The nights in the northern forest were long and peaceful. At least that was my experience; with me around, anything with a survival instinct stayed well away. But the nights were also chilly, and we had a watch rotation to keep the fire going, if nothing else.

  I took a watch, just like everyone else. Nobody asked me to, and I was sure that it wasn’t expected of me, but I really didn’t mind. It wasn’t any kind of hardship; with so many people there, the watches were short. The only one who was exempt was Maglan, who was supposed to be recovering. Thus, I was very curious when the young man in question emerged from the tent he shared with Herald.

  I watched him in silence as he approached me, wrapped in a blanket. He sat down on a log, not across the fire from me but only a few feet to my side, and I wondered how he’d escaped. There was a rosemary-infused soap that Herald liked to use, and which always clung to her when you had a nose as sensitive as mine. Now the scent of that soap was all over him, and I could imagine her falling asleep with her arms around him, holding him tight, happy to be able to just spend a night with him for the first time since the border heated up and the regiments marched south.

  “I need to ask you something,” he said, the words coming out hesitantly as he looked into the fire instead of at me.

  “Sure. I won’t promise to answer, but you can always ask.”

  He nodded slowly and said, “Fair,” still staring into the fire. I could tell that he wanted to say more, and he was either deciding how to express himself or working up the courage. Maybe both. Whatever it was, it took him a good half minute before he said, “Herald’s different.”

  Ah. This was going to be an important conversation. I shifted around a little, settling in a little closer to the ground and lowering my head so I wasn’t looking down on him quite as much. “A lot has happened in the last year,” I told him. “To her. To her family. To you. And there’s me. It would be strange if she hadn’t changed. So what was it that dragged you away from her arms to speak to me?”

  The logs snapped and crackled, the firelight dancing on his face as he took his time. I might have thought that he was afraid, but even with the fire and the forest around us and Herald’s soap on him, I would have been able to smell the fear on him. There was none. No more than any human in my presence, anyway.

  “Nothing that I love about her has changed,” he said finally. “She’s still so smart, and strong, and beautiful, and full of fire that I don’t know why she’s with me. Her eyes… well, I loved her eyes, but I think that would be true no matter how they look. But there’s a violence in her that I never saw before.”

  “She’s been hurt,” I told him carefully, not sure how much Herald had shared. “The people around her have been hurt. And she’s discovered that she can fight back. I know what you mean, but I don’t know if the violence is new, or if it was just hidden by a veil of fear and doubt that isn’t there anymore.” I hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Did she tell you about the two bandits that we met on the road, half a year ago?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice gravelly with remembered emotion. “When I was back, right before the war kicked off, she told me.”

  “That’s where it started, I think. There, or with the gremlins, but I don’t think she really counted those. She learned that she has it in her to kill a man. She did it again, a little later.”

  “The bandit camp, with the Wolves.”

  “Right. There’s been a few since then. And it’s been easier for her each time. She hasn’t cried about it in her sleep for a while now.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’ve seen all types, ever since things went to shit down there. For some it gets easier. For some it never does. And some just break. If this is how her life is now… I guess I’m glad she’s in the first group.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. I didn’t tell him about my own suspicions, that being so close to me was changing her, making her more like me… or more like Instinct. And to be fair to myself, I couldn’t know that for sure. I wouldn’t pretend that it had nothing at all to do with me, but it was entirely possible that my influence was indirect; that her growing power was strengthening her confidence and bringing things out that she’d always had in her, or that it was a reaction to the violence I’d exposed her to. I didn’t think so. I was pretty sure that it was some kind of draconic magic, worming its way into her and changing her to make her more useful to me, as much as I hated the idea. But I couldn’t know for sure, and whatever it was, at least it let her sleep at night.

  “But there was something else, too,” Maglan said. This time he looked at me, and there was something… again, not quite fearful, but very uncertain in his eyes. Uncertain but determined, like he didn’t want to say any more but he had to. “Sometimes, when she speaks, there’s a… a presence to her. Not when we were just talking, but when one of the healers’ assistants came to ask us to pipe down, and Herald told her to go f— uh, to leave us alone, I mean — Mercies, I could have sworn you were in there with us. That poor woman just about ran out of the tent, she was so scared. And that was…”

  He trailed off, looking at me like he expected me to fill the silence he left. I didn’t. I waited, watching him patiently until he spoke again. “When I say it was like you were there with us, I mean it. There’s a… a weight to your presence. I feel it now, and I felt it then. And I’m not sharp like Herald is — I know that — but I’m no fool, either. I know that being around you is doing something to her. I don’t think I want to know how deep that goes, but judging by her eyes? Pretty deep. I just… I know you care for her, but I have to ask, right? I always got the feeling that you don’t see any need to lie, so I have to ask. Whatever you’re doing— whatever being around you is doing to her… I can’t stop thinking of that mercenary we captured. How she was, after you took her aside. It’s not hurting her, is it?”

