Chapter 91

  She was unaccustomed to surrender. A good Admiral fought to her st breath. But when her wife suggested surrendering to the Dragons, she did it. She let the Moon in. Ael had been unprepared for the grief. The Moon had spent eons grieving her wife. And there she was, now, in Nereida’s flesh, so close, so far, broken but mending. She touched her wife’s face, not knowing, in that moment, if she were Ael or the Moon. But the overwhelming sensation of grief passed as her consciousness faded.

  When Ael’s mind was her own again, her body was distinctly not. Her body was long, covered in scales that shone in the glimmering pre-dawn light. She lifted a hand, found wickedly sharp cws. Her tongue, too long, darted over teeth that were too sharp. Moving was difficult, her body slow at first to respond. A tail, her tail, swished as if responding to her irritation. Nereida, or perhaps the Ocean Dragon, was curled around her. Night had come and gone, the moon chased from the sky by the sun. But even in the pale pink light, she had not yet regained her human form. Worry bubbled in her throat, when she felt a soothing presence, saw a vision of an hourgss that would run out when the sun had cleared the ocean. Ael nuzzled her wife, waking her. The crew on the ship’s deck were still caught in sleep, though a few of them stirred. Evander, or more accurately the dragon in his skin, strolled up to her. There was no fear or hatred on his face, though something that looked suspiciously like longing.

  “Beautiful,” he observed, reaching out at stroking her scales. She did not pull away, but only because she was not sure how much room she had, how to control the body safely. He gently stroked her scales, with what might have been tender affection. She felt a purr rise in her throat. But she was not a cat, and she cmped down on the instinct. “You have been graced with a gift, Moonlet. Don’t tarry. Take to the sky, fly, live!” Ael fluttered her wings, letting the instincts that churned inside her bubble to the surface. She saw Nereida open her eyes, saw two, beautiful stormy eyes that could belong to no other. She grinned at her sleepy wife, and fluttered upward.

  There was nothing quite like flying. She understood, now, why Epelda chose her wings over a healed hand or voice. The air rushed past her, loud like thunder. She could smell everything, the salty air, fish, gulls, even her unwashed crew. She dipped and twirled in the air, feeling truly free. Coming up behind her, her wings carrying her slightly less fast, was Nereida. They came together in the air, serpentine bodies wrapped around each other as their wings and magic kept them aloft. She could feel Nereida’s heart thumping against hers. She nuzzled her head into Nereida’s pale blue head. The dragon’s thick skin and heavy scales reduced sensation quite a lot, but she could smell Nereida’s scents more clearly than she had ever seen or felt anything in her life.

  Together, they rode the currents of the air. Nereida would occasionally plunge into the ocean, roaring with joy. She came up, wet, and tackled Ael pyfully, knocking her into the water as well. The dragon body Ael had was not designed to swim as Nereida’s was, and she fpped about like a wet pigeon before she managed to clear the water. She brought her tail down hard, spshing Nereida. The princess-turned-dragon rumbled out a chuckle.

  The sun was peeking ever higher, though, and so after a few glorious moments of py, they nded on the deck. It was only then that Ael realized that they had an audience. Roughly half the crew was awake, and every st set of eyes was on them. Nereida seemed unbothered by the attention, and she stopped to preen as she settled on the deck. Ael, however, could see their amazement, their worry and their worship. This was going to cause problems ter. Dragons’ saggy tits! Gazing out at them, she could smell some of them were different. Nearly a third of the crew that had slept beneath the new moon were dragonblooded, and their powers were waking, stirring, in a way that Ael could smell. She took note of their faces, of their names, so that the duty roster could be altered if they suffered from visions and fevers.

  The magic that held her in the dragon’s shape was fading. Ael curled into her wife, seeking her warmth and the comfort of her curves. As the magic faded and she was forced into a smaller body, everything seemed less somehow. As if the world had been scrubbed of colour, as if sounds were muted. The scents were all but gone, leaving Ael with a crushing loneliness that only abated when Nerieda’s hand slipped into hers. She saw Not-Evander watching them, his face set to a mask of indifference as if he had slipped into armour.

  “I understand, now,” Nereida whispered, “why you need us… why you need to be that.” She was looking at Not-Evander with sad eyes, and for a moment it seemed as if the dragon would show them true emotion. Instead, he turned away from them, as if ashamed.

  The moment of tranquility shattered like a wine gss, and the crew was suddenly alive with questions, fear and chaos. Ael blew her whistle once, a command for attention, and years of service, years of dedication, quieted anxious tongues. She stepped forward, taking Nereida’s hand. Nereida followed her, staying quiet at her side.

  “We are not dragons,” Ael called out. “But they do live in us. I am not sure for how long, or why. But I am sure that Ocean and Moon mean us no harm. That they watch over us. All of us.” There was a low murmur, and she could almost taste their fear in the air. She lifted her hand up, dragging Nereida’s up with it. “We are with you,” she decred. “The Siren Princess and the Admiral.” The murmuring quieted, at least for now. Ael squeezed her wife’s hand, before finally letting their hands drop.

  “Do you want me with you?” Nereida asked, her face full of anxiety.

