Chapter 10
Ten
Elowen woke before the sun had finished rising, heart fluttering like a trapped bird. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. It was something else—tighter. Stranger.
Hope, perhaps.
She didn’t tell her father where she was going. He hadn’t asked, because he already knew. As long as she returned with a full satchel and didn’t invite the Council’s wrath, she could vanish into the forest for hours without question.
The morning was heavy with fog, and when she came into view of the lake, the dragon was already waiting.
Her steps slowed the moment she spotted the curve of his massive black shape, still as stone on the far side of the water. He hadn’t hidden himself this time. He stood tall in the clearing, wings slightly folded, tail curled around his body. He was staring at something.
Her breath caught when she realized what he was looking at.
The flower crown she had left—forgotten beside the smooth stone she liked to sit on—was carefully placed in front of him now. Not trampled. Not burned. Not discarded. Moved. Deliberately.
He must’ve touched it. Held it.
She stepped forward, slowly. The dragon’s massive head turned, tracking her movements. She could see the tremble of power in his limbs even at rest.
Elowen took a shaky breath. “You came back,” she whispered.
He tilted his head, as if listening.
“I wasn’t sure if I would see you again,” she admitted, stepping closer. “But I…I wanted to thank you. For the stone. And the rose.”
He blinked once, silent. No movement. No growl. No fire.
“I made this for you,” she said, voice quiet as wind over water. She knelt to pick the crown from the dirt and held it up with both hands. “I don’t know if you’d want it, but…it’s the only thing I know how to make that’s pretty.”
The dragon watched her. No comprehension flickered in those golden eyes. She smiled softly. “You don’t understand, do you?” She took another careful step forward, keeping her hands raised. He didn’t move. “You’ve given me gifts. I want to give you one in return.”
Still no response.
Swallowing, she stepped within reach. Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
Gods, he’s massive. His body radiated heat like a forge.
His breath smelled of ash and hot air. Up close, his scales shimmered black and gold, layers upon layers of ancient armor that no man could pierce.
She reached up, slowly, trembling fingers brushing the side of one great, curled horn.
The dragon did not flinch.
Her chest ached at the gentleness in that stillness. “Thank you,” she whispered, rising on her toes and slipping the flower crown over the horn.
It hung there, awkward and small against the magnitude of him. And then the dragon lowered his head further.
It wasn’t submission. It was acceptance.
Elowen, barely dared to breathe, but reached up again—this time to gently touch the edge of one thick scale near his jaw. Her fingertips pressed lightly to the warm, textured plate.
Immediately, she recognized the texture. It had been a scale she had found buried in the dirt that day, and the creature must have taken it back after she found it out of fear she would tell someone.
She moved her hand slowly across his scales. He made a sound, softer than a growl, and went still.
For a moment, neither moved.
Her touch was feather-light, the kind given to something sacred. Her hand lingered just a heartbeat longer, then fell.
“I don’t believe you’re a monster,” she said quietly. “Not like the stories say.”
Elowen stepped back, placing her hand gently over her chest. “I’ll come again tomorrow,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper. She turned, slowly, and began walking back toward the tree line.
Behind her, the dragon lifted his head fully, the flower crown still resting crookedly around his horn, catching the morning light.