  There it was. The million dollar question. And along with it came the scent of fear. It had been one thing, just coming out here to talk to me — to tell me what was weighing him down. But to ask me if I was hurting Herald, intentionally or not? To bring up what he’d seen me do to Tammy? That scared him. Which just went to show that he was right: he was no fool. Too brave for his own good, perhaps — I could easily see that line of questioning ending poorly for him if I’d had less of a handle on my emotions — but smart enough to be afraid that he’d provoke me.

  He still went ahead and asked, and that earned him a healthy chunk of respect in my eyes. And it told me something else, to my enormous relief. Something I’d been too timid to ask Herald about — too ashamed to admit that I might even suspect her of. It told me that Maglan didn’t think that Herald was perfect and invincible. He was still free to doubt her.

  Whatever effect Herald had on Maglan, she hadn’t bound him to her.

  “No,” I told him, and I wondered what he made of the gratitude in my voice. “I’d never hurt Herald. Not on purpose. And as far as I know I’m not doing it without meaning to, either. I promise. Now get back in that tent and help the girl we both love sleep.”

  He looked me in the eyes. I looked back. I wasn’t sure what he was searching for. Few people could read me, and as far as I knew, he wasn’t one of them. But apparently he was satisfied with what he saw. “Thank you,” he breathed, his shoulders falling as he relaxed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  “Yeah. Sleep tight.”

  The next morning, Herald and Maglan were inseparable. They kept finding reasons to touch each other affectionately, too, and for some inscrutable reason they tried to be sneaky about it; sitting close with their legs pressed together, gently and intentionally bumping into each other, that sort of thing. It was as adorable as it was pointless. As though anyone could have missed what they were doing. As though anyone would have said anything if Herald had simply sat down in Mag’s lap — or maybe he in hers; she was a bit taller than him, after all, and he was supposed to be recovering from his injuries. The worst they might have gotten was a smirk or a jealous glance.

  Besides, there were three other couples in that group that were just tooth-achingly sweet! As though Maglan running his hand down Herald’s arm when they thought no one was looking was anything compared to Val carefully brushing out Tam’s hair, or Ardek feeding a blushing Kira pieces of dried fruit as they waited for the morning porridge — or, for a more explicit example, Marvan simply pushing his wife up against a tree and kissing her breathless in front of everyone.

  Yeah, nobody there was going to blush over a little hand-holding.

  Speaking of Sarina and Marvan, I’d wondered how they’d react to their mistress suddenly having a special someone around. Very well, as it turned out. They hadn’t done much more than introduce themselves the previous night, what with Mak and Kira taking care of Maglan and then sending him right to bed, but that morning the married couple set about befriending him. They weren’t at all aggressive about it, either; it was all little things, like asking for help with serving out the porridge, or offering to take down his and Herald’s tent while they picked out the right bow for him from the spares. Subtle, but easy to spot if you were watching them all curiously.

  Honestly, subtle enough that it might not be so much them trying to get in good with their mistress’ consort, as it was them just being decent, friendly people. They had tried to plunder my hoard, so I had a hard time believing that, but I could admit that it might, just maybe, be possible.

  Romance and friendly overtures aside, the travelling party took care of their morning routines and broke camp quickly and efficiently. They were back on the road within an hour of everyone rising, setting an easy pace that they’d probably need to stick to for the next day or two, so as not to push Mag too hard. As for me, I said my goodbyes and left to find Mother.

  As it so often did, the idea of talking to my mother had me on edge. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the conversation I needed to have with her, which would have been fine if I had any way of coercing her into accepting my wishes, but I didn’t. She was simply so much stronger than me that all I could do was to ask very politely and hope that she’d either see things my way, or acquiesce just to make me happy.

  Perhaps I could have simply not told her about my plans, but Mother was a clever old girl. I expected to spend a few days at least away from my humans, and she knew how attached I was to them. She’d know that something was up if I didn’t check up on them regularly, the way I had been ever since we left Karakan, and then she’d come looking for me and I’d have to explain anyway. No, it was better to be upfront with her about what I planned to do, and to ask her to look after them when I couldn’t. It couldn’t hurt to try — she’d already sort of offered to do so, and having her around to keep the monsters away really would be a relief, no matter how capable my humans were.

