Reaper could track me. She’d found me from across the world, after all. Still, I didn't want to lead her directly to my lair. Returning to my hoard had been my first impulse, but Instinct had rebelled violently to the point where I thought she might actually try to force the issue if I tried to head there.

  But I needed to hide Herald somewhere my mother couldn't touch her. Not easily, at least. It needed to be somewhere we could enter without delay, since Reaper was right there, beside us, so the gates were out. And I didn't want to lead her anywhere with people. I didn't know her general opinion of humans, but at that moment I couldn't imagine it would go well if I brought her to, say, Karakan.

  Luckily I knew a place that met all my needs.

  Flying into the rain again as we approached Mallin was miserable. Doubly so for my sister. She wasn’t dressed for it; Her raincoat and other gear were lost, still on the harness I’d abandoned as we fled. All she had were her tunic, her shirt, and her boots, and the sword still hanging on her belt, and it didn't take long before she was shivering. She pressed herself into me, desperate to leach some of my warmth, and I flew low and slow, trying to reduce the wind chill, but there was only so much we could do.

  “Can't—” she chattered as we soared above the coast. Reaper was a dark shape, fifty feet to our side. “Can’t feel my fingers!”

  Despite the low speed I could barely hear her. “Just hold on!” I shouted back. Then I did something I never wanted to do. I lied to her. “We're almost there! Not much longer!”

  Sometimes, telling a white lie is the kindest thing you can do for someone.

  She held on. She didn't say another word, but she held on for the whole goddamn hour that it took to reach the narrow crack in the mountain where I’d once emerged after fleeing from the throne room, and where we’d once entered to kill gremlins and claim their Nest Heart.

  I didn't bother waiting for Herald to climb off me. I landed right in front of the crack, then turned around and immediately started backing inside. Reaper landed nearby, and our eyes locked across the short distance as I kept retreating inside.

  “What are you doing, little one?” The rumble of her voice enveloped me as she advanced, rain pouring off her in sheets. The entrance was far too tight for her to follow, so she simply laid down, watching me with her wings shielding her from the rain. “I will be patient if I must. But keep acting like this and I will come in there.”

  When she said that she’d come in if she had to, I believed her. She hadn’t shown any sign so far of being able to change her shape the way I could, but the impression I got was that she’d simply tear through solid stone to bring me out. I just hoped that she’d be patient.

  “I’ll be out,” I called back. “Just give me some time!”

  The crack was narrow, even for me. I was still well within sight of the entrance when it narrowed further, and my hips wouldn't fit. I couldn't go any farther without Shifting.

  “You have to get off, Herald,” I said softly, my eyes never leaving my mother. “You have to go deeper, so I can deal with Reaper.”

  “You— you’ll come after me?” she chattered.

  “Sure, yeah.”

  “You promise?”

  “On anything you want.” Someone had to warm her back up, if nothing else.

  “Oh— okay.” She slid off my back, and I heard halting steps behind me. “I’ll be waiting. Remember: you promised!”

  “I promised,” I agreed.

  “Don't you dare leave me!”

  “Never.”

  She moved behind me again, and pressed herself into me. She was shivering terribly. “H-hurry! Cold,” she said, and staggered away.

  I stood there until I couldn’t hear Herald’s steps anymore, then approached to within a dozen feet of the entrance. Close enough to Reaper for polite conversation, but not so close that she could reach me. She had shown herself to be far more intelligent and rational than my bestiary or Herald’s reading had made me expect, but I still wouldn’t trust her not to simply grab me if she could.

  She shook her wings, sending water splashing all around her. “Is the weather always this foul here? I do not remember this island being so rainy.”

  In our short time together, I’d found that Reaper didn’t use any human expressions. I did — when I spoke, when I expressed myself at all, I generally used the same facial expressions that any human would, or at least my best approximation. Reaper didn’t, yet I understood her. When she commented on the rain, she didn’t smile. She certainly didn’t show her teeth. But I understood that she was making a joke, or at least trying to. It was all about the eyes, and how she turned her head, but it was as clear to me as a full toothed smile from one of my humans would have been.

  The only time Reaper had shown her teeth was when she spoke to Herald, and they’d been a big part of why I wanted to be between the two of them at all times.

  “Can you not speak without your human here?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. She was watching me patiently, for now, but I probably shouldn’t test that patience unnecessarily.

  “It’s only rained the last two weeks,” I said, ignoring her comment about Herald. “The humans tell me it could go on a few weeks more.”

  “‘The humans?’ There are more than this Drakonum Herald, then?”

  “A handful, or two dozen. Depends on how you count.”

  Again she turned her head just so, as clear to me as if she’d asked me to go on.

  “Two, my sisters, who have bound themselves to me completely. Half a dozen more who serve me without question. Another dozen who have sworn to obey me in exchange for my protection. And my two brothers, and a half dozen or more who are my trusted friends.”

  The way Reaper’s eyes widened slightly, the slight twist of her head, were surprisingly human gestures. She was surprised. Curious. “That is quite a few humans, for one as young as you.”

