Chapter 9
In his dragon form’s true size, Kier peered down at the female asleep on a bed of assorted blankets. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes at her.
She smells of blood and unknown witchcraft.
He’d be alarmed of the former if it wasn’t her own he could scent.
Blood magic wasn’t inherently evil if it was from a witch’s own body.
Even dragoncraft sometimes required the use of an additive such as a piece of one’s body, like blood or a scale.
Some even gouged out an eye or offered a clawed finger, depending on the sacrifice they required and their desperation.
Kier would’ve considered such things to save Selene if he knew of a way.
The question he had was why the little witch needed it, or what spell she’d cast. It smelt... pure. Innocent.
There was nothing dark about it.
And so far, he thought, twisting his head while assessing her, she hasn’t given me a reason to distrust her.
No, quite the opposite, in fact.
If he wasn’t her keeper, he’d have thought she was here willingly.
He’d tested her time and time again, ready to imprison her, and had never needed to. He’d truly thought this witch, in the near week she’d been here, would have done something curious and foolish.
She hadn’t tried to escape; her scent had only gone that way once. She hadn’t tried to fight him or plead for her release.
She worked hard, often diligently and intelligently, with systems he grumbled about yet silently mimicked because they were more efficient.
Still, he was annoyed with her.
He thumped the side of her makeshift bedding. “Female, wake up.” But she barely stirred – only adorably scrunching up her face and curling further into a ball on her side. “Wake up!”
She gasped and quickly sat up at his yell, only to look up and shrink under her blanket at him towering over her. She brought the covering up to her chest, as if she found her underdress indecent to be stared upon.
“It is past midday,” he told her. “This is the second time I have reminded you to feed her.”
Her face darted towards the exit. “It’s midday already?” she blurted, her voice hoarse and cracked.
His brows came together. Her voice is weaker than normal. He’d even struggled to hear it. Was she that deeply asleep?
She rubbed a bleary eye and threw the covers off her legs as if his first assumption about her clothing was wrong. “Sorry, I’ll reheat the food from last night.”
Kier placed his large paw in front of the direction she intended to roll to stop her. “Why do you smell of blood?”
Her gaze cut to him sharply. “It’s rude to ask a woman about her blood.”
Kier rolled his eyes with a disagreeing huff. “Such impertinence. How is it rude to ask about why you are blee–” Realisation dawned. His face blistered with heat, and he almost choked as he stepped back. “No. What I meant was–”
She cocked a damn brow at him while folding her arms, as if daring him to continue, and Kier wanted to eat his own tail. He hadn’t considered it might be that time of her fertility cycle.
Dear heavens, why the fuck did his heart race?!
“Then why do you smell of witchcraft?” he directed.
“I ache,” she answered, her voice still whisper-soft and cracked. “The magic is an ointment I use to relieve the pain symptoms. Is it a problem that I aid myself, oh great and mighty dragon?”
Well, she was definitely acting like she was sour. Although she’d been like this for most of her time here.
“Why can I smell it in the healing alcove?”
Her lips tightened before she slipped her gaze away. “It’s an ointment. It follows everywhere I go.”
He wanted to tell her not to use it then, as it made scenting if she used new witchcraft murky, but he didn’t have the heart to. He brought a female into his home, so he must bear the consequences of her fertility cycle.
Great. She will be even more fragile and moody.
Kier sighed, held back the urge to bash his forehead into the wall in annoyance, and stepped back to give her space. I had many sisters. He understood all about this situation, although not particularly when it pertained to a witch. Surely it cannot be much different.
“Come, then. The day is late and we have much to do.”
She nodded and shakily got out of bed. He almost flicked his paw forward to steady her but decided against it. Not that he understood why he had the desire to support her in the first place.
He left her to her tasks so he could return to his hoard of books. Except before he made it all the way, a familiar noisy sound echoed from the entrance of his tunnel, followed by a haunting scream.
“Oh, blasted!” he roared, spinning around to sprint up the incline on all fours.
What had taken minutes was shortened to a few seconds, and he rounded the curve of his tunnel to find the witch hanging upside down in the fist of a large dragon. She screamed as her arms waved through the air, her braided ponytail swinging side to side.
“What’s with you dragons all picking me up upside down?!”
A pale-blue dragoness with scales that shimmered in the light, and a thick, eel-like tail that had white frills, took up a large section of his tunnel. Her body was long and narrow, as were her face and snout, which she tipped one way and the other to assess her captured prey.
