by Lisa Daniels
Change?
Puzzled, Esmer did as bid, and gaped in sheer astonishment when she saw Gerran morph from his blue dragon form, to a human with sapphire eyes. Speechless, she watched as Gerran opened the stone door with a key from his pocket.
The people who she thought were humans – were actually dragons. Not humans. Her eyes trailed over Gerran's dark, curly hair, his heavy, hooded eyelids that gave him a half-asleep expression, and the noble curve of his cheeks and chin. Those liquid blue eyes seemed to pierce into her soul, and she shivered in pleasant, surprised delight.
His human form was utterly gorgeous. Esmer struggled to take it all in, even as Gerran indicated for her to go inside. She did as bid, and he closed the door behind.
“Normally, princess, I'd take you to one of the tower rooms in this castle and lock you up there. But I suspect that would be a poor reward for someone who wanted to be taken.” He moved sinuously through the room, in complete control of his body, and she watched him, mesmerized from the motion. Dear Gods, this shifter was hot. Already, her cheeks started to flame. She smelled power from him, and her body already started reacting to his presence.
Probably because I wasn't expecting this. She took a deep breath, gathering what remained of her wits together.
Prince Gerran. A dragon from a royal clan in the Wilderness. Until about ten minutes ago, Esmer had absolutely no clue that dragons even possessed a social structure such as this. Guess I'm going to be learning a lot of new things. Hey. I wonder if I'll bump into Marea? Is that possible?
“So, I ask you this, princess. Will you try to escape from me?”
“Depends,” Esmer replied, feeling bold. “If you treat me like dirt, I probably will. But honestly, I've wanted to meet a dragon for a long time. I'm interested to see more of your society.”
“Good,” Gerran said, a lazy smile covering his face. He folded his arms, apparently satisfied with the answer. “It will make things easier. We have a whole bunch of protocol for princesses, usually because they're reluctant. You can imagine the difficulties we have with looking after them.”
“Possibly,” Esmer said, though she expected that princesses who liked being those typical traditional princesses might have a harder time with dragon captivity. You were supposed to learn things like how to scream and how to react when a dragon took you. Esmer had pretty much broken all the rules in the kingdom notebook in the space of an hour. “I take it you guys don't get very many princess volunteers.”
“You could say that,” Gerran murmured, his storm blue eyes fixated upon her. Esmer found that look very distracting. He was so, well, manly. Standing there tall and proud, like a prince, a commanding expression upon his noble features. A hint of stubble displayed upon his cheeks, and his blue eyes, with those sloping hoods made him so damn dreamy.
If it wasn't for the fact that he happened to be a dragon, Esmer felt fairly certain all the princesses she knew would be clawing over her, vying for his attention.
“Will you be wanting me to do chores? I heard dragons do that with their princesses.”
“We do,” Gerran said, nodding. “Honestly, if you're not going to run, you can do whatever. The chores are more of a distraction.”
“Eh. I can cook. Wait.” An idea popped into Esmer's head. “Could I learn magic?”
Gerran acted surprised at the request. “You want to learn magic?”
“Yes! I didn't get the chance back in my kingdom. I actually wanted to learn magic and have a pet dragon when I was little.”
Gerran smiled. The enthusiasm she gave him was not the sullen demeanor of someone plotting to run away. It resembled the excitement of someone intending to stick around, and he clearly saw it. “I suppose I can look into it. I know a few witches in the Wilderness who might be interested in taking on a princess as an apprentice.”
“Fine with me,” Esmer declared. The excitement continued brewing in her, as possibilities exploded within her. Dragons had a society. They consorted with magic and monsters on a daily basis. Already, things sounded way better here than her home in Naterus. “I can bake you something nice tonight if we have the ingredients, as well. A homecoming, to celebrate your capture of a princess. You do celebrate things like that, yes?”
The prince gave her a wry twitch of his lips. “Perhaps. I'm sure you'll cook wonderfully...” He closed the distance between them, and gave her a languid, impish look, his hooded eyes boring into her. Esmer shivered, and her mind skipped to the fairy Godmother prophecy.
