“You’ve grown,” Alanna said, looking up at me.

  “Have I?”

  “At least a foot taller since just a few days ago.”

  “Well, it’s no secret that I grow in bursts.” I didn’t elaborate.

  “Right,” she said, giving me a slight, disappointed pout. “What did you want to talk about that needs to be said in private?”

  “Nothing in particular. I just thought it would be nice not to have an audience.”

  “Really? No complaints? Nothing to report? No secret message for the lord commander?”

  “Nah,” I said, walking over to the landward parapet and lying down. “I just wanted to meet you. See how you were doing. And Mak was feeling guilty about just leaving, too.”

  “Oh!” I wasn’t looking at Alanna, but I could hear her surprise, and the smile on her face.

  “Come here,” I said, thumping the rooftop beside me with my tail. When she joined me, resting her hands on the tall stone edge, I said, “Some view, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “I try to come up here whenever I’ve had reason to come to the Citadel.”

  There really was a great view of the harbor and the city from up there. With how the hill of the High City sloped, I could see the roof of the Tesprils’ estate, and I wondered how they were doing. We’d sent a note that we’d be out of the city for a while, but nothing more. I should check in on them, I thought, and as always I was struck by the discordance of that thought with how we’d ever come to be associated with each other. By all rights I should hate Zabra and be at worst completely indifferent to Kesra. If anything I should perhaps feel some kind of vicious gratitude to the younger Tespril for the abuse she’d inflicted on her sister. Instead I felt a constant, low-grade concern for the woman who’d been ultimately responsible for my capture and the torture of my sisters, and I couldn’t think about Kesra without the thought of violence sparking in the back of my mind. It defied all logic, but that’s how it was. I’d changed Zabra, and in so doing I’d changed myself.

  “What do you know about me?” I asked. And it was just like when I’d asked Herald and Mak if they wanted to come along. The words just came from nowhere, slipping out without ever passing through my conscious mind.

  “You’re a dragon,” she said cautiously, making me huff with amusement.

  “Noticed that, did you? Well done.”

  “You’re cleverer and more open to reason than dragons are generally thought to be. You like humans, with a special soft spot for children. You seem to value fairness and justice, at least within some limits. And you grow monstrously— Sorry—!” Her head snapped in my direction, and she looked at me with dismay as she caught herself. “You grow shockingly fast, I should say. My apologies, I really didn’t—”

  “Nah, no worries.” It didn’t bother me; I knew she didn’t mean anything by her thoughtless choice of words. “But that’s a report. What do you know about me?”

  “You’re loyal,” she said after a beat. “You came to the Citadel, and you basically threatened war on the city and refused to leave until everyone could leave with you.”

  “I did, didn’t I? But that could just be me being a possessive bitch.”

  She didn’t respond to that. Instead she said, “You’re generous.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “When the staff here came to serve your people a meal, you didn’t hesitate to demand that my guards be served, too. There was no reason for you to do that but kindness and generosity.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t deny that her compliment pleased me. “I do enjoy flattery,” I told her, only half joking. “What else?”

  “You also enjoy violence.”

  That gave me pause. “Why do you think so?”

  She frowned and said, “It’s going to sound like a report.”

  “Fine. I’d like to know, though.”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this openly, but you’re smart enough to have guessed. The Council has quite a collection of intelligence on you, Lady Draka. But of all that, I think I’d pick three events that show your bloodlust. First, a few months ago, when Misters Tamor and Valmik were coming ashore from the Laughing Gull, their launch was almost intercepted by another boat. You killed almost every person on that boat, including most of the rowers.”

  I winced on the inside. The fighters I didn’t care about, but I wasn’t proud of killing those rowers even if they had been working for Zabra. Though in my defense, that had been mostly Instinct.

  “Second,” she continued, “some time later a warehouse in the poorer parts of the docks was attacked, and most of the gang that controlled it was slaughtered. One of the survivors pointed to you as being directly responsible, and when we investigated the place we found a black scale of a size and shape to match yours. Judging by how high on the walls the blood had reached, it must have been an absolute nightmare.”

  “I liked it better when you were flattering me.”

  “And third, you decimated the White Cranes as they left the city. An officer of the Gray Wolves said that she spoke with you, before and after. She described you as ‘impatient to get to fighting’ and ‘inordinately pleased with the carnage she’d wrought’. That sounds to me like someone who loves to fight.”

  “Hey, now, that’s unfair. I just didn’t want them to get away. And when I talked to her afterward, I’d just grabbed a big bag of gold and silver. Of course I was ‘inordinately pleased’ or whatever she said!”

  “And the other two incidents?”

  “They deserved it.”

  “Maybe they did,” Alanna conceded. “Do you deny that you enjoyed it?”

