Chapter 10
The witch joined Kier hours later, sourer than before. Dark circles had deepened underneath her eyes, and she generally appeared unwell.
She was sluggish in her movements as she sorted through the books. At one point, he thought her head might have nodded as if she were falling asleep, then she jolted and sat up straighter.
Kier pretended he hadn’t seen. It was far from his business.
When she left to feed his sister once more and didn’t return, he went in search of her. He found her in the cooking alcove, wooden spoon in hand, with her head against the table next to her own bowl. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted.
Dear heavens, she’s gone boneless.
He’d never seen a female this lethargic during her cycle, and he’d been surrounded since he was a hatchling. Kier had one brother, and the rest of his siblings had all been female. It might be why he was so patient.
He gave up on waking her and changed his size to enter the alcove. He attempted to serve up a bowl quietly, in which he was successful. It was his tail knocking against her ankle that caused her to suck in a sharp breath as she sat up.
“I’m awake!” she blurted, once more with a hoarse voice.
She sounded awful. She was raspier than before.
“I’ll make you a stronger potion for the dust,” Kier offered, taking pity on the witch. “And perhaps something better for your other... concerns.”
She came up beside him to steal the bowl from his claws. “N-no. It’s okay. It should fade soon.”
His gaze landed on the purple scarf around her neck. Has it been there the entire time? He couldn’t remember if she’d worn it over her hair earlier or not.
He tried not to pay much attention to her, as looking upon her caused odd feelings to stir.
He was a little awestruck by her beauty, her gaze captivating when it snagged his own, but the sentiment was mixed with a niggling guilt due to her suffering, her entrapment.
He’d rather she be evil so he could experience none of those conflicting things.
“Go rest,” he demanded, reaching for the bowl.
Due to him being shorter at his current size, she lifted it above his head, the pesky witch!
“No.”
Then she ran off with it, and Kier looked at the closest wall, wondering how much it’d hurt to bash his forehead against it. She’s irksome. Sometimes I wish to head-butt her. But he couldn’t do that, as he’d likely cave her skull in or gouge out an eye with his jutting head spikes.
But admittedly, since he’d slept... her dismissiveness of his demands bothered him less. He felt better, calmer even. More himself.
He’d sorely needed it.
He hated that he’d needed convincing and hadn’t realised just how badly his thoughts had muddled due to his lack of rest. Would he have made wiser decisions before bringing her here?
Would he have found the answer himself had he not allowed his mind to fixate to the point that it’d become self-destructive?
How much time had he wasted by believing he’d been using every minute wisely by forcing his eyes to stay open?
These thoughts plagued him.
They plagued him as he returned to the books, and she joined him soon after. The silence was heavier than normal, simply because she no longer muttered to herself. The little comments she’d made, her playful complaints, and her surprised hums had filled in the space. Now she was quiet and dutiful.
His upper lip rose on one side in distaste at the change, but he said nothing. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The silence so he could concentrate? For her to be so quiet that he could pretend she didn’t exist?
Yet he couldn’t stop himself from wordlessly instructing her to continue as before.
She never did. Even when the hour grew late and her features turned weary, she never mumbled a single word.
Even when her head nodded languidly and she jolted herself awake, she didn’t make a noise other than the scraping of books or the flipping of pages.
Then she stood and nearly tripped over a book when she was moving one of her piles to one of the sorted ones.
“Go sleep,” he said, finding her sorry state unbearable.
“Not until you do,” she retorted.
The wall. Again, it looked very head-buttable. Surely it’d temper his annoyance. So small, so weak, yet she disobeys me. Any dragon would grow infuriated, especially towards a being they considered an enemy.
He turned to her and demanded, “Sleep, female!”
“No, dragon!” she yelled, rather loudly, only to groan and cup her throat. She coughed, and he eyed the scarf still around her neck.
Kier growled and slapped his tail against the ground with a definitive thud. She faced him and stamped a foot. He froze.
How... how dare she!
How dare she mimic his irritation and commands in her own human sort of way! And how dare he... find it humorous and infuriatingly charming?!
“Fine!” he yelled, stomping towards her. “If you won’t sleep until I do, then we shall go sleep!”