Oh, Gods. Gerran was a prince.
Surely it didn't mean that? And if it did, wouldn't there be far more Questers aiming to take down the prince of dragons? The hoards he concealed must be glorious and glittering with riches. Would Gerran fight alone, or would he employ party members, like typical five man band Questers?
I forget how dangerous it actually is for dragons to take a princess. The reward for them must be higher than the risk in their society. It's the only thing that makes sense.
She preferred focusing on that thought, rather than the fact Gerran stood so close that she smelled the deep, musky scent of his maleness, heard the narrow huff of his breath, felt his presence slowly envelop and overwhelm her, as if he was expanding to fill every empty spot in the room.
Maybe she felt that effect because of the knowledge his true form happened to be a humongous blue scaled dragon. Maybe she sensed the aura of the dragon, wrapped up in his tiny human meat frame.
Rather than the fact she might be harboring some serious sexual attraction towards his physical form.
When I wanted to have a dragon as a pet, this wasn't quite what I had in mind.
She bit down on her lip to suppress a laugh, even as Gerran bowed. “I look forward to whatever it is you plan to cook later. Just... lay off on the poisons, will you? Most princesses seem to obtain the bright idea to add deadly herbs at some point. So I'll need to explain to you that dragons are immune to virtually all poisons.”
“Except dragonleaf, right?” Esmer said, wanting to prove she wasn't completely ignorant. Gerran's eyes flickered slightly at the statement.
“Yes. Thankfully, dragonleaf is rare, since we make a habit of burning it whenever we find it.”
Esmer smiled. Although she didn't plan to poison anyone, she found the look of worry creasing his brow strangely empowering. As if he wasn't sure just what exactly he'd agreed to let into his home.
Chapter Three
For the next few weeks, Esmer adapted to her new life as a dragon's princess. She took to all her chores with a lusty enthusiasm that greatly disturbed all the other dragons in the vicinity, and she often heard them muttering, “unnatural,” when they passed her. Her limited eight food wonder dish gained popularity with Gerran and some of his closest friends, and he grew confident and cheerful of inviting them over to his abode to try out Esmer's steaks or potato bake dishes. It seemed to be quite the novelty to have a princess that actually knew how to bake things.
The other dragons spoke out their concern as well when Esmer was allowed to go wandering around the prince's residence and out onto the streets. Several had even stopped her, thinking she might be escaping, and she needed to explain to them, over and over that she wasn't escaping, just walking around.
It became frustrating after a bit, because no one wanted to believe her. Even the other princesses currently captured by dragons seemed to think Esmer might be possessed by demons or something, because they didn't understand how she liked being a dragon's princess.
“It's easy,” she explained to one green eyed princess known as Otera, clearly growing out her hair to try and use it to break out her tower at a point, “because I hated life back in Naterus. My mother was going to marry me to some pimply prince, and that wasn't for me.”
“But you should want to be married to a prince!” Otera blinked her fabulously long eyelashes, her pretty face agape in horror. “That's unheard of! No one wants to run away to avoid being married!”
“I did,” Esmer s
aid, suppressing the sigh that threatened to come out, along with the urge to roll her eyes and possibly strangle Otera. Most princesses held that same, air head quality that princes found so endearing, for some reason. It made Esmer seriously contemplate homicide to encounter it.
Gerran, of course, loved the attention she created. For him, Esmer suspected, she was a novelty, a highly unusual creature that only came across the dragons once in a blue moon, though there had been tales before of princesses actively choosing to be a dragon's princess over life in the hundred kingdoms. Alright to hear about them, something else to witness it in person.
Gerran kept his cool, even when the first of the Questers started coming. To date, Esmer watched him fight three knights, one ice mage, and a band of five with conveniently balanced abilities, from a warrior to a healer to a ranger. Thanks to Gerran's Idol of Despair, a particularly powerful witch enchantment that the Questers unfortunately hadn't received the antidote for, Gerran thrashed them all quite admirably.
