Hungry was an understatement. Cedric felt the roar of it deep in his gut, the morning shift always stirring a ravenous heat that gnawed at him from within. In his earliest days of this curse, an almost bloodthirsty need for food had consumed him. He’d since fought to wrestle control from the beast inside, careful never to let hunger turn to frenzy. Gwenna complained he ate too little, that he should feed himself properly—but Cedric had grown wary of indulging anything that smacked of draconic instinct.
He ducked his head beneath the stable’s doorway, stepping inside with careful grace to avoid scraping the timbers. Their makeshift “dragon quarters” were as homey as a barn could be, mostly because Gwenna insisted on it. He cast a fond glance at the floral tapestry she’d hung on the far wall—a bright bit of color that always lifted his spirits. Initially, he’d scoffed at her effort, but privately, he enjoyed having something pretty that was just…for him.
His sister had set a simple meal on a sturdy wooden table: a bowl of porridge and eggs for herself, and a generous plate of bacon and fried eggs for him. He padded over, lowering his great head so he could reach. The aroma of crisp bacon made his nostrils flare. At once, his stomach snarled a demand, and he gratefully tore into the food.
“So,” Gwenna said around a spoonful of porridge, “any sign of trouble on your flight?”
Cedric shook his head, a quick side-to-side motion. He was careful to pick up a slice of bacon with his scaly dragon lips instead of snapping up the entire plate—an exercise in finesse he’d mastered over the years.
“Good,” Gwenna murmured, though there was a furrow between her brows. “That’s good.”
That slight hitch in her voice set Cedric on alert. Something bothered her. He huffed softly, dipping his head until they were at eye level. She seemed reluctant to speak, her gaze sliding away.
After a moment, she sighed. “Sorry. I’ve just been thinking a lot. Your birthday is coming up.” She paused, swirling her spoon in the porridge. “Hard to believe it’s been this long since…”
Since I transformed. Since I tore our lives apart. The bacon turned to ash on his tongue. Memories unspooled in his mind: the bright glare of dragonfire, the screams, the horrifying realization that his own body had caused such devastation.
That he had done those things.
Gwenna stood, coming around the table to place a warm hand on his shoulder. Her palm felt small against his scales, but no less comforting. “I don’t regret it,” she said fiercely, voice trembling with conviction. “None of it.”
But how could she not, when it was his own monstrous form that had brought about their parents’ deaths? He blinked, lowering his gaze to the freshly swept floor. He’d never forget the sight of blood on the palace marble or how it had felt to flee into the night, leaving everything behind. How was she so forgiving?
Gwenna’s hand slid in small circles over his scales. “Ced, we’ve been over this a thousand times. It’s not your fault.”
It wasn’t. The problem was, they didn’t know what had brought on his transformation. Maybe if they’d been back at Mirathen, they could have consulted the great library there. Consulted with scholars and wizards. But they didn’t have any of that, not here. They only had their wits and each other.
He exhaled a gusty, unhappy breath. She had sacrificed so much to be with him. To help her brother through the worst years of his life.
Gwenna pinned him with a familiar, exasperated look. “Enough. I can see those gears turning in that thick skull of yours.” She offered him a small smile. “I know you, Ced. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”
He gave a low rumble, something halfway between a sigh and a growl. If only letting go of guilt was as simple as Gwenna’s words. Still, he was grateful for her love; he’d have lost himself in despair long ago if she hadn’t been by his side.
They returned to their meal in relative silence until Gwenna cleared her throat. “We’re running low on supplies again: flour, thread…the usual. One of us will need to head to town soon.”
Cedric nodded, swallowing the last bite of egg. He reached out carefully with one foreclaw, pointing toward the door that led to his wood shop. Gwenna’s face brightened at once.
“You’ve finished some new carvings?” she guessed. “Wooden dragons, I presume?”
He huffed, nodding. It was ironic, making miniature versions of the creature he’d become. But the carvings sold well enough, and children adored them. If it helped them survive, he’d keep carving dragons, knights, even silly goats if it came to that.
“Perfect,” Gwenna said, her earlier somber mood lifting a fraction. “We’ll trade them in town for what we need.”
Cedric had delicately lipped up another piece of bacon when a commanding bleat broke their peace. He and Gwenna exchanged tense looks. Clarence might be a handful, but they’d only heard that particular tone on occasions when danger lurked in the woods.
And not just any danger. Knights on the hunt.
Gwenna set down her spoon, wetting her lips and appearing to be more composed than Cedric knew she was. “Well, it seems like we have visitors. Ced, you should probably stay put in here for now.”
Cedric snorted, shaking his head to show his disdain for her idea. Even though he knew it was the most logical, at least for now. If he tried to fly away, they’d see him. And if he flew off, Gwenna would be vulnerable.
She sighed, patting his shoulder. “I know. But I’ll stay hidden while I see what’s going on.” Gwenna cracked a grin. “Besides, this’ll be a good chance to see if my new defenses work. We agreed it’s better to scare them off rather than…well, you know.”
True enough. Cedric had enough blood on his claws. They’d gone a few blessed weeks without invaders, and Gwenna had put her very un-princesslike hobby of tinkering to good use. Wouldn’t it be worthwhile if it scared away their foes before Cedric and Gwenna had no choice?
Finally, he nodded, though he made a grumpy noise to make it clear he didn’t like it.
“Be back soon!” Gwenna headed out of the stable, shutting the door securely behind her.
