Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
JAX
Jax fell backward over his heels, clutching the baby dragon to his chest, and awkwardly crab-walked with one hand as he scrambled to get away from the angry swan running him down.
The bird stopped a few feet away from him and hissed loudly in protest when he finally found his way to his feet. The dragon in his arms squirmed suddenly, twisting and turning in his grip and digging sharp claws into his chest as he tried to escape.
“Hey, now,” he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “None of that. We’ve been through too much together to have you turn against me now.”
In response, the dragon chomped down on his thumb with his tiny, needle-sharp teeth.
Jax yelped and released the beast, who plummeted like a rock to the ground.
The swan darted forward with a distressed honk, worrying over the dragon before gently guiding him away with an outstretched wing as a mother would a child.
“Where are you going with my dragon?” Jax shook out his hand and inspected his thumb. Tiny dots of red bubbled to the surface in the shape of a half circle. “You can’t just take him.”
The swan turned around, tucking the hatchling under her wing and hissed at him again.
“You can’t be serious.” He gestured widely as he spoke. “That is not your baby. You’re not even the same species—or have you missed the part where he has scales and breathes fire?”
The look the bird gave in response was so unimpressed that Jax would not have been surprised at all if she rolled her eyes as well. He let out a slow breath and shoved his hand through his hair as he channeled his training.
“It’s just a swan,” he muttered to himself. “Testier than a duck, but not as aggressive as a goose. Certainly better than chickens. This would be easier if I had my satchel, but I’ve handled worse.”
He slowly lowered himself to one knee, speaking in low, musical tones. “Look. I’m sure you mean well, but I can promise you that it’s not going to end the way you think it is if you keep him. He’s small now, but he’s only going to get bigger.”
The swan met his eyes for a minute, then turned to the little dragon as if conferring with him. A moment later, she looked back at him, nodded once, then turned and began waddling away with the dragon still tucked under her wing.
Jax leaned back onto his foot. “Huh. This is an off day for me. Normally I can get water fowl.”
He watched as the swan shepherded the hatchling to the door of Odessa’s cottage, then left him on the doorstep as it rooted around in the tall grass.
She began walking backwards toward him, tugging something along with her beak.
Jax jumped to his feet once he recognized the brown leather strap of his satchel.
“You found it!”
He took two quick steps toward the bird before remembering that he was trying to appear as unthreatening and trustworthy as possible, then abruptly stopped and waited while the swan dragged his satchel across the hard dirt and left it at his feet.
“Thank you,” he said graciously as he stooped over to pick it up.
The swan edged away from him, eyeing him with suspicion as he inspected the contents.
The notes he had taken while trailing Drosselmeyer were waterlogged and ruined, as were the snacks he had stashed away for traveling.
But the item he was most interested in was the set of panpipes, which, having been made from thick, hollow reeds, had survived the unexpected dunking rather better than the rest of his belongings.
He played a few experimental notes, grinning at the smooth, clear sound it produced.
He toasted the swan with it. “Good as new! And since I just so happen to have a number of Swan Songs memorized, I’ll be off with my dragon and out of your hair—er, feathers—before you know it.”
The swan hissed and darted forward, wings spread wide and beak nipping at his legs.
Jax jumped to the side as he brought his pipes back to his mouth.
He opened his magical senses, letting the music around him flow through as he attempted to match his own song to the key.
The calm, peaceful tune flowed from the instrument, and though he could see the shimmering sparkles of magic as it wound through the air, the light was muted and dim.
He yelped, cutting off his song, and jerked his knee at a hard pinch to his calf. Sharp pain in the other one had him hopping forward and whirling around, glowering at the unapologetic swan. He shook a finger at her. “That hurt. You’re supposed to be getting calmer, not more aggressive.”
She rushed him again, aiming for his knees.
Jax lifted his instrument to his lips again, and the music flowed around him once more as he commenced a sort of strange dance as he tried to avoid the angry swan.
He was beginning to think that perhaps his magic was simply ineffective in whatever realm Drosselmeyer had stranded him in, but a glance toward the lake showed the rest of the flock of swans floating lazily as they slept.
He dropped the hand holding his pipes to his side and tilted his head as he studied his opponent.
“You’re a rather unusual sort of swan, aren’t you?”
The bird stared him down, as if daring him to make another move. Jax held up his hands in surrender and took a step back, toward the lake. “I know when to give in. Let’s call a truce—you don’t attack my legs, and I won’t try to save you from the predator you’ve decided to claim as your young.”
Yet, he mentally added. I just need to figure out another strategy.
He made a show of walking back to the shore and lowering himself to the sand, all the while watching the swan from the corner of his eyes.
It waited until he was all the way to the ground before returning to the dragon, who had sat and waited like a well-behaved dog during the entire interaction.
He narrowed his eyes in thought as he spoke quietly to himself, “I would have expected a young dragon to be far more independent than that, especially a motherless one.”
The afternoon wore on as he sat, studying the swan and formulating a new plan of attack.
He obviously needed to find an alternative method of separating the two of them, and ideally it would be one that would cause the least amount of stress to the swan as possible.