  I looked out across the city. I knew roughly where in the harbor I’d killed the Night Blossom’s pirates, and If I’d had Herald’s eyes I might have been able to pick out the warehouse where the South Docks Gang had been holed up after attacking my Tesprils. I thought back on both of those “incidents,” as Alanna called them. They’d barely even been worthy of calling them fights; they’d been explosions of brutal violence, each lasting only dozens of seconds before all opposition had been ground down. What had I felt then? Not much, to be honest. But Instinct had certainly enjoyed herself. “I suppose not,” I conceded. “And I can’t honestly say that dropping a big bloody chunk of the coastline on the White Cranes didn’t amuse me, either. Is that a problem?”

  “No,” she said, turning to look out across the city. After a thoughtful silence she continued, “to be perfectly honest, I envy you. I hate violence. It’s necessary sometimes, and I’m good at it, but I hate it.”

  “Are you?” I asked. My surprise probably wasn’t fair, but it was honest.

  “You didn’t expect that?” she asked wryly, turning my way. And I must not have bothered to look properly before, because now the squareness of her shoulders and the definition on her forearms stood out clearly.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Honestly, no,” I said. I continued with, “I figured…” but trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence without being unnecessarily insulting.

  “You figured that because I’m a young woman, and I was handed this rank because of who my grandfather is, I never had to actually learn to fight?” She gave a single, mirthless bark of a laugh. “Lady Draka, my father’s father may be a lawyer and a politician, but my mother’s mother was a tribune of the army, and her father a priest of the Warrior. I’ve learned the sword, the spear, and the dagger since my naming day. And don’t misunderstand me; the fact that I hate actual, life-and-death violence has never stopped me from improving my skills. I enjoy the practice, and I enjoy sparring. I just don’t want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it, and the rare occasion when I do would be much easier if I could just not care.”

  “It’s pretty convenient, yeah,” I said awkwardly.

  It wasn’t her age or gender; considering the women I knew here — Lalia and Rib, Darim, Mak and Herald, hell, even Zabra and Tammy — it would have been ridiculous to assume that she couldn’t fight because of either. But she was right that I’d unconsciously assumed that since she hadn’t had to work for her rank, she probably lacked other qualifications, too. Such as knowing her way around a sword.

  I couldn't berate myself too much, though. There was just nothing violent about her. Determination, sure, and some fair amount of confidence, performative and otherwise, but compared to Lalia? Now that I’d looked closer at Alanna, their builds were similar. So was the way they held themselves. But with Lalia you could just always tell that she was spoiling for a fight. There was a ready violence in her; not out of control, but there and available at a moment’s notice.

  Alanna just didn't have that. And it made sense; she simply disliked violence.

  “We could help her with that,” Instinct whispered, reminding me what an amoral little shoulder devil she was. “Makanna learned quickly. I am sure this one would, too.”

  Yeah, nah, we’re not doing that, I pushed back. Conscience silently approved. You know that. If she joins us freely, that’s great, but there’s no reason to break her.

  Instinct huffed. “There is every reason. She is well placed and connected, and by her own words she is skilled at fighting. And we all like her. What more reason do you need?”

  We’re not discussing this! Conscience and I agree: we’re not breaking, or claiming, or enthralling anyone who isn’t an enemy!

  Instinct didn’t bite back. She just slunk off to the back of our mind, either to sulk or to entertain herself watching one of our servants.

  Such a baby! Conscience muttered under her mental breath. It was entirely for dramatic effect, too, since volume wasn’t a real thing inside our shared head. That, and Instinct’s seething silence, only made it funnier.

  It took a valiant effort not to laugh, which would have been rather inappropriate when we were talking about Alanna’s dislike of stabbing people. I managed to restrain myself to a soft snort and a draconic narrowing of my eyes in amusement.

  Alanna either didn’t notice or chose not to comment. “The reports say that you all went north,” she said instead, changing the subject.

  “Yeah. The idea was for my House to be safe, so heading towards the war seemed counterproductive.”

  “Your House,” she mused. “It is, isn’t it? You really see each other as family. Lady Drakonum adores you. So does her sister, and her brother and Mister Valmik both like, respect, and admire you. If anyone just told me that— I mean, if I hadn’t seen for myself, if I hadn’t met you and spoken with them, I would have called it a dragon cult. To be entirely honest, that’s what I thought when you came to the Citadel to fetch them. But then—”

  “But then?” I prompted.

  “I’m not sure how to put this delicately.”

  “You may have noticed, but I’m not one to stand on formality or diplomatic language. Go on! Out with it!”

  “Well…” she said, caught between awkward silence and amusement. “Young Lady Herald and Miss Kira used you as a couch, all right? They used you the way our cats would curl up on anyone who made the mistake of lying down in the atrium. It’s hard to think that they worship you after seeing that.”

