Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Osha dreams sometimes of flying.

Of soaring through the sky, wind rushing all around her, borne up by something she cannot see. Still, she knows implicitly that it will protect her, keep her safe, never let her fall.

She knows because she fell once, and it—he?—caught her.

But that was so, so long ago.

She wakes and the dream slips through her fingers like water through a sieve.

And yet, while the memories fade, the feelings remain. The endless longing for flight, for belonging, for freedom.

Looking at the sky, she wonders what it would feel like to have wings.

On her eighteenth birthday, Princess Verosha Aniseya is to be married.

Prince Yord Fandar is a good man, her mothers tell her. Kind. Handsome. Their union will bring prosperity to both nations.

“Why me?” Osha had asked when first informed of the match when she was only thirteen, something at the back of her mind insisting that it isn’t right. That she’s not free to be betrothed. “Why not Mae?”

But Mae is the elder twin, set to one day rule their small nation of Brendok.

Meanwhile Osha is expendable.

She understands that now, as they prepare her like a sacrifice.

Instead of spending the day riding with Mae, their birthday tradition, or overseeing preparations for a feast, Osha subjects herself to the servants’ ministrations.

There in the lavishly appointed room she’s called her own since childhood, they bathe her with sweet smelling soap, dry her off with silk sheets, then rub lotion onto every inch of her body. They buff her nails and pluck her brows and finally spritz her with rosewater, before leaving her alone with Mae.

Her hair falls to her sister, her twin, her other half, who she must forsake today. She tells herself that it is not forever. This arrangement makes the nations of Brendok and Alderaan allies, trade partners. They will have ample reason to communicate and even visit with one another. She will be invited back for important events—her sister’s eventual marriage and coronation, though the latter hopefully not for a long time.

So why does Osha feel so certain that she’ll never see her twin again?

Mae’s hands move swift and sure but gentle through Osha’s hair. Sectioning the loose curls, she sets them into long braids, adorning them with gold; cuffs at intervals and pointed beads at the tip.

“You needn’t be afraid, Oshie,” Mae says as she works. “I know it’s frightening, but you’re strong. Stronger than you know. And besides, if he does anything to harm you, I’ll invade.”

Osha laughs, because Brendok has no army. But she loves her sister and her encouragement, though it does little to abate the disquiet that has grown within her as the day of her wedding drew near.

When Mae finishes, she kisses her sister’s cheeks and bids her wait, then disappears into the hall.

She returns bearing a silver tray with two floral porcelain cups and a matching tall porcelain pitcher. The sight fills Osha with delight, and she rises from her chair, her hair beads clinking in a melodic chorus as she moves.

“Hot chocolate?” she asks in surprise. They drank it often as children but long ago set it aside in favor of tea.

Mae nods, placing the tray on a little table between two upholstered chairs. “In memory of times past, before you start your new future.”

The girls sit and sip the warm, sweet beverage, savoring their last moments as two halves of a whole.

But once they finish, Osha can put it off no longer. She rises from her chair and turns toward the bed where her wedding finery lays across the purple coverlet, translucent cream chiffon and lace dotted with tiny, shimmering beads.

Mae helps her dress. The gown skims Osha’s body, hugging the curves of her breasts and hips before falling to her feet. Thin straps leave her arms exposed and melt into a low, sweetheart neckline, long bows adorning the shoulders and spilling down her back. A slit up one side of the skirt flashes hints of her leg, and Osha feels beautiful and ethereal, but also rather as though she’s been made into a gift for her future husband.

Her wedding jewelry follows: a gold necklace, gold bangles, gold earrings. Finally, Mae pins the long, matching veil to the back of her braids.

And then it is time for the ceremony.

They walk through the palace’s stone halls, their guard trailing behind, a distant but constant presence. The beads in her hair chime, music that follows her footsteps. Mae remains by her side until the last possible moment, when they reach the hallway outside the palace temple.

Sounds spill from the room beyond. It must be crowded with guests from both Brendok and Alderaan as they await the union of their two countries.

“I’ll tell Mama that you’re ready,” Mae says, kissing Osha’s cheeks once more, before slipping inside.

Of course, Osha’s not certain if she is ready.