  I swelled with pride at her words. The way she said it implied that I’d achieved something. “Those are only the ones I know that I can depend on. There are others I’m on good terms with.”

  “Good terms?” She sounded considerably less impressed at that. “You cannot settle for ‘good terms,’ little one. ‘Friends’ is already a risk, though fates know I have had some myself. They must love you, or fear you to their bones. Anything else invites disaster.”

  Love, or fear. Her words echoed what Instinct had told me for as long as we had known each other. It was a lesson driven home by Mak’s betrayal: They must either love you or fear you above all else, so that they would never think of harming you.

  “I know, mother. I learned that the hard way.”

  Mother. I was pretty sure that it was Charisma nudging me to call her that, to please her and put her off guard. I needed her to leave me to my own devices, after all. Love, or fear — I had to rely on one or the other, and the latter wasn’t bloody likely.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned “learning the hard way” in the context I did. Reaper’s expression hardened for a long moment, which was a terrifying thing to be on the receiving end of, even when the anger she displayed wasn’t for me. Then she relaxed, and I was surprised to find that the draconic repertoire of expressions included “sympathy.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “They have hurt you. No whelp should bear the scars that you do.”

  I bristled at that, and sat tall, filling the narrow space I was in. “I am proud of my scars!”

  “As you should be! You are large for your years, and when I heard you speak this morning I was greatly surprised, and pleased at your development. None of my children have been so mature at your age. That does not change the fact that no whelp should have a scar over their heart.”

  “I love that scar. I got it avenging my sisters.” I hissed the words, though the anger I felt wasn’t for her. If she took any offense she didn’t show it. Not openly. But when she spoke it was with a dangerous undertone of suppressed fury and disgust.

  “Your ‘sisters.’ Yes. None of your clutch-mates live, yet you mentioned two sisters. The human you are protecting, she called you ‘sister’ as well.”

  Every shred of self-preservation I possessed screamed at me to watch my words extremely carefully. To take care that none of that simmering anger was directed at me by a slip of the tongue. But when she used that tone, speaking of Herald, self-preservation went out the window. I growled at her, low and wordless, falling low to the ground, a clear and instinctive declaration that I was past posturing and ready to fight.

  “Herald is far more than a sister to me. She is my first and closest friend. She is my advisor and voice of reason. When I needed her, she was my proxy among the humans. She is my joy and my comfort. She is bound to me, now and forever, by my magic and by her Advancements. She is my Herald. She is mine. She would die for me, and I for her. And if anyone harms her, be it human or dragon, I will avenge her, or I will die trying. Do I make myself clear, mother?”

  I couldn’t say when I began stalking towards her, but by my final, growled syllable I stood at the entrance, only feet from her. My teeth were bared in an offer of violence, futile though it may be, and my entire body ready to throw itself at her.

  Gods, it would have been satisfying to see her shy back. She didn’t, of course. But she did incline her head in understanding. Not compliance, and certainly not submission — what a joke that would have been. But in recognition and acceptance of my feelings, at least, and that was a coup in itself.

  “More than a sister. Yes, I can see that. I saw her eyes. I still wish to hear from her. Our conversation ended before she had a chance to explain herself fully.”

  “You will. But we are done for now, mother. She is badly chilled by the rain, and she needs me.” As if the arrogance of that statement wasn’t enough, I decided to push it. “Don’t go near the humans for now. Please. We have an agreement, and I stand to gain a great deal as long as you don’t do anything to hurt them.”

  She huffed. A blast of air rolled past me, scalding hot. I didn’t flinch, and I knew that she hadn’t meant any harm. She was amused. Perhaps even — if it wasn’t wishful thinking on my part — just a little bit proud.

  I turned my back on her, trusting that she wouldn’t do anything. She didn’t. “I will harvest some Rifts to replenish myself, and rest for a day or three,” she said to my back. “Then I will come find you. I will avoid distressing the humans too much, but do not try my patience, daughter. I will come find you if I must, wherever you are.”

  When I reached the narrow part of the passage, where I’d have to Shift, I turned my head back to her. “I don’t need rescuing. I’ve done well for myself here. But I would love to have you in my life, if we can understand each other. My human family are orphans. I’m sure that we would all welcome a mother into our family.”

  Then I Shifted, and went to find my sister.

  When I reached Herald, my stomach dropped. She was huddled up, shivering and fighting to stay awake, against a stalagmite. The air was that same constant temperature of most caves, and fairly dry, but she was still soaked through to her skin.

  I pressed my cheek to hers and she started, then relaxed into me. “Draka,” she said weakly, her teeth chattering. “H-how— are y-you...”

  “Hush. Later. Gods, you’re freezing,” I said, pulling her in and curling up around her. It wasn’t enough. I was a warm weather girl, but I knew what to do if you were soaked to the bone. “You need to get out of your clothes, Herald. We can lay them out to dry, and I can warm you up much faster, skin to skin. Or, scales, I suppose.”