Despite his determination to retrieve his dragon, his training demanded that he care about the well-being of the bird as well, especially as swans were known to form deep family bonds.
“I wonder if she has a nest somewhere. It would explain why she’s accepted him as her young so easily.
But in that case,” Jax looked around the lake as a sudden thought struck him.
“Where is her mate? With the eggs? It’s odd that she would be away from them for so long.
” He picked up a smooth pebble from the pile he had slowly collected over the course of the afternoon and tossed it into the lake, watching as the ripples spread over the surface of the water.
“If she does have cygnets on the way, it would make things easier on her. She’s less likely to mourn the loss of one baby if she has several others to look after. ”
But none of that solved the problem of getting her to step away long enough for him to get the dragon away in the first place.
For whatever reason, his magic clearly didn’t work on her.
He watched as she led the dragon through the long grass around the side of the cottage, focusing his magical senses on isolating her music.
He was familiar enough with the different types of swan songs to know that hers wasn’t quite right.
The melody was there, but it sounded as if it had been superimposed over an entirely different piece of music, with the magic alternating between harmony and dissonance as one strain fought for dominance over the other.
He shook his head. “Nothing in this place makes any sense. If I didn’t have such a respect for loons, I would call it downright loony. No wonder my magic wasn’t effective.”
The sun dipped below the horizon and Jax stood, brushing the sand from the seat of his trousers as he sighed, directing his comments to the other swans.
“Whoever this Odessa person is, she clearly doesn’t take her job very seriously.
I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of anyone all afternoon.
I hope that Dmitri fellow hasn’t forgotten about me. I could use a snack.”
“That ‘Odessa person’ has better things to do than sit at home all day waiting to entertain strangers who choose unfortunate times to go swimming.”
He spun around at the feminine voice, an apology on the tip of his tongue, then immediately forgot every word he had ever learned at the sight of the woman in front of him. “I’m…”
She was a vision, a dream dressed in white linen with a floral apron tied around her waist. Her silver blonde hair fell in a soft cascade around her sleeveless shoulders, highlighting eyes that put the vibrant feathers of a blue jay to shame.
He had a vague, fuzzy memory of those eyes hovering above him in a pale, beautiful face with perfectly pink lips asking him for his name.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting her brows and chin pointedly. “You’re…?”
“You kissed me!” he blurted. It was not at all what he had intended to say, but the sight of her had brought all the memories flooding back, and he found it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.
She reared her head back in surprise, an unwelcome disgust twisting her mouth. “I most certainly did not.”
“You did.” Now that the words were out, Jax found himself relaxing into the flow of conversation. “I was there.”
“So was I,” she drawled. “And I definitely don’t remember kissing you.”
“It must have been some kiss, to leave your mind so addled that you can’t even remember.”
“Or completely forgettable,” she deadpanned.
“So you admit there was a kiss?”
She threw her hands up and her head back in exasperation. “I didn’t kiss you! You drowned, and I was trying to save you—something I am regretting more and more each minute.”
Her display of emotion was punctuated by what sounded like the roar of an angry kitten, and the dragon came bounding around her skirts, planting himself between Jax and the woman. He glared, dropping his head and spreading his wings wide, and attempted to blow a fire ball in Jax’s direction.
“I’m fine, Bean,” the woman said, her tone shifting from annoyance to maternal patience. “He’s just being rude.”
Jax held up his hands, the topic of the kiss forgotten by the burning curiosity of how she seemed to know his dragon better than he did when he had been watching the creature all afternoon. “I’m sorry. I started that all wrong. I’m Jax.”
The woman pitched her voice high, barely moving her mouth as she added, “Thank you for saving my life.”
He took the hint. “Thank you for saving my life. Truly. I was certain that I had died until I woke up and everything hurt.”
She nodded once, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’re welcome. I’m Odessa.”
Jax grinned. “I hoped so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. It’s just a pretty name.”
She eyed him warily, and there was something about the expression that tickled the back of his brain.
“Soooooo,” he stretched the word out. “How do you know my dragon?”
Odessa looked down at the hatchling, then back at him. “He’s not your dragon. And his name is Bean.”
It was Jax’s turn to cross his arms. “I nearly died chasing his egg down. What kind of a name is Bean?”
“It’s short for Beanjamin, and you would understand if you saw the way he absolutely tore through the bean plants in my poor, neglected garden. You’d think the poor thing was starving and hadn’t already eaten more than his weight in berries and bugs within the last few hours.”
“Dragons grow exponentially during their first few months,” Jax answered absently as his mind worked overtime.
She had mentioned the garden as if it had occurred recently, though the only time the dragon had been out of his sight that afternoon had been just before sunset when it had disappeared with the swan around the corner of the cottage.
“The swan…” he murmured.
“What?” Odessa’s question was sharp, but he barely heard it.
Where did it go? It seems strange that it would suddenly abandon the dragon—Bean, I guess—after guarding him so fiercely. Maybe it has a nest behind the cottage?
He opened his magical senses again, attempting to locate the bird. He froze, his jaw dropping and his eyes going wide as the final piece clicked into place.
“It’s you,” he said, stating what now seemed embarrassingly obvious. “You’re a swan.”