  Wow, I thought. She started from the right conclusion and argued herself out of it. It would have been funny, but I felt kind of bad about not correcting her. I didn’t call it a cult; I wasn’t even entirely onboard with calling it a flock, the way Mother did. In my mind it was all just my House. But there was no doubt that Mak worshipped me as much as she did the Mercies, and I was pretty sure that Tammy would curse any god I asked her to. And Herald and Kira were so comfortable with me because they knew that I enjoyed the closeness. It was for my sake that they’d been so affectionate while we waited for the Council to sort their shit out; for my comfort and peace of mind. The fact that they enjoyed it too was secondary.

  At least that was the poison that Conscience happily dripped in my ear whenever I let myself enjoy a good cuddle. I tried not to let it get to me.

  “So where are you taking them?” she asked. I became acutely aware that I hadn’t responded for a long while, but Alanna was clearly not one to let an uncomfortable silence fester. “If you want to keep them safe, north seems as bad as south to me.”

  Honestly, I was glad for her steering the conversation. I wasn’t at my best, and the whole point of meeting her had been to get closer to her. She didn’t seem like the manipulative sort, so letting her lead was a good way to build up her comfort level with me. “Nah, it’s safe enough,” I said. “For us, at least. Monsters stay away from me, and even when I’m not around I’m confident that they can take on anything that might bother them.”

  “You wouldn’t have to take them to the front, though. There are plenty of peaceful towns and villages between there and Karakan.”

  “Peaceful for now,” I said, and I couldn’t help my tone becoming grim. The front moved further north every time I saw it. The Karakani line never broke, but it kept getting pushed back, mile by mile, river by river.

  “Peaceful for now,” she agreed. “So? Where are you all going? Will you tell me?”

  I looked down at her. “You’re pushy, you know that? What happened to the scared woman I met in the hall downstairs?”

  “Oh, she’s still in here,” she said, knocking on her chest with her knuckles, right above her heart. “But that was before I spent several hours over a few days speaking with Lady Drakonum — with Makanna, I mean. She told me a lot about you, and one thing she said was that you don’t like sycophants. You prefer openness and honesty. And I honestly want to know. I’m curious. I’ve barely been to the forest myself, but Makanna told me about all kinds of adventures you’ve had, there and in the mountains. Is that what you’re doing now? Going off on some adventure until things settle here?”

  “I suppose it is,” I said, deciding to take a tiny gamble and trust her. It wasn’t like her knowing our destination could do any real harm. “If you must know, we’re going to Old Mallin.”

  Alanna gaped at me, and I couldn’t help but grin right back at her. To her credit she didn’t shy away from all the teeth I put on display.

  “Old Mallin?” she asked slowly. “The ancient, ruined city in the north? The death-trap from which few have ever returned? You want them to be safe, and you’re taking them to Old Mallin?!”

  Her volume stayed level, but from her first word her pitch grew steadily higher, her voice more strained, until she finished on a strangled, disbelieving squeak. And as she spoke my grin grew steadily wider and more feral, until I felt the wind on my gums and the strain in my cheeks.

  “Oh, yes,” I told her. “And they’re all looking forward to it immensely. Herald’s already been there, twice. Benefits of being close to a dragon.”

  “You’ve been there. You’ve been in the ancient city?!” Her excitement burst out of her, and she took two quick steps closer before remembering who I was, who she was, and her role. She looked around quickly, confirming that we were alone, and that was her only concession to any kind of propriety. “What’s it like? What have you seen?”

  “It’s ruined, except for some buildings which are amazingly preserved,” I told her, managing against all odds to sound coy. Her excitement was infectious, and it was all I could do not to tell her everything. “There are all kinds of monsters who know better than to get close to me. And as for what we’ve seen… House secrets, I’m afraid. Alanna, I like you, but you’re not quite there yet.”

  She hid her crushing disappointment much better than her eagerness. I got the impression that she had a lot of practice hiding that emotion. But she didn’t hide it perfectly. It was only there for a moment, but I caught it. And in that brief moment, I knew that we had her. We could offer her friendship, acceptance, and excitement. It was only a matter of time.

  I looked forward to it, in a shameful way that I quashed ruthlessly. I couldn't say when I’d started feeling possessive toward her, but I knew myself well enough to know that was what it was. At some point I’d decided that she belonged with us. The fact that I’d refused to force the issue, that I wanted her to make an independent choice, was just so I wouldn't hate myself.

  At some point I’d decided that she belonged to me. I’d refused to force the issue so far. I hadn’t given myself another nagging reason to hate myself yet.

  I wondered how long that would last.

  Mercies, I hoped that she’d make the right choice.

  “Will you tell me, some day?” she asked, and I knew, though I couldn’t say how, that a lifetime of silent hope hung in the balance, ready to shatter or not depending on my answer.

  “If you play your cards right, I’ll even take you there,” I said, and while she avoided another outburst, her eyes shone brighter than ever.

  Oh yes. I had her.

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