One time, he showed Esmer his collection of enchantments, and Esmer simply sat there, impressed, as the noble faced prince took out the objects from his hoard one by one. “I have a Cloak of Illusion. Perfect for sneaking around, though people tend to look down on you if you resort to trickery in these places. Got it for a spell from a swamp witch. And then there's the Dragon Horn. The human kingdom of Vrytal, hundreds of years ago, possessed this, but they didn't read the fine print that stated that the dragons you can summon with it may not necessarily obey your commands. As of now, Vrytal is the second dragon kingdom in the Wilderness.”
Esmer listened to this with her lips curled in faint amusement. She pictured some hapless prince blowing on the horn, and then a great swarm of dragons bombarding their kingdom moments later, summoned by the power of the artefact.
“This is a Genie bottle, here. But you can't open it, because someone wished for the Genie to be sealed so tightly that no one can ever release them again. Shame, I would have liked my three wishes.”
He casually handed Esmer the bottle, with the stopper in it, and two eyes squashed against the glass, looking rather pissed off. She tapped it, and the eyes blinked.
“The Cauldron of Endless Food is a truly remarkable enchantment, though there's an inherent design flaw in that it just won't stop producing the food you ask it to.” Gerran indicated a shiny black cauldron perched on a table, hissing softly. “I'm planning to go on an artefact hunt. You're welcome to come along with me, since I'll be visiting a witch along the way. You wanted magic lessons, right?”
“Right!” Esmer immediately snapped to attention, quivering in excitement. “But are you sure I can come along? I'm not exactly a fighter or anything of the sort.”
“Ah, that's nothing. I can gear you up in some of the gear we have here.” Gerran smiled eagerly at her, before he rummaged through the glimmering treasure pile, gold coins spraying everywhere. The shower of gold meant nothing to Esmer, she saw enough of it in the royal treasuries. Gerran acted more like a big kid, playing with his treasures, and he threw out objects towards Esmer's feet.
Within moments, Esmer was wearing a ring of strength, designed to boost her physical power beyond ordinary princessy means, boots of speed for increasing her average running speed, an amulet of protection against most conventional attacks, anti-curse earrings and a Sword of Slaying, which apparently enhanced her combat skill.
In short, she felt enormously boosted by the offerings.
“A good Quester would have similar items,” Gerran murmured, as he fished out one more thing. “This ring, as well. It's a teleport, currently fixed onto my front doorstep. I have one as well,” he said, displaying his own teleport ring. Esmer couldn't help but notice how he wore it on his left hand, fourth finger, and wondered if he knew the symbolism behind it. She slid the ring onto her thumb, the only thing big enough to hold it.
“Are you that sure I'm not going to run away?” Esmer teased, smiling at Gerran as he stepped back to admire her new enchantments. In response, Gerran approached her, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
“I'm sure.”
Esmer's brain shut down. Her mouth opened and closed as the prince winked, then departed the treasure room, leaving her in a near comatose state.
What?
Her heart sped up to almost triple the pace. Strange, floaty gooey things stirred in her. And then there was that odd effect in her stomach. People described it as butterflies, but it felt more like a a flock of bees buzzing in there. Oh my.
He was that confident, was he? That she'd be some common girl, quick and easy to become besotted with whoever showed her the slightest bit of affection?
She stared at the ring for a long time, rolling it around on her thumb, mind still drifting to the cloud, when she finally left the room, and it sealed itself shut.
I can't believe he just did that. Like, there wasn't even any build up! He just kissed me on the lips like someone tripping me up on the street. What the blasts?
She drew out the Sword of Slaying from its sheath and examined the fine, glimmering gold blade. Gerran stood on the other side of his chambers, and he raised an eyebrow, before grabbing a sword of his own and approaching her.
“Let's get you warmed up with your new items, first, princess.” He struck a pose, and Esmer bowed awkwardly, feeling foolish. However, when Gerran lashed out, she found the sword instantly responding in her hand, as if it had a mind of her own, to block his blow. Still controlled by the sword, Esmer took a few steps forward, her speed boosted, her strength enhanced, and Gerran swerved out of the way so that she hacked clean through his leather sofa.