For as long as she can remember, Osha has felt as though she was waiting. And for just as long, something inside her insisted that whatever she was waiting for would come on this day, her eighteenth birthday. Because of her marriage, the logical part of her mind asserted.

And yet, nothing about this feels right.

It is not what she wants.

But what choice does she have?

The doors swing open, revealing a grand stone room packed full of finely dressed people. Her betrothed stands in the center of the circular space with his parents, Osha’s mothers, Mae, and the priestess.

Everyone turns to face her, and Osha steps into the temple to meet her fate.

Slowly, she moves toward the center of the room. Her betrothed is handsome enough, as she’d been promised, though she does not feel the spark she had hoped for. Still, he smiles kindly when she draws near. Taking a deep breath, Osha tries to force herself to relax. But she cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong.

A hush falls through the crowd as Osha reaches the wedding party where they wait. The sudden silence does nothing to ease the tension within her and she can’t make out the words the priestess speaks to start the ceremony. She feels as though she’s trapped in a fog, everything distant and muted.

Looking across the small circle of people at the man who is to be her husband, the sense of dread grows, and she doesn’t know why. He does not seem callous or cruel. Still, the wrongness pulses within her like a second heartbeat.

At the priestess’s urging, Prince Yord reaches for Osha’s hand. She puts her clammy palm in his wide, dry one, because she’s supposed to. Because she must.

Together, they kneel, bowing their heads.

The priestess speaks the ceremonial words over them. Osha’s heart beats so hard in her chest, her hand shaking in her betrothed’s grasp.

And then the priestess asks Osha to say her vows.

She opens her mouth to speak the words, but she can’t get them out. She can’t breathe. She can’t do this.

Suddenly, one of the exterior temple walls explodes.

Shouts rend the air, courtiers scrambling from their seats to get away from the falling stone, others trying to get a better vantage from which to assess what’s happening. Osha tears her hand out of her betrothed’s and shoves to her feet in confusion and fear.

Mama and Mother quickly step in front of her, pushing Osha and Mae behind them for protection as the room descends into chaos. But Osha peers over her mother’s shoulder to watch a pair of giant black claws tear down stone after stone.

Soon a large enough hole appears in the wall to reveal the massive, hulking beast beyond.

The moment Osha sees him, she remembers.

Playing on the grassy bluff with Mae when they were eight. Slipping and falling to the river below as Mae screamed in horror. Osha thrashing in the water, unable to swim. Mae running to fetch help.

And then, all at once, something solid beneath her. Rising up out of the water, and up further still, into the air, carried aloft by some magnificent creature the likes of which she’d never seen before. And then—

Flying.

The sensation of perfect freedom.

Soaring through the sky somehow without wings, he’d brought her to safety, setting down on a knoll a little further from the village. Once on land, Osha managed to take him in. The sheer size of him, covered in red-tipped black scales except for the pale, jagged lines across his back that look almost like scars.

Osha slid carefully off, and then stepped up to his face, four times as long as she was tall. Twisting horns protruded from his head. And yet, she felt no fear, sensed no threat from him—the dragon.

Her dragon?

“Thank you,” she said. “I owe you my life.”

He closed his eyes in acknowledgement of the life debt and Osha rested her hand on his face, between his eyes, finding his scales warm and smooth.

A shudder passed through him at her touch, and he abruptly pulled away, lifting into the air. Osha stood and watched his long serpentine body climb the sky and disappear into the clouds.

Looking across the distance at his gleaming, dark eyes, Osha knows exactly why he’s here.

He came back for her.

Somehow, in her heart, she knew that he would. Had dreamed of him these past ten years, even after the memory of their encounter faded. Part of her hates that she forgot him at all. But her mothers had insisted for so long that it wasn’t real, that he wasn’t real, even as no one had been able to explain how Osha got out of the river and to safety.

This is what—who—she has been waiting for.

Osha tears her eyes away.

“I told you,” she shouts, and her mothers turn to face her, shock and horror writ across their features as the dragon resumes tearing apart the wall behind them.

“Ten years ago,” Osha continues. “You refused to believe me. You made me think it was all a dream, but he’s real. He saved me. I owe him a life debt, and he has come to collect.”

Stone by stone, he brings the wall down, until the only thing separating him from Osha is the crowd of panicked wedding guests. Noise and commotion fill the room, dust from the debris, bells tolling. But the only thing Osha sees is him.

