Alixor lands gracefully, his shift seamless as his clawed foot changes into a booted human one, swaying the pale yellow grass, the dust of our dry land billowing around him. As he approaches, he looks me up and down, a warm smile on his face. He’s given me this look before, and I would be lying if it didn’t make me feel wanted. But that’s not enough, either. There’s something inside me, calling for more.
“Absolutely radiant—as bright as a thousand suns,” he says, reaching for me. I give Kalixta’s hand one final squeeze before releasing her and stepping forward, placing my hands in his. “You have grown even more beautiful since I chose you.”
I tip my chin up, demanding his gaze meet my eyes, away from the loose, sheer, waist-high skirt that barely conceals my legs, away from the sleeveless, high-neck croppedtop that covers my marking, but leaves my midriff bare. I don’t have a bag, since I’m given clothes to wear in the sky kingdom, so my tincture is tucked between my breasts, Ninon’s pin tucked into a simple bun at the top of my head. “And what else is there?”
“And what else is there,” he says in agreement, as if I didn’t ask a question, but had simply stated,But what more could there possibly be in the person he chose to bear his offspring?
My breath halts in my chest, every instinct telling me to turn and run. Maybe Kalixta was right this morning. Maybe I should have fled.
Alixor’s hands run down the length of my bare forearm, a frown pulling at his face. “What’s this?” He lifts my arms, revealing the scrapes I’d earned when I pulled Dashka out of the archery nook. Clicking his tongue, Alixor drags the palm of his hand across the abrasion, and heat radiates from him, more than what skin alone can deliver. When he removes his hand, he reveals my skin, healed but not without scars. There are some things even dragons can’t control.
Seemingly satisfied, Alixor touches my cheek with the hand that healed me. “Let’s not delay this any further. I was eager three days ago and that feeling has only grown since.” He tugs me to him, and my legs, always so strong riding Aspa across the Sere, feel weak and untrustworthy as they follow his lead.
I turn my head, watching my mother clutch Kalixta, the cries of my niece stolen by the wind. Alixor takes a step back from me to shift. I catch my mother’s eye and see the relief etched in the fall of her shoulders, the softness with which she strokes her granddaughter’s cheek. It’s what all the mothers want for us, and how can I blame her? This is all we’ve ever been told to want.
Alixor, now transformed once again into a large, pale bellied beast with bronze scales and soft yellow mane—the sun incarnate—lowers for me. I’ve done this countless times before. Foot atop his leg, I hike myself up over his body just as I would mounting Aspa. But I’m unsteady. Ifeel as if I’m watching my body move from afar.
The moment I settle, I hear the cries from my people. I hear their well wishes, the prayers for fertility, the praise for my service, but it’s as if I’m hearing them with my head submerged under water. What if the contraceptive doesn’t work? What if it works and Alixor keeps me in Dyeus for years. My hands start to shake. I can’t do this. I can’t. It’s then that my body and mind realign, words on my lips, the urge to shoutstopcloying in my throat. In that same moment, Alixor shoots us into the sky, and my heart and its protests drop into my stomach. The ground is far below and where there was once dread, there’s a tremendous relief. It’s done. There’s no turning back now. I’ve made my choice. Now it’s time to live with it.
The sky is dotted with puffy, low hanging clouds and Alixor delights me by following the curves of each one that lies in our path. The hot sun sets his bronze scales aflame, and like every moment I’ve spent in the sky upon his back, I feel that restlessness inside my skin sink down, content for now. Once, in the early days of visiting Dyeus with him, that sensation had nearly lulled me into thinking that being with Alixor was the right thing to do. But every time my feet touch the ground, the feeling dissipates, and I know it has nothing to do with him.
All too soon, the raw, deep brown rocky underearth of the sky kingdom comes into view. The closer we get, the more I can see gnarled roots and hanging vines clinging to every crack and crevasse. I don’t want to land. I’d be content in the sky all day, soaking in the sun, breathing in the crisp air, aimless, save for the pursuit of flying through the air. But that’s not why I’m here, and it beats my heart down every time I remember it.
