Chapter Seven
The Dragon King sent for more soldiers. Then he searched the building thoroughly. Yes, he searched with the others, tearing into everything, including the walls. It was brutal, but I saw it for what it was—a way for him to relieve some of his anger.
I had to excuse myself. My moment of strength had quickly dwindled under the aggressive search, and the trembling began.
But I still saw it as a step forward. I had been useful, and it had nothing to do with sex.
I had helped with my intellect. It astounded me and also made me reevaluate myself.
I was smarter than I realized. I know that sounds silly, but when you spend your life focused on your outer qualities, it becomes hard to see what's inside.
The Dragon King was helping me look inward, and I was amazed at what was there.
Amazed, but still afraid. So, I left the King to his demolition while I waited outside.
Perched atop a boulder within the shade of a fragrant pine tree, I wrapped my arms around myself, breathed in the clarifying scent, and sang.
I needed to drown out the bangs and thuds coming from the building .
. . and the frustrated roars that came sporadically to startle me.
With my eyes on the sky, I sang the song my mother taught me when I was learning to fly.
It was meant to comfort a new flyer while they learned to navigate the sky alone.
I'd often sung it when I was with Bara to comfort myself, and it worked even better now.
“The air knows me,” I sang.
“My kin. My magic.”
The repetitive, breath-led lyrics helped to calm my breathing. I flowed into the song.
“I am not alone here.
My ancestors fly beside me.
They lift me upon their breath.”
The vibration of my voice soothed me. I closed my eyes and let my soul rise with my words.
“I spread my wings,
and the sky remembers.
The sky remembers me.”
For the duration of the song, I was whole again.
I saw my home in my mind—the enormous trees supporting rambling structures.
Homes built above ground. No locks, only platforms to welcome visitors.
Within the tribe, all were safe. Lelurras didn't steal or murder.
They didn't hurt each other. There were only love, laughter, and music among my people.
I felt it again—that sense of community and safety.
Felt my mother's hand on my cheek. Bara and his wickedness vanished. I was free.
And then my song ended.
My voice drifted away, and I opened my eyes.
My gaze was on the sky, but motion out of the corner of my eye startled me.
I spun toward it. Someone had been standing in the doorway of that building.
I caught only a glimpse of his back as they turned away.
But I would know the breadth of those shoulders anywhere.
Biting my lip, I huddled into myself. I hadn't sung to another person in years.
It used to be part of my daily life. I had a good voice, and my tribe often asked me to sing at community events.
I'd been proud then. No longer. Now, the thought of the King listening to me sing sent anxiety through me.
Had he liked my song? Or was my tone too high?
My melody off? With a grimace, I realized that Bara was still there, inside my mind.
It didn't matter that he'd never heard me sing.
He had destroyed my confidence, and that affected everything.
But the longer I stared at that empty doorway, the more I wished the King would come back. I took that as another win. Fuck you, Bara!