  “F-fina— finally…” She breathed slow and deep, trying to get her shuddering under control for long enough to speak, then tried again. “Finally t-trying to— to get me out— of my clothes— huh?”

  She gave me a weak grin. All that struggle for a joke. What the hell was I supposed to do but laugh?

  “Dammit, don’t make this weird! We talked about this months ago: You’re not my type! Now get naked and snuggle up before you freeze to death!”

  She did. She didn’t just pull her clothes off and toss them, either. Even shaking with cold, she got up, undressed, then took a moment to spread her clothes out flat in orderly rows before staggering back to her apex predator space heater. I rolled on my side, pressing her to my front so that not one square inch of her touched the stone floor, and covering her with my free wing. I ran pretty hot, and I hoped that it would be enough.

  Chilled as she was and surrounded by my heat, Herald fell asleep quickly. I wasn’t worried. Not anymore. Let her sleep — a long nap would probably do her good after the morning we’d had, and there was absolutely nothing for her to do. All I needed from her was to get warmed up to the point I could get her back to Karakan. Back to the inn where she was safe, where Mak and Kira—

  Oh, God! Poor Mak!

  I jerked with surprise, drawing a stuttering groan of protest from Herald. Conscience had been silent since we first saw Reaper, but now that we were somewhat safe and had done all we could for Herald in the short term her words rang through my skull. And Mercies be kind, she was right.

  Poor Mak, I agreed. Conscience’s concern for my other sister was so strong that it leaked freely into my own and almost overwhelmed me. Today must have been terrifying for Mak, forced to endure everything I’d felt; the fear of being pursued, then cornered, and sure that I was about to die. My confusion, and my constant fear for Herald up until only minutes ago. What would that have done to her, knowing that we were far away and that there was nothing she could possibly do except possibly bear witness to the emotions of my death?

  And now that Conscience had brought it to my attention, I was flooded with worry for Mak, which she’d feel. Another thing for her to worry about. Gods, I hoped that she could somehow tell who I was worried for. She was clever. She’d be able to figure out why I was worried for her, if she could tell in the first place.

  I had a burning urge to go to her. To find her as fast as I could, and tell her that I was safe, that Herald was safe, that everything would be fine. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk Herald slipping further into hypothermia. All I could do was to force myself to be calm. To forget, for a moment, about Reaper, and to think about how nice it was to just lie here with Herald pressed close against me, breathing softly. To let relief flood me, so that Mak would know that after all the fear and desperation of the last several hours, everything was, at least for the moment, all right.

  I don’t know when I fell asleep, but my internal clock told me that it was late afternoon, maybe early evening, when I woke. The sun might have set already. I wasn’t sure.

  Herald was still asleep in my arms. Or asleep again, I should say; at some point she must have woken up and slipped out, because all her clothes had been turned and moved, presumably to let them dry more effectively. How I’d missed that I had no idea, but the morning had been as exhausting for me as it had for her, and since I felt completely safe with her there was no reason for me to wake just because she was moving around.

  I should mention that when I say that she’d moved her clothes, she’d actually draped them on me, the irreverent woman that she was. Leave it to her to look at a magical apex predator and see a clothes dryer.

  I couldn’t even be mad. I touched her trousers and, dammit all, they were dry.

  “Herald?” I whispered, and she grumbled, her arm around my neck clutching tighter. “You need to wake up, little dragon.”

  “Mmm?” She looked at me, bleary eyed, in the dim light of the glow slime. Then her eyes flashed gold as she switched to shadowsight, and she blinked the sleep away.

  “We need to get back to the city. Your clothes are dry. How do you feel?”

  “Nice and warm,” she muttered, snuggling back in. “Do we have to go? They’ll just get soaked again, and it is so fucking cold out there.”

  “Afraid so. We need to get back to Mak and everyone else. And the Council needs to know what’s going on.”

  She jerked properly awake at that, pushing herself up on her hands to really look at me. “Oh, gods! Mak! She must be—”

  “Hush, I know. I’ve been working hard to send her good feelings, all right? But I think she’ll need to actually see us before her heart stops carving its way out of her chest, so…”

  “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Let me just—”

  She dressed quickly. Of everything she put on, only her boots were still wet and cold, but there wasn’t anything we could do about that.

  I walked ahead of her as we left. Reaper had said that she was leaving, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My best guide to how a real dragon behaved was Instinct. And while she took bargains and promises very seriously, casually saying that you’d do one thing and then doing another was completely fair game. And when she felt that we’d been done wrong or disrespected, violence was always on the table. Sure, by all accounts Instinct was still immature, but I wasn’t going to assume that Reaper was any different, and I still had a very strong feeling that she did not like Herald.

  Outside the crack in the mountain there was only rain. I unclenched my everything and thanked the Mercies, and then we were on our way.

  and get 8 chapters early. You also get all sixty-plus chapters of my other story, , a more classically LitRPG story, () and anything else I’m trying out.