He looks even bigger now than he did when she was eight. Or perhaps it is only that now, at eighteen, she better understands the damage he could inflict with those vicious claws, those sharp teeth.

And yet, she knows in her heart that he will not harm her.

She steps toward him.

“Osha, no,” Mae protests, grabbing Osha’s arm. “You can’t mean to go with him.”

But looking at the dragon, Osha feels only determination.

“I must.” Even if she did not wish it, she would go to save the lives of her wedding guests, and to fulfil the life debt.

But Osha does wish it.

Pulling her arm free, she walks toward him without looking back.

“Do something!” Yord shouts behind her, presumably to her mothers. “Stop her!”

But there’s nothing to be done, and her mothers know it. A life debt is a life debt; a promise, one she is compelled to fulfill. If she does not go with him, she will feel its pull for the rest of her life.

Her hair beads chiming, Osha pushes through the crowd of people rushing in the opposite direction, then climbs over the rubble to get to him. The dragon lowers his face once she’s near, just as he’d done all those years ago.

“I remember you,” Osha murmurs, putting her hands on his warm scales.

And just like ten years ago, he closes his eyes, almost as if he’s savoring the feeling of her touch. She strokes her hand down his muzzle, and he huffs out a hot breath that ruffles her long skirts. He smells like water; like fresh rain and the salty sea together at once.

Behind them, the panic continues. Osha knows that if they linger, someone will be stupid enough to try and fight him. She doesn’t worry that they will succeed in hurting him, only what he might do in retaliation.

“How do I get up?” she asks, hoping he can understand. When last she flew with him, he’d come up from beneath her, and she’d simply grabbed on.

He does understand and lays his head on the ground, exposing the back of his neck. Osha climbs on, grateful for the slit in her skirt, and takes hold of one of the flexible, fin-like spines that run along the length of his back. Once she’s settled, he raises up, and Osha shoots an apologetic look at her mothers and sister before the dragon launches into the air.

The palace and the life she once knew quickly fade away.

And then they’re flying.

Osha laughs in delight as the dragon walks across the sky, feeling wild, feeling free, in a way she never has before.

Nothing in her life has ever felt so perfect.

Her veil whips behind her, and she grabs it with one hand, wrapping it around herself. It does little to combat the cold of being up so high, the oppressive wind, so Osha huddles closer to the dragon’s warm body, heat radiating off his scales.

They fly for a long time, much longer than they did when she was eight. They fly over the forest on Brendok’s western edge, to the ocean beyond. And then they keep flying; over the water until the shore is a distant memory.

Eventually, a landform appears in the middle of the ocean, a ring of mountains enclosing a small bay. They descend, landing on the sandy beach, the dragon once more pressing low to the ground so Osha can climb off.

Her body aches from sitting in that unfamiliar position for so long, holding on so tight with her arms and legs. She stretches as she looks at the dragon, who watches her with those dark eyes.

“Just to be certain,” she says. “You’re not planning on eating me, are you?”

The dragon huffs a breath, sounding almost offended, and Osha laughs. “I thought not.”

Turning, she surveys the island. The landscape teems with life: strange little gray creatures with long snouts wandering the beach, the green mountains beyond, the ocean lapping at the shore behind her, birds calling to one another as they wheel overhead.

Well, at least there’s lots to explore to keep herself busy.

“I hope there’s suitable food for humans,” she calls back to the dragon. “And somewhere to sleep out of the elements.”

“There is.”

Osha startles at the sound of the dark, low voice and spins to find not the dragon, but a man. A human man. A very attractive, very naked human man.

“Oh!” she shouts and turns right back around.

“My apologies,” the man says. “I am unable to control the change.”

A thousand thoughts fly through Osha’s mind, her heart racing in her chest. Her dragon is a man. A man is her dragon? Either way, they are one and the same. A being that can change between two shapes.

Taking a deep breath, Osha slowly, carefully circles to face him, curiosity overwhelming her propriety. Well, she knew she would see a man naked today, she’d simply expected it to be her husband.

And yet, is a life debt not a bond stronger than any mere human contract?

