Chapter Four
Niressa
I rake my fingers through my hair, avoiding eye contact with the local humans as I wander through the market. I’ve been coming to this market for decades, ever since they erected it at the foot of the mountains. It was a brilliant place to host a market, truly. Any travelers who cross the mountains from Belvedere would meet this market, first.
They have an inn, a tavern, and every sort of shop that the weary traveler never knew they needed to peruse before they make their way to Vanir.
It is the perfect little travelers’ trap.
I chuckle to myself as yet another human beckons me to his stall, waving something shiny in my direction. I turn toward him, unable to ignore the glint of light reflecting off the metal and pause, waiting for his spiel.
“Hello, miss,” he rushes out. “Have you ever seen a dragon’s egg before?”
My eyebrow arches and I shake my head. “No. I’ve not seen a dragon’s egg, have you?” I clasp my hands in front of my waist, waiting to hear whatever magnificent story he’s selling to accompany that beautiful piece of metal. It’s egg-shaped, certainly. It’s gilded and beautiful and everything I’d love to have tucked away in my nest. But it’s not a dragon’s egg.
Because we don’t lay eggs. Dragons give birth in their human forms, the same way humans do, with live little wriggling newborns who cry far too often.
“Well, you have now,” he assures me, gesturing to the beautiful decoration.
“And is there’s a baby dragon in that egg?” I ask, tilting my head to the side as I study the trinket.
“Why, of course not. This one was never fertilized.”
“Mmm,” I murmur, holding out my hand. The sweaty man narrows his eyes on me before placing the prize in my palm. It’s light, hollow. I can understand how he might be able to trick a human into thinking it was an egg. “And how much coin do you want for this unfertilized egg of yours?”
“Fifty gilders,” he murmurs quickly, his beady black eyes shining with excitement.
“Fifty? No.” I set the egg down carefully on the wooden bar that separates the public from his wares and start to turn around.
“Wait! What about thirty?”
“Thirty gilders for an empty egg? I don’t think so,” I laugh as I browse the stands outside his stall. Blankets and tapestries drape carefully over metal stands, displaying their beautiful patterns.
“Thirty gilders and I’ll throw in one of those tapestries,” he says smoothly as my fingers glide across the embroidery of one.
“Hmm,” I muse aloud as I trace the pattern down the tapestry. It shows a horned lion roaring from atop a hill as a storm rages in the background. I quite like it.
“Twenty-five,” I sigh, already pulling the tapestry from the rack.
“Thirty.”
“Twenty,” I laugh, shrugging as I lay the tapestry down on the wooden counter with a grin.
“Blast,” he mutters, grabbing a sack to place my items in. I purse my lips against my amusement as he neatly tucks the egg into the bag atop the folded tapestry. Without hesitation, I lay down twenty gilders and turn around, intent on exploring the rest of the market.
The wares are different every time I come here. I stop at a stall selling food and purchase some chicken on a stick. It’s flavored with some sweet glaze that sets my mouth watering as I make my way through the rest of the market.
By the time I leave, I’ve purchased four bags full of things I absolutely do not need. But I want them, and I have the gold to purchase them, so why not indulge a little? I hurry past a group of men wearing chainmail—knights or sellswords, either way, I want nothing to do with them. They’re trouble for my kind; they always have been and I want no part in whatever nonsense they’re up to.
I’ve lived alone, away from my own kind for quite a while now. If I can avoid their idiocy, I can avoid the same from the humans. I cast my eyes downward as I pass them. I don’t want them looking too closely at the color they’ll find there if they pay too close attention.
Dragon eyes are a subtle thing when we’re in human form. The eye changes to a human shape, but the color remains the same. That’s not so bad for dragons with blue or green coloring, those eyes are normal enough amongst humans. But when your eyes are a rosy pink, that can bring up questions.
No one stops me or asks questions as I leave the market. I walk gingerly down the road, carrying my sacks as the wind blows through my hair. It’s a beautiful day on the outskirts of Vanir. Only happy white clouds fill the sky. In the distance, I can see dragonkin flying around the mountains, enjoying the cheerful weather.
When a cart passes me by, I smile up at the driver. She waves at me before carrying on toward the market, off to sell whatever wares she packed. I glance over my shoulder when she disappears down the hill and turn off into the forest that grows at the foot of the mountain. My mountain isn’t very far from here, at least not by air. It was my parents’ and I’ve kept it for all these years. Being away from my nest for too long makes me nervous. Dragons have tried to take it before and—undoubtedly—one will try again, someday.
“Fuck,” I mutter as a search for a space between the trees large enough to shift. I know there is one, I changed here just this morning. I push a low hanging branch out of my way and march forward, searching for the little clearing I usually use.
My nostrils flare and I follow the scent of wildflowers deeper into the woods until the tree trunks finally open up before me. “Ah,” I sigh as I step into the clearing. I drop the bags and pull the loose dress over my head, tucking it into one of the bags of new clothing. My neck rolls as scales burst from my skin, covering me as my body grows and elongates. I twist my neck around, looking over my back as my tail swipes back and forth through the air. My pink scales give way to teal ones, highlights that catch my own eye.
Vain, I accuse myself silently.
I grip the sacks in my claws and beat my wings, taking off into the sky. Within moments, clouds part around me, and I soar toward my nest, passing over a few mountains before I reach my own. The sheer cliff face is my favorite part about the nest I grew up in. I can see the cave from here, opening up into nothing. There’s a rear entrance that leads out to the other side of the mountain, of course, but I much prefer this one.
It’s the perfect landing spot and offers much more light than some of the nests I visited as a youngling. My claws slide across the stone landing while I tuck my wings to my back. The bags skid across the floor unceremoniously and I snort.
“That blasted egg best not be broken,” I mutter to myself as I make my way further into the cavern. I shake my head, trying to clear the scent of humans from my snout. They’re smelly little things; all their perfumes and profuse sweating tend to give me a headache.
When I snort a little fire and the scent persists . . . I know I’m not smelling the humans from the market. My eyes narrow as I look around the cavern, wondering where they are. I know they can’t leave this way. But the fact that there are humans in my nest sets the fire in my chest ablaze. I lower my snout, trying not to let them know I’ve detected their presence.
At least I didn’t change as soon as I landed, I groan internally. That would be a bloody nightmare to deal with. I’d have to kill each and every one of them. Though, I may anyway. By the smell of it, there’s quite a few hiding here in my caverns. I find the bags that slid away from me upon my landing and quickly tuck them into a pile of treasures. A yell sounds to my right and I whip my head in that direction, baring my teeth as my tail whips back and forth.