When we crest Dyeus’s horizon, my breath escapes me. It’s terrible and beautiful. Mounds of rolling green hills, sprawling fruit trees, and sky-reaching buildings span across the islands. The touch of dew soothes my dry skin and brings the sweet scent of vegetation to my nose. It’s everything Nevoba isn’t. As magnificent as it is, it reminds me of how we would struggle to survive if the dragons ofDyeus were to suddenly to pull our weekly rations from us. Not that they ever would. They need us, just as much as we need them.
Alixor rises higher and beyond the white stone abodes dotting the mountainsides of the smaller islands, past the flowing rivers cascading down to drench the arid Sere below, the Sar Dyeus’s castle looms, vast and mighty. Home to him and all the elites in his personal hoard, the fortress is a towering white structure at the northern tip of the largest island, spanning nearly the entire width. High towers with pointed spires pierce the blue above and endless rows of wide peaked arches of open colonnades alongside open air walkways allow the dragons to come and go at their leisure. In the distance, dragons crisscross the sky, their bodies moving in languid, serpentine waves through the air. The constant temperature is ideal, not too hot, not too cool, allowing for all the structures to be open to the outside world. No scorpions scuttle along the ground, burrowing into nooks as they do in Nevoba. No pestering flies. Nothing but total and complete paradise for the shifters of Dyeus.
It is, of course, one of the benefits of being chosen to breed. Once during each of the four seasons of the year, the carremai visit, and we have access to this beauty and bounty, this sheer luxury of living as we acclimate to their ways and rituals, as we strengthen our relationships to ensure a successful coupling. In the beginning I relished it. Felt entitled to it, even. But now it feels like a trap—the palace spires look less like the mountains they were meant to embody and more like teeth.
I grip Alixor’s mane, and feel the rumble of his approval beneath me. I’ll let him continue to think this is what I want. And when I don’t give him what he desires, he’ll return me home and choose another. I’ll let him think I’m at comfort and ease around him. I’ll take him to his bed, allow him access to my body, revel in my access to his, and then I’ll return to the hunt and be on with the rest of my life.
Alixor takes us towards the castle’s central promenade,flying above the dwellings nestled in the lower valleys among the hills that house the faction of dragons called the merchants. Their duties include crafting and trading coveted dragon glass for fabrics or food or spices from places over the mountains. The smaller outer islands are home to the collectors who perform the grim work of collecting the bodies of rogues that have been slain and the souls of the mortals who’ve passed in the land beyond. It’s then the duty of the Sar Dyeus’s elite hoard to deliver those souls to the gods.
Alixor lands in one of the palace’s vast atriums, allowing me to disembark before he shifts into his human form. I wonder what would happen if he shifted while I was still astride him, but something about that feels far more intimate than I’d like. I shake my head, dispelling the thought and the heat rising to my face.
“Are you all right?” Alixor asks, noting my distress. He cups his hands around my cheeks, surveying my expression. “Are you feeling ill? Did the ride not sit well?”
Feeling entirely uncomfortable, I gently remove his hands on the pretense of holding them instead. “I’m well. I love flying, always. I’m just getting used to the idea that I might be here longer than a few weeks this time.”
He smiles. “Well, hopefully not too much longer than that.”
One can hope, I think to myself.
“Not that I mind taking my time with you,” he whispers in my ear, low and suggestive.
His words cause a resounding pulse deep in my core. Now that suggestion I wouldn’t mind. “I should hope so.”
“I meant to tell you the other day that I can’t stop thinking about the last time you were here. All the places we explored. The way you made me feel.”
I warm all over again, recalling that final day before he took me back to Nevoba. The little-used corridor and corner we’d found after dinner, the heat of our tongues on one another, our hands dipping between our bodies, fingers curling and tugging at our most aching parts. The way he’d turned me around and pressed himself against me while hisfingers worked me above my clothes.
“I remember quite well,” I say, breathless. Despite having no desire to produce children at this point in my life—my desire in the act it takes to make such a thing happen is particularly strong.
He inhales deeply, scenting my arousal with a feral smile. His mouth catches my bottom lip between his teeth, giving me a playful nip. “We could start where we left off.”
“As enjoyable as that sounds, don’t we have somewhere to be?”
I know how this day goes—I’ve attended banquets for breeding ceremonies before and heard enough talk to know what to expect. Though, much of the conversation I’ve heard was of what to expect the night following the feast and celebration, which is something I’m already well acquainted with.