  “No, love. This is my crew, they are my responsibility. You see to our children, and I will see to the ones who are waking up with magic, with identity changed. You’ve always known who you are. They… we… haven’t.” Ael smiled at her, resisting the urge to kiss her wife in front of everyone, to show her appreciation for Nereida’s strength. There would be time for that ter. Now, she had folks to help.

  Unfortunately, Not-Evander followed her to the stairs.

  “Might I have a word, Admiral?” She stopped and turned to face the Great Dragon, crossing her arms and summoning her grumpiest expression.

  “Talk.” He smirked at her.

  “The skies have been too clear in the morning, and I have not yet regained enough power to form a new body. But your hatchling will likely arrive in a fortnight. I recommend, Admiral, that you find some rock or port to set in before that. If she has any destruction in her nature, you’d not want this little toy to sink.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, Moon’s Daughter, I wish to be there. She will be the first new hatchling since the Twins. I will stand back, far enough that she imprints on you and your wife, and not on me. But this is momentous.” She paused, trying to see what game he was pying. But the dragon let no emotion shine through on Evander’s normally expressive face.

  “I will speak to my wife. This is not a decision to make on my own. She is our daughter too.”

  “Of course, Moon’s Daughter.”

  The Admiral walked among her crew, calming minds by giving them tasks, or by listening, depending on who it was that needed help. She carefully rounded up those that she had scented as dragon-blooded, as well as her daughter. Epelda looked at her with a guarded expression, as if she was worried that the Moon was in control, not Ael. She couldn’t expin it to her now, not with so many ears, so many that wouldn’t understand.

  “They are to be taken off duty for the next two days,” Ael said firmly. There were several compints, and a few hurt expressions. The Admiral held up her hand. “None of you were possessed the night of the New Moon or before, but when the visions start to come it is rough. They will come fast and without warning. You might feel like you are drowning in them.” She grimaced at the memory. “You won’t be fit for duty for a night or two, but then they will subside, and you will be able to sense things with less… drama.”

  “But, Admiral,” young Palium muttered. He went red to the tips of his hair. Palium was the youngest on the crew other than Epelda, barely into manhood himself. She didn’t think he’d spoken more than a dozen words to her before now, even with him being on their ship a whole year. “We are crew!” She heard the unspoken plea: don’t turn us away.

  “You are,” she assured him, her tone fierce. “And I protect and keep what is mine. I will not have my crew suffering. And if you try to stay awake, try to fight the visions, you will suffer. This is not a punishment. I swear.”

  There was a tense moment, but they agreed eventually, to take it easy, to tell her or one of the other officers if visions began. One of them asked if his lover could be excused from duty as well, so that they had at least one person dedicated to caring for those trapped in visions.

  “Yes,” the Admiral made a sharp gesture at Epelda, and the young captain jogged off to scribble down the changes.

  The rest of the day passed in a dizzying flurry. It wasn’t until nearly sunset that Ael allowed herself any time to think, to mourn how amazing flying could be. She stood on the deck, alone, watching the sun disappear beneath the horizon. She felt Epelda come up behind her. She turned away from the calm, simple sunset, to face her daughter.

  “You still have your dragon!” Epelda’s signs were quick, angry and sharp.

  “I think, daughter, that the dragon still has me, not the other way around.” She kept her voice even, knowing that responding to the young woman with frustration would only make things worse.

  “I thought you were free!” These words came slower, and there was pain, guilt, on Epelda’s face as she signed. “Sorry… Sorry…. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Epelda.” Ael caught her daughter’s hand before she could sign a fourth “sorry”. Above them, a gull cried out; noisy, nasty gulls. “They aren’t like your dragon was. They only take over occasionally, or when we, well, call for them. Last night was necessary.”

  “You weren’t you!” Her words were still fast, her expression anguished. A thousand little expressions pyed over the young woman’s face as she tried to express her fear and worry.

  “No, I suppose I wasn’t,” Ael replied. She pulled her daughter into a tight hug, careful not to touch the fragile looking wings. Epelda leaned in. Ael had half expected sobs or the manic ugh that her wife frequently broke with. Instead, Epelda’s body rexed, her wings fluttering. “But I am me now.”

  “You turned into a dragon, mom.” The words were shaky, pressed against her chest. “Are you… are you the body for the Moon?”

  “No, of course not,” Ael replied. “Moon has a body.” She motioned upward to the heavens, though the moon had set. The air was warming as the sun rose. Still, her daughter’s words sat heavy on her heart.

  How much had the Moon changed her? Nereida would know. She had to.

  Once Epelda had gained her stability back, she gave Ael a fierce hug of her own, and stood up. She straightened her shirt, squared her shoulders and offered Ael a smile that was too bright, a politician’s smile.

  “I’m alright,” she lied as she gestured. Ael did not call out her daughter’s lie. She’d leave the young woman her dignity, even if it turned out that she was likely off to seek soce in her beau. “I’ll see to the roster now, Admiral.”

  Ael nodded crisply, not trusting her voice as she watched her daughter head to the cabin where Nereida and the boys were likely eating breakfast. She supposed she should eat. But the thought of bean porridge made her stomach rebel. Instead, she went to find her other standing officers, so that they could alter course slightly. They needed a safe pce for the baby to hatch.