Still, she keeps her gaze elevated, looking at the man’s remarkable face framed by silky black hair. She sees the hint of the dragon in his sharp features, his angular cheeks and jaw. Dark eyes gleam; the same dark eyes she’s seen in her dragon’s face. And his mouth is the loveliest shade of pink, his lips so soft looking, and Osha feels the thread between them tighten.

“I—I did not know dragons could become men,” she stammers. “Or the reverse.”

“To my knowledge, I am the only one,” he responds evenly. “I’ve never met anyone like me.”

The words draw Osha’s gaze from his lips to his eyes, only to find that he’s looking at her with an intensity she’s never before seen. Fire burns in those dark orbs, the sight stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Why did you come back for me?” she asks.

He steps forward, until only the barest inch separates them. Though much smaller than his dragon form, he is still large for a human, towering over Osha, and so broad. He smells entirely different like this; warm and musky. His body radiates heat across the scant distance, the sense of his nearness pounding within her like a drum.

And then he lifts a hand to her chin.

“You belong to me,” he says, low, intent. “I could not allow that man to take what is mine.”

Unfamiliar heat pours through Osha’s body at the words, the slight pressure of his fingers against her skin, the intensity in his gaze. She knows she owes him a life debt, but somehow the way he says it feels like so much more.

He is so much more than she ever could have fathomed.

“What is your name?” she asks, the words a breathless whisper.

“Qimir,” he says.

“I’m Osha,” she replies.

His eyes trace heavily across her face. “I know.”

He knows…because he watched her? He must have, to have known she was getting married. Must have observed her from afar all these years.

You belong to me.

Without meaning to, her eyes close, her breath a heavy weight in her chest. The thread of the life debt, the bond between them, shimmers in her mind, calling her to reach out and grasp it.

Abruptly, his fingers fall from her chin, and the sense of his proximity disappears.

“Come, Osha,” he instructs. “I will show you your new home.”

Opening her eyes, she finds him walking away, deeper into the island. Quickly, Osha follows. The beads in her hair ring metallic as she hurries to keep up with his long, confident strides, her own footing unsteady on the shifting sand.

Like this, she cannot avoid looking at his naked figure. But at least there’s no chance of seeing his manhood again, that one glimpse enough to make heat permanently stain her face. His human shape has broad, powerful shoulders, muscular arms, strong legs. But it’s his back that captures her attention, a wicked scar marring his golden skin, the match for the discolored scales on his dragon form.

What could have caused it? It seems impossible to think of anyone harming him in either of his shapes.

Her new home turns out to be a massive cavern, large enough to house Qimir’s dragon form. The space stands empty, but for a collection of human-sized furnishings along one wall—a single, small bed, a table with two chairs, and a chest of drawers. There’s also a small firepit, and a shelf with pots and pans and other dishes.

“I apologize that I don’t have better accommodations for you,” Qimir calls over his shoulder as he approaches the dresser. “If I could control the change, I would have built a house for us. But I tried that many years ago and destroyed several structures. Thereafter, I learned to make do with what the island provides.”

Opening the drawers, he removes a pair of breeches. Osha averts her eyes as he puts them on, staring at the dark stone floor and considering his words; the fact that they hint at him being far older than his human figure suggests, the fact that twice now he’s said he cannot control his shifting shape.

Apparently, breeches are all he means to put on, because he returns to stand before Osha, his feet and chest still bare.

“Why can’t you control it?” she asks, peering up at him, his expression still intent upon her face.

But at her question, the light in his eyes dims, a creeping sadness shadowing his beautiful features.

“I can’t speak of it,” he says, an edge to his words making clear that he truly means he is incapable of telling her, not that he does not wish to.

It strikes at Osha’s heart, that knowledge, and the obvious unhappiness it causes him.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

The sadness fades, and he once more reaches to touch her face, knuckles brushing across her cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my Osha.”

His touch, the possessive word, once again elevates the rate of her heart’s beating. She feels like a deer being hunted through the wood, except she’s not entirely certain that she does not wish to be caught.

Perhaps she should be more wary. Dragon or man, she knows nothing of him, save that he rescued her twice—once from the river, once from a life she did not choose for herself. And perhaps it’s foolish, but she trusts him. Cares for him. Whatever his shape, he is her dragon.

Their lives are bound together, now.

