking with each other, ignoring him. Them. He wondered if Shaylinor was cold, if there was any chance she might respond well if he offered his arm. He felt the cold himself, but had grown used to being naked and alone at night out here in the desert. He had usually curled into a ball and slept with his hands under his armpits until morning came and work and the overseer returned.
“All’s quiet, ma’am,” Salena said, approaching.
She looked at Talon, though she couldn’t have seen much in the dark. The shadows were thick along the rock wall.
“Good,” Shaylinor said. “Get some rest. I’ll keep watch.”
“Some of the slaves—”
“Refugees,” Shaylinor corrected.
“Er, yes. Some of the refugees are taking your huddling suggestion and elevating it to another level. It’s possible they thought you said cuddling.” Salena turned toward the shadows farther down the wall.
Soft groans and grunts of exertion came from that direction. Someone closer tittered.
“Let them,” Shaylinor said. “Some of them are probably husbands and wives who were separated the entire time they were chained in the pits.”
“Oh. I guess it makes sense that they’d... uhm. But here? They’ll be safe soon and can find some privacy.” Salena looked at Talon, though he couldn’t guess why. Was she, like Vorkan, thinking that he was standing too close to her commander? Or maybe she wanted his opinion on the slaves mating with each other.
He snorted to himself. Unlikely.
During his time in the pit, he had heard and seen the slaves joining before, comforting each other and finding what release they could when the taskmasters went to sleep. He supposed some couples might have been separated by the chains, but some groups of people had been kept close enough to work together or had been unchained at night to help with serving meals. None of the women had ever approached Talon wanting to join with him, not that he had ever spoken to them and given invitations. They’d all known what he was and had feared him. These two women with their storm swords were the first who had no trouble looking into his eyes. No, that wasn’t quite true. Salena looked away when Talon held her eyes. Only Shaylinor gazed back, unaffected by his attention.
He looked at her now, wondering what she would do if he shifted closer and touched her. Would the sounds of other couples joining put any thoughts in her mind?
“With the world at war and life uncertain, people find the small pleasures wherever they can,” Shaylinor said softly. Was that a hint of longing in her voice? “You can’t blame them for that.”
“No, ma’am,” Salena said. “I don’t. I guess I’m just... well, I would be shy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that either.”
“No, ma’am.” Salena looked at Talon again.
Shaylinor gazed out into the desert, at the dark silhouettes of the saguaro cactuses, their arms twisted upward toward the sky. Talon wished she would look over at him.
“Do dragons ever...” Salena paused, shuffling her feet. “I was just wondering, because it seemed unlikely, the overseer, I mean. Do dragons ever mate with humans, or was he just being cruel?”
Talon was no expert in reading humans through their facial expressions and actions, but some intuition struck him then, and he realized that the young woman might be sexually interested in him. He wasn’t sure what to think about that, but found that he still wanted her to go away. It would have been convenient if Shaylinor had shared her curiosity, but he was more drawn to her aloofness. If he could win her interest, it would mean more. Besides, she was the one who had saved him, who had freed him, and who had slain his tormentor. It even pleased him that she had been the one to battle with him in the past, to know that through cunning and skill, she had survived countless battles against his kind. Her power and confidence appealed to him in a way that the curiosity of youth did not.
Once again, he resisted the urge to shift closer, to touch her. Salena was looking at him, waiting for an answer.
“He was being cruel,” Talon said shortly, hoping his tone would convince her to walk away.
“Because he had a reason to hate you?”
“He didn’t know me.” He wouldn’t have explained further, but Shaylinor pulled her gaze from the cactuses and looked at him. Abruptly, he had the urge to let her know about his kind and that he was different. “Back on our home world, there are many types of dragons, with the red- and blue-scaled ones being the most powerful, both with magic and with their ability to brea
the fire. They’re largest in size. They rule. Then there’s a pecking order, as with your chickens. My kind—those with the mottled scales you’ve seen, scales designed to blend in with terrain for hiding—were the weakest there. We were hunted and taunted, often killed and sometimes eaten. When Hul—our king—found a way to create a portal to another world, we mottled dragons gladly went through it with him, to escape those who persecuted us. When we arrived here and there were no predators greater than us, we saw that we finally had a chance to rule as the strongest in the land. After being tormented so long, some were relieved, too, to have an opportunity to hunt and taunt, to kill someone else.”
Salena and Shaylinor exchanged looks. Yes, their people. Perhaps explaining this was doing nothing to further his goals with Shaylinor. It only reminded them of what he was. Still, he might as well finish. Maybe his honesty would mean something.
“Some of my kind let the power go to their heads and became just like those who tormented us, preying on weaker species and enjoying it.”
“But not you?” Salena whispered, taking a step toward him.
Shaylinor held out a hand. “Lieutenant, whatever notions you have regarding our prisoner, I suggest you put them aside.” Her voice was cold.
Salena scurried back. “I—yes, ma’am. I was just curious.”
Talon held his tongue, even though the honest part of him wanted to correct the young woman’s assumption that he was different, that he hadn’t killed humans. He might not have taken the enjoyment in it that some of his kind had, but as a military commander, he had killed far more than most, and he had been under their supreme commander’s orders to raze entire cities. He could not speak of that to Shaylinor.
After her commander’s words, Salena mumbled something about staying on watch and walked quickly away. Shaylinor sighed, as if she regretted speaking, but Talon was pleased to be alone with her again.
“Do you find it difficult,” he asked, “commanding so many?”
“Salena and Vorkan?” she asked dryly.
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