“Oh no! I'm so sorry!” Esmer spun on the spot, still unable to control herself, as the sword sought him out again. Gerran blocked blow after blow, neatly stepping away when her enhanced strength imbued itself into the attacks, laughing at her dismay.
“You can switch it off. Just concentrate on not wanting to fight and you'll stop hacking away. I do uh,” he said, after avoiding another slash from Esmer, “recommend placing it back in the sheath. It's quite trigger happy.”
“Oh,” Esmer squeaked, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to stop trying to kill Gerran. The sword dipped, no longer fuelling her limbs, and she hastily shoved it back in the sheath. “That's such a cheat. Who needs years of training when you can have this do everything for you?”
“They're not easy to come by,” Gerran said, noting her flushed face, her deep breathing, her heaving chest. “And generally you'll find they come with the soul of a swordmaster in them. This one doesn't talk, but some do.”
Esmer placed her hands on her knees for a moment, and Gerran laughed again, placing a hand on her shoulder. “How did you feel?”
“I don't know,” Esmer said honestly. “I don't usually go around trying to kill people.”
“Uh huh. Look, I think you have something here...” Gerran said, pointing his finger to her chest. Esmer looked down, and Gerran flicked her nose.
“Oh, for God's sake!”
“Got you.” He winked, and left the room, leaving Esmer even more irritated. This wasn't the first time she'd been caught out by his random trick, and yet she still kept falling for it. Every time. It didn't even make sense. He just pointed to her, she looked, and then he flicked her, and always acted like he pulled off some excellent trick.
Shaking her head, she went to get something to eat from the kitchens, preparing herself for the trip, and possibly her first magic lesson.
Chapter Four
It didn't take long for them to fly away from High Roost, away from the grand, spiralling buildings and elegantly carved stone castles, to land in the Forest of Spells. The Wilderness held many places like this – magically enchanted areas which hosted a lot of artefacts, spells and witches, along with a fair share of monsters for Questers to defeat.
“This one is near to the Dark Clans,” Gerran informed her, as he plodded along in dragon form, preferring the protection of his scales in the dense woodlan
d. His feet crunched into grass and soil, and Esmer preferred to walk alongside him, easily keeping up with her boots of speed.
“What are the Dark Clans?” Esmer asked. Everyone knew about them growing up, but little information came to her in the form of who ran the clans, and what purpose they held.”
“Usually rogue societies,” Gerran said. “Humans who live in the Wilderness, pilfering from the kingdoms and selling to monsters, or monsters who have decided to throw in their lot with the clans. I don't know a great deal about them myself, but it's a lawless place. Not somewhere where you want to be found in the territory of.”
Esmer nodded, taking in the information, whilst keeping her eyes peeled for danger in the terrain. She knew that enchanted places in the Wilderness tended to be dangerous and monsters existed everywhere, seeking opportunities to grab unsuspecting princesses and drag them to unpleasant fates. Gerran seemed unconcerned about this, though he warned Esmer off the path once when there was a nice old lady on the side selling cupcakes.
“Come to me to my house, I have more delicious cupcakes for you,” the lady in the black hood declared. A beautiful, golden house shimmered on the side, and the cupcakes looked delicious and filling.
“Don't,” Gerran advised. “This is a classic bait. You'll be in her oven and turned into a cupcake in moments.”
“Uh,” Esmer said, smiling at the hooded woman before shuffling past her. They passed one other woman selling red apples, which Gerran informed her were likely Eternal Sleep apples, and a small frog hopped up to her from a river they trekked past, asking to be kissed so she could break the curse. The little frog even puckered his lips, waiting for the princess kiss.
“It's not a prince. It's a reverse curse,” Gerran said, sounding rather bored as the frog spat curses at him, before sinking into the river.
How many more events am I going to encounter, here? The dragon hesitated once at a monster guarding a bridge, who demanded they stop and fight him in combat if they wanted to pass.