His hand drops, and he tilts his head as he considers her. “Are you hungry?”

Qimir takes Osha out to show her where to obtain fresh water, where to dig up roots and find berries that are safe to eat. Though she’s accustomed to far finer fare, there’s something satisfying about gathering her own meal. She’s never done so before, but with Qimir’s instruction, she’s happy to learn. She’ll forage for food for the rest of her life, if it means keeping her freedom.

After, he brings her back to the beach and wades into the water with a sharpened pole as Osha sits on the sand and watches, the little gray creatures wandering around her. Even in his human shape, Qimir is every bit the predator, standing motionless until he locates his prey and then moving with a swiftness that her eyes struggle to follow. When he lifts the spear, a fish is stuck on the end.

They return to the cavern, and Qimir shows Osha how to clean and prepare the fish. And then he builds a fire in the pit and begins to cook their meal.

“Do you breathe fire?” Osha can’t stop herself from asking as she sits across from him, thinking of the stories she’d heard about dragons as a child.

“Only in my other form,” he says, the corner of his plush lips lifting in a little half-smile that steals Osha’s breath.

“Of course, I didn’t mean now.” Osha flushes, though she thinks he might have been teasing her. She puts the thought aside because it makes her feel too warm. “Have you always been able to change? Were you born a dragon or a man?”

He shakes his head, indicating that he cannot answer.

Disappointed, Osha puts the subject aside. But he hasn’t discouraged her asking, simply does not answer the questions he cannot, and so she continues. “What would’ve happened to us if you’d changed mid-flight?”

He’d borne her upon his back for quite a long while and could have changed into a human at any time. Would both of them have fallen to their deaths?

“The change has never come while I’m flying,” he says with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t think it’s even possible.”

Osha nods. In truth, it no longer matters. They made it here safely, and she knew when she went with him that she was leaving her old life behind. She will never go back, never have a reason to leave this island. This is her home now.

Night falls, and the temperature plummets. Sitting by the cook fire in her beautiful but flimsy dress, Osha has little to protect her from the cold and soon finds herself shivering. Qimir watches from across the flames, the firelight flickering over the frown that mars his angular features.

“Perhaps you should get in bed,” he suggests. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Osha protests, even as her teeth chatter. “It’s your bed.”

“It isn’t, actually,” Qimir responds, to her surprise. “I obtained it for you.”

“Oh.” Osha hardly knows what to say to that. Of course, she understands that he intended to bring her back here. That he has watched over her since she was a child. Still, the knowledge that he procured furniture for her is hard to truly fathom. Had he flown with it gripped in his claws? He must have. “Do—do you always sleep on the floor?”

“It’s easier than trying to stumble out of bed if the change comes while I’m asleep,” he confirms.

Given what he’d said about the houses he destroyed, she wasn’t sure if he had any warning at all. And he’d changed so quickly on the beach, earlier. “Do you usually know when you’re going to transform?”

“Yes, I feel it coming. It’s enough time to get out of bed, simply an annoyance to have to do so.”

With the confirmation that she’s not somehow inconveniencing him, Osha gladly climbs into the blankets. But even still, she cannot get warm enough, her body trembling with the cold.

Eventually, despite any potential inconvenience if he starts to change, Qimir climbs in beside her.

“I’m sorry, my Osha,” he murmurs, drawing her smaller figure into his arms. “It’s been so long. I forget that humans do not create their own warmth.”

He wraps himself around her, his body a fiery inferno, the heat of him soaking into her limbs. The shaking eases and Osha relaxes into his hold, Qimir so strong and solid behind her. Despite growing up in a palace, surrounded by luxury and always protected, never has she felt more comfortable or safe.

She soon falls asleep.

Osha wakes, alone but well rested, the blankets still warm from Qimir’s body. Stretching, she looks around the cavern, morning light flooding through the opening, but does not see him. She’s not ready to get out of bed, to leave behind the perfect warmth and faint hint of his scent that clings to the sheets. But eventually her body makes its needs known. She rises and heads to the place Qimir showed her where it is safe to take care of such matters.

When she returns, she finds him sitting beside the now burning cook fire, another fish laid across the cutting board, waiting to become their breakfast.

“Good morning,” she says brightly as she settles beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. The stone floor is cold beneath her, but the fire and Qimir’s body are warm.

