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

and paint my fingernails – is that too much to ask?”

“Aye,” he growled. “Watch out, I might mistake you for a real Princess.”

“Dragon!”

“Sorry, I mean a real storybook Princess. Not a real-real one.”

“Thin ice.”

“Do you rather mean the revolutionary sword-waving, Dragon-riding, battle-winning, kingdom-saving, setting leather trousers smoking sort of –”

“Dragon!”

He showed a few fangs lazily. “You haven’t tormented any knights in weeks. Losing your touch?”

Inzashu put in, “Why do dragons always sleep during the day?”

“Eh?” he grunted.

“They fight knights.”

GNARR!! “That’s a joke worthy of me.”

Yarimda said, “Call me old-fashioned, my dears, but I say that a true lady is entitled to wear whatever she likes within the bounds of decency without caring what others think – or indecency, in the case of a husband –”

“La la la!” Inzashu chuckled, covering her ears.

“There’s a good girl,” the old lady said, with a wicked smile. “You give that Azerim something to look at, Azania, and he’ll never look elsewhere.”

Blushing, Yardi said, “Grandmother, what kind of advice is that?”

“Good, honest advice. Just so we’re clear, it can be anything from the most magnificent ball gown to your silken scanties to just bare skin – you just wear it like a Dragoness wears her scales, and smoking will be the least of what you achieve.”

Inzashu puffed out her cheeks. “Ah … thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. What say you, sister?”

“Help?”

Yardi put in, “Grandmother, you’re absolutely terrible.”

“It’s about confidence – something you could stand to learn, dear one.”

“Me? I’m a muscly chunk of woman. Nothing girly about me.”

With a decent eye roll for a ninety-four year-old, she retorted, “You are curvy. Even your muscles are curvy. Yardi, you need to bear your body with confidence. You are big and beautiful; that is nothing to be ashamed of. By the time you reach my age, you’ll realise how silly society’s ideals are. I’ll give you a guarantee. Somewhere out there is a special someone whose eyeballs are going to pop out on stalks at the very sight of you, let alone when they discover the beauty that lives inside of you.”

Even Dragon had to glance away as they shared a tender hug. Such raw emotion. Would he be like this one day, aching to pass on just a few more of life’s lessons to his progeny before he passed beyond the fires of life?

With that, Yarimda declared her old bones were getting chilled.

Flying on … which meant soggy cloaks, steaming wet scales and a pounding rainstorm. Perfect.

Dragon flicked his wings as his team mounted up. “You don’t want to take a few fleas aboard, Chalice?”

“Oh no, you’re such a big, strong Dragon and doing such a fabulous job carrying all those people and equipment, I’ll just admire you from over here.”

He pretended to preen. “Don’t admire me too much, or some other males might become jealous.”

The yellow Dragoness smacked his hind leg with her tail. “Insolent youngling.”

“Rain’s easing up – as in, diminishing from a raging torrent to a spirited river,” Azania chuckled. “Come along now, stop admiring yourself and shift your oversized behind, Dragon. I’ve a royal appointment to keep.”

“At least you won’t be half as smelly by the time we get there, Your Highness.”

With that, he stepped out into the streaming rain.

By the time the two Dragons spied the fortress town tucked up against the mountainside, it was not possible to be any more drenched. Inzashu had given up trying to wring out her clothing, or even complaining that she had no idea there could be so much water in the entire world. New rivers danced down the cliffs behind the city in playful white plumes. On the flat farmlands below the outer battlements, puddles ran together to turn into ponds and lakes. Not good for the crops. Was this unseasonable rain?

A break in the clouds presaged the rain finally deciding that enough was enough, at least for the moment – but as it cleared, they spied the next weather front looming close behind. Any more of this, and they would not be flying up to the Vaylarn Archipelago. Summer was supposed to be balmy weather.

He could not imagine flying through an oceanic storm.

Popping his spectacles on his head, he eyed the fortress city with interest. Someone must have had a few feisty neighbours in the past. No less than four semi-circular granite battlements protected the city. Right at the rear was a castle, carved back into the cliff itself if he was not mistaken.

It would take quite the hammer to crack this nut.

“Those lower gates are a touch small,” he commented. “Chalice might fit, but I –”

“Need to go on a diet,” his Princess giggled, kicking his back. Her boots squelched. “Do Dragonesses like skinny butts, Chalice?”

Chunky is hunky. How do you translate that, Dragon?

“I’m the toast of the Tamarine Mountains?”

Azania said, “Keep lying right through those fangs, Dragon. Chunky is hunky, eh? I think we can go with that – but you can’t fit through that outer entryway, that’s for certain. Over to your left wing, Dragon, there’s a marketplace. Shall we land there and walk up?”

“As long as those guards on the battlements don’t get too excited.”

Chalice hissed, “Vertical drop? They can meet us in the marketplace – if they dare.”

The Princess said, “Dragons. I give up! What is it about your devious, fiery hearts that you love to scare Humans witless? Is it some predatory instinct?”

“Hours of fun,” he purred.

Chalice shrugged. “I’ve never tried, but it sounds enticing. Do they scream and panic and run around like headless chickens?”

“Fairly much. Try not to step on any. Nasty, squishy, warm fluids between the talons. Blergh.”

“I need to brush up on my pillaging.”

“Me too. Royal roar to announce your arrival, Princess