She blinked large silver eyes. “He truly brought a witch here.”
“Aysu, put the creature down,” he demanded as he stepped closer. Kier didn’t know whether to sigh wearily or rub his face in frustration.
Her eyes widened at him. “I didn’t think you’d let it roam freely.” She shook the witch as she brought her snout closer, foolishly braving any backlash, and she sniffed her hair and face. “She doesn’t smell of dark magic.”
“Aysu!” Kier barked, earning him a sneer.
“She was about to feed a concoction to your sister! I was rescuing her!”
“It was a meal.”
“A meal?” She sniffed the air towards the alcove Selene lay in before snorting out an irritated sneeze. “Hardly a meal worthy of a dragon.”
“Better than starving, isn’t it?” the witch retorted, still clutching stubbornly to the layers of her skirts that threatened to flip inside out as she hung there. “Please put me down. My head is growing hot and I’m getting dizzy.”
Indeed, her face appeared red and swollen.
“Carefully!” Kier yelled when it looked as though Aysu was about to drop her on her head.
“What do you take me for?” she bit back, placing the witch down gently.
“A savage? I can scent that she is a white witch. I see no need to be harsh with her.” Aysu even went so far as to help her to her feet and steady her when she wobbled.
“My apologies, little one. I didn’t mean to give you a fright. ”
His head drew back in confusion, surprised by her sudden change of tone. He relaxed his posture swiftly. It’s because she doesn’t know or understand.
“Thank you,” the witch said softly, casting her a wary glance.
Aysu smiled easily, which was her way. It bared her thin, sharp fangs. “Since you’re defenceless, I’m most excited to meet you.”
The witch folded her lithe arms. “I wouldn’t call myself defenceless.”
“Aren’t you? Your magic is nothing but lights and tricks, fire and manipulation of plant matter, no?”
“It’s more than that,” Kier replied on her behalf, shaking his head. “You’ve swallowed too much seawater.”
Aysu tsked at him. “It’s just because I’m rarely on land. I only hear tales of dark witches.”
“Oh! You’re one of the seafolk!” the witch exclaimed, pointing to her.
Kier wondered how she’d surmised that so quickly when she’d likely never seen one of them.
He drifted his gaze down Aysu’s lengthy body, most of which was hidden by the curvature of the tunnel. But he knew it from memory.
She had six small wings that aided her speed in the water and helped to lift her body in the sky – although it was still a struggle.
She was double the length of a land dragon, narrow in shape for ease of aquatic life, and her tail had a long fin on the bottom and top to allow for side-to-side propulsion through the water.
She was slow on land, and only marginally faster in the air.
“Yes, I’m seafolk, little one!” Aysu lifted a grand smile to Kier. “She’s rather intelligent.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re easily impressed.”
The dragoness pouted at him, which wasn’t indicative of her age. The scales underneath her eyes and the corners of her maw sagged, showing she was well into the latter half of her fifth century.
“Why have you come?” he asked, wanting to return to his tasks. There were other more important issues at hand than socialising.
At least she won’t eat the witch by mistake now. She was his closest neighbour, and also the friendliest – usually to his enjoyment. But she knew what had happened to Selene, and he’d asked for privacy during this time until all matters were resolved.
“I brought you fish,” she answered, and her smooth, scaled brows drew together. “Can you not smell them in the entrance area?”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he rarely smelt past her own fishy aroma. Although seafolk were dragonkind, he was unsure if such a thing would be deemed disrespectful to her subspecies. Sometimes seafolk and landfolk struggled to understand each other and their special nuances.
Kier glared at her. “You only wished to come investigate my prisoner, you nosey sea dragon.”
She tsked at him before turning to the witch. “He’s not usually so cantankerous. Have you upset him?”
“Me?” The witch placed her hand upon her chest, aghast. “He upsets himself.”
“I think I have every reason to be rather upset,” Kier stated in his own defence.
“Yes, but we are not the reason for it.” Then Aysu narrowed her eyes at the witch. “Wait, you’re not, are you?”
“No!” she yelled. “Gosh. I think he’d incinerate me if I were.”
“Yes, I imagine you wouldn’t be allowed to walk freely otherwise.” Aysu cast a disapproving gaze at him. “You’re not turning into the WitchSlayer, are you? Or even his brother?”