I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) by Marc Secchia (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

“I would not put anything past the pair of you – Dragon and Dragon Rider. Who would have thought?”

The Princess said, “The flame for justice burns bright in my Dragon.”

His muzzle quivered as he considered her words. Did it? Judging by her sharp inhale, the insight appeared to strike her with unexpected force.

Then, the Princes burst into their parents’ chamber like a hurricane.

Quietly, he padded away to take King Azerim to the ground floor infirmary. He popped Chanize into her rolling chair while the servants came with ladders to unstrap the King from his back. Meantime, King Varazim made an impromptu speech from his balcony thanking everyone for their concern and assuring them that order was indeed restored to the island kingdom.

He prodded the Sankir in the ribs. “Where will you take her?”

“There might be a private apartment available in the Palace servants’ quarters, near mine,” he said. “It’s located on the ground floor. I’ll need to prod a few people to install ramps where needed, as the floor is not entirely even. We’ll work out the details.”

Chanize put in, “I’m not sure what my future holds, as yet.”

Clasped hands. Unconscious closeness. Smiles. Here came this ridiculous Human behaviour again, the pretence that something which most definitely existed, could not even be mentioned. Yet it was delicate, a bud that should not be disturbed.

Not even by a dictatorial paw.

Clearing his throat, he waggled a talon beneath her nose. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, young lady. After all, I do not indulge in the kidnapping of exceptional damsels for no good reason.”

“I am hardly a damsel in distress,” Azania put in bluntly.

“Watch this eye roll I’m about to make,” he teased. “Can’t you even pretend? Just for one minute?”

“You’re already insufferable.”

“Very good.”

As the Sankir wheeled Chanize away to help her settle in, the Princess murmured, “Oh, would you look at how he’s taken command of her wheelchair? How gallant.”

Every bit as dryly, he said, “Very honourable of our Sankir – gnarr-harr-harr.”

Mwaa-haa-harr, she agreed, making several of the nearby servants look at her very strangely indeed.

Together, they walked King Azerim over to the royal infirmary. Dragon made himself a nuisance by insisting that the wide windows be kept open, the better for him to lurk near the royal personage and wreak, according to the doctors, despicable draconic misdeeds about the place.

Use his magic, in other words.

No, he was no Inzashu-N’shula. Compared to her rapier skills, he was a large club wielded by a clumsy paw. However, from the window he could reach over and touch Azerim and strengthen him; one of the nurses shortly admitted that after he did that, the young King did breathe easier and his temperature came down a few notches.

Azania busied herself at a desk in the corner – meant to be a nurses’ station, he understood – writing up their most recent adventures, and also making a list of Dragon-related topics she needed to discuss with the King. Taking her Roving Ambassadorial job very seriously indeed. Dragon propped his muzzle on the windowsill and amused himself by suggesting alternative wordings in a few places. Well, every few sentences. Just to keep the quill-wielding scamp honest.

After an hour, she stretched and came over to chat with him, leaning on the windowsill facing the world outside the window, where Ignis was doing his best to set the sky afire. Gorgeous early evening. The vibrant reds and bonfire oranges made his paws itch to be painting.

“Do you think the Palace would be willing to source me canvas, an easel and painting equipment?” he asked. “I assume we’ll be marooned here for a few days at least, getting the King back on his feet.”

“Aria didn’t say how long she’d be delayed?”

The King’s hand twitched on the bedlinens. One advantage of having widely separated eyes with a broad field of vision, like most predators enjoyed, was that he could appreciate the suns setting to one side whilst keeping a check on Azerim on the other. The young King lay propped up on wide linen cushions in a comfortable wooden bed. His wounded leg had been fixed by a sling raised by a pulley on the ceiling. Terribly uncomfortable position, Dragon felt. He wore no shirt, for several other wounds upon his chest, back and shoulders had required attention. The medical staff had openly wondered how strongly he had resisted his kidnappers, for many of the wounds betrayed perhaps several beatings he must have suffered; a large bruise was purpling up a treat on the left side of his face, spreading from the point of his jaw right up to his ear.

He said, “No, but she implied it’ll be several days at least. It’s challenging to position the Dragonesses for something new when the factions are so divided.”

Moodily, she added, “Azerim had my picture up in his chambers. His brothers took great pleasure in telling me.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“I think they desperately want … well, instant romance, to be perfectly honest.” Over on the bed, a pair of clear green eyes cracked open. In Azerim’s deeply tanned face, the colour was a startling flash of light, like the green-blue of shallow ocean waters dappling over white sands. “The King and Queen are already treating me like the daughter they never had, and it’s –”

She bit her lip.

“Hard? I can only imagine,” he said gently.

“I never had anything like this with my parents. I never knew my mother, really, and father – well, you know how beautifully that went.” The Princess shook her curls, drawing the young King’s attention. “Do you think he’ll even remember a girl he once met? It’s been five years. I was twelve, then, and … things change. People change, Dragon. Just look at us.”

As she spoke, the royal eyes lit upon the Princess with yearning so