  My biggest concern with the conversation I hoped to have with Mother — if I could only find her — was that I wouldn’t be the one holding it. As we crossed the mountains, turning south over unfamiliar hills, over forests and rivers I’d never seen before that flowed into the sea west of Mallin, I made sure that Instinct had everything straight.

  What I wanted her to convey was this: we’d be taking part in the war, and trying to either turn it around or at least stop the Happarran advance. We were very emphatically not asking Mother to involve herself, but would be very grateful if she’d keep an eye on our humans, who still had dozens of miles of increasingly difficult terrain to travel through before they’d reach the ruins of Malyon. We wouldn’t let General Sarvalian or anyone else abuse our good will, and we’d use every trick we had to stay safe, so there was no need for her to worry. That was it. Simple. So simple, in fact, that after the third time I tried to go over it Instinct snapped, and threatened in no uncertain terms to expose myself and Conscience to Mother if I didn’t shut up and leave her in peace.

  You need to give Scaly some space, Conscience told me, much more gently than her usual enthusiastic scolding. She handled Embers just fine back at Lady’s Rest, and she can handle this, yeah? Besides, do you really want to bet that she’s bluffing?

  She never had a problem misleading Mother, I reminded her.

  Sure. Yeah. But has she ever bluffed with us?

  I thought about it for a moment then told her, Fine. I’ll back off. I wasn’t happy about it, though.

  Listen, Conscience said, slipping back into her normal, lecturing tone, don’t be so pissy about it, yeah? You can either trust Scaly to handle things, or you can turn south and let Embers think what she will. Me, I say you trust her. Scaly may be a giant, arrogant bitch on the best of days, but she’s fair dinkum. A lot more than you’ve given her credit for, anyway. And this, us all together in one head, there’s no reason to think it’s not permanent. We’re going to be spending a long time together, unless the two of you go and get us killed. Just look at Embers! She’s what, seven hundred years old or something? If that’s what we’ve got to look forward to, we’d better get along, right?

  My mind might have reeled a bit when she said that. Seven hundred years? I mean, I’d known, on some level. I’d had all the pieces. I was a dragon. Mother had told me several times how old she was. She’d told me that the other dragons around us, even those she’d called young, were probably one or two centuries old. I just hadn’t really thought about what that meant for me.

  My human half was twenty-six when she cracked her head open and stole Instinct’s body. Instinct had very little in the way of coherent memories from before then, so that was as far back as my memories stretched. Twenty-six was in no way old, but the fifty or sixty years that woman might have had to look forward to if she hadn’t lived such a careless life had felt like forever. And with so much of my conscious mind coming from her, I was stuck on the same kind of time scale. In fifty years, my gut told me, I’d be old. Everyone I knew would be old. Some of them would likely be long dead.

  But that was only half right. Sure, in fifty years, Mak and Tam would be in their seventies, and Herald in her sixties. But me? In dragon terms, I’d be an adolescent at best. In a hundred years I’d be a young adult, and everyone I knew would be gone. Everyone except, if we were both lucky, Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flame.

  Mak, Tam, and Val. Kira and Ardek. Barro and Jekrie and Zabra and goddamn Tammy and everyone else, they’d all be gone.

  Herald would be gone. And I’d have to live for hundreds of years without her.

  No. Nope. Nah. I couldn’t deal with that. Those thoughts were absolutely not welcome, not now, not ever.

  Yeah, I told my two head mates, too stunned by my own line of thoughts to do anything but agree. Yeah, you’re right. Instinct’s going to do fine.

  “I could have told you that before the first time you lectured me,” Instinct grumbled. There was no such thing as privacy among the three of us. “I wish to get to this war as much as you do, and I want our servants safe. Just leave me be unless something happens!”

  Soon enough, a speck appeared in the distant sky, growing larger and larger. I gave Instinct control — full control. No filter. We approached cautiously, ready to run until we recognized Mother’s fiery brass, the steadily climbing sun glinting off her scales. Then, for a few minutes, Instinct reverted to the overgrown infant that she was. She excitedly flew loops and circles around our mother, who slowed down and watched our antics with every sign of fondness and satisfaction that I could recognize in a dragon.

  Honestly, it was heartwarming. Instinct was, as Conscience put it, a giant, scaly, arrogant bitch on the best of days, but my heart would have to have been made of stone not to melt at her overflowing joy every time she got to spend time with her mother. A bad choice of metaphor, perhaps, considering what I’d seen Mother do, but still.

  Then Mother landed, choosing a wide, green meadow, and it was time to pray that my trust in Instinct wasn’t misplaced.

  and get 8 chapters early. You also get all ninety-plus finished chapters of my other story, , and anything else I’m trying out.

  Join us if you want to chat with other readers, or just hang out!