He picked the female up by her middle and carted her out of the alcove. She bashed on the backs of his knuckles.
“Put me down, you manhandling reptile!”
He could shake her, and he seriously considered it. But he refrained somehow as he made his way up the incline.
She squirmed in his hold, her legs kicking from where her knees protruded below his fist. She pushed against him with her arms, trying to slip herself through, grunting and groaning.
He brought her up near his snout so they could meet each other’s fierce gaze. “Why does it matter to you if I sleep or not? What I do at any hour is none of your concern.”
He realised he’d made a mistake in bringing her too close when she punched him in the snout. He froze. It didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t believe she had the audacity to smack him! Then she did it again, adding her other fist to hit him multiple times.
He’d never felt anything feebler.
“How dare you pick me up as if I’m a small pet!” she raged, after he pulled her away from his unharmed snout. “How dare you treat me this way! How would you like it if someone picked you up like this?”
“I’d never allow it.”
She blew her cheeks out rather adorably and folded her arms with her head turning away. “If I ever see you small, I’m going to kick you.”
Small like a feline? he thought, before his lips tightened to hold in his chuckle.
It’d be funny if he witnessed her kick a dragon that size. He could imagine her putting her all into it and watching her victim fly a short distance, caught unawares that under all that guileless beauty was a sprightly little female wrought with vengeance.
I wonder how she’d act if we were better matched. He doubted he’d be safe.
That thought continued to tickle his chest with humour as he lifted her above her bedding, dropped her onto it, and she let out an oomph. “Then I shall never allow you to see me boot-sized.”
“Now I truly feel like a bird returned to a cage,” she said, tilting to rub her arse.
“I can truly cage you if you continue to be defiant.”
She folded her arms again. “Maybe that would be preferred. Then I’d no longer have to care about you.”
He reared his head back, dumbfounded. Care about me? Was that what she’d been doing? How ridiculous. He didn’t need her to care for him – he was perfectly fine on his own.
Still, his ire did soften as a tiny, meagre amount of warmth flared in his chest.
It was forgotten when she went to stand, so he placed his hand over her body to keep her down, just like the first night they’d met. Except this time, he didn’t crush her. No, he was gentle, just demanding.
“Rest, female.”
She pushed up on the cage of his fingers uselessly. “No. I don’t trust that you won’t return to your books.”
“I won’t,” he said.
Her eyes squinted. “I am too tired to deal with your lie tonight, dragon.”
“Then I swear it. I shall sleep, as you have so boldly instructed.” When her lips pursed and her mistrust deepened, he sighed. “You’re right. I haven’t been resting. You’ve made me see how poor of a mistake that was.”
Her pushing ceased, but her expression shifted into suspicion. “A-and eating?”
He cocked his head at that. Yes, she’s very observant. She’d already deduced much about him without ever being told. He thought he’d hidden it well.
“I can go without food for some time.”
“But you need it. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
Kier let out an exhausted sigh. “Why must you always argue?”
“I’m not arguing,” she bit out. “I’m just always explaining why I’m right.”
To his dismay, she happened to be right quite often – not that he’d admit it to her.
“Human food doesn’t sustain dragons,” she continued. “You merely curbed your hunger.”
“Why do you care so much about my welfare?” Kier asked, genuinely confused. “I’m your imprisoner.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Thought you might be less of a grouch.”
Bold as her words were, and however true they may be, any warmth in him faded. For a moment, he thought she was truly worried about him, and he’d been about to muse on how that made him feel. At least the truth of her words was far less confusing for him.
No. She does not care for me, only how I treat her. And in her defence, she had every right to care about that. He had been sour and temperamental, and some rest had shown him just how much. I shouldn’t mistake her kindness.
She had ulterior motives.
Kier removed his paw from weighing her down.
“Goodnight, witch,” he pointedly said, just as she had the night before.
She slitted her eyes at him and sneered.
He turned away as he inwardly chuckled, his eyes crinkling with humour before he stopped himself. He wondered why he found that funny, but then he mentally shrugged. Perhaps I find her attitude funny. If she was a dragoness... He wondered if he would’ve liked her.
It didn’t take him long to figure out the truth. He would’ve found her far more infuriating and would’ve had almost no tolerance for it.