“Good morning, my Osha,” he replies, reaching to stroke a hand along her braids, fingering one of the pointed gold beads at the tip.

He touches her so casually, so possessively, as if she truly does belong to him. The thought makes her shiver, and she doesn’t understand why. Never in her life has she wanted to belong to a man. But Qimir is not a normal man. He is her dragon.

“Will you show me more of the island today?” she asks as his hand drops and he sets about preparing the fish.

“Of course,” he says with a small smile. “For as long as I’m able.”

Delight rises like a bubble within Osha at the confirmation.

“How often does the change come?” she inquires, since that would be the thing to interrupt any exploring they might do. Hopefully it’s not one of the topics he’s prevented from addressing.

“There’s no set pattern,” he says, carefully removing fish scales with a knife. “Sometimes I spend an entire week in one shape, other times mere hours.”

“Is it inconvenient, not knowing?” she asks.

“I never used to care,” he says, flashing her a wry smile. “But that was before I had someone to converse with.”

The pleasure inside her grows at the implication that he enjoys speaking with her, spending time with her—and that she’s the first. That he does not make a habit of saving little girls to bind them to him, so that he might bring them back here for his entertainment. Of course, she’d known it already in her heart, that what they share is special, the bond of the life debt vibrating between them. Still, she appreciates the confirmation.

“Why did you save me, ten years ago?” she asks. Surely he must have had ample opportunity to rescue humans over the course of his lifetime. Why is she the first?

His attention returns to the fish. “I was drawn to you,” he says simply. “Even then.”

Pleasure hums over her skin. “Did you know that you would bring me here one day?”

“Not at all,” he replies. “I merely wished for your survival. But I kept finding myself returning, looking for you, watching you grow. Still, I would have left you in peace, if not for that man trying to take you.” He frowns, obviously thinking about Yord and the wedding. “I’m afraid my instincts took over at that point.”

“I wanted to thank you for that, actually,” Osha murmurs, toying with the lace-edged hem of her dress. “You saved me from a fate I didn’t want.”

“Because you don’t wish to be married?” Qimir asks.

“I don’t wish to be forced into a match not of my choosing,” Osha corrects.

“You want your freedom,” Qimir observes with a nod, putting the fish in a pan and holding it over the fire. “I understand.”

The warmth grows inside Osha because she’s certain that he does.

Once they’ve eaten breakfast, Qimir keeps his promise to show her more of the island.

“Do you prefer one form over the other?” Osha asks as they walk down to the beach. She knows he cannot tell her which is his original shape, but perhaps he can give her some insight in another way.

“I’ve spent so long going back and forth between them, they both feel equally natural,” he replies. “I am entirely myself either way.”

Well, she supposes that makes sense, even if it doesn’t give her the answer she seeks. Though really, it doesn’t matter. He is dragon and man both, how he came into the world doesn’t change that, though she wonders if he ever had a family.

The thought reminds her of her own family, and for the first time since they came to the island, Osha feels a little of her happiness dim. They must be so afraid for her. But coming here was her choice, and they had understood that. It will have to be enough.

She pushes the thought aside, instead honing in on how, once again, Qimir has alluded to being of a significant age. “How old are you, anyway?” she asks.

But that is another question he cannot answer.

When they reach the shore, Qimir points to a nearby pile of rocks. The little gray creatures scurry around and over, blending in with the stone.

“What are they called?” Osha asks, as they approach, Qimir kneeling in the sand.

“Skura,” he says, laying his hands on the ground.

To Osha’s surprise, one of the little gray creatures wanders over, utterly unafraid, and climbs right into his palm. Qimir rises to his feet in a graceful, fluid movement, turning toward Osha.

“Hold your hands out,” he instructs.

She mirrors him, and he gently passes the creature to her. Sparks chase across her skin when their fingers brush, her breath hitching, but she focuses on not dropping the little creature. It rewards her by nuzzling against her thumb.

“Oh!” she says in delight. “It’s so sweet.”

“Indeed,” Qimir responds, and she looks up to find him watching her with dark, intense eyes, a pleased expression on his face, and her heart stutters until he looks away.

The skura eat insects, he explains, overturning a boulder the size of a goat in a display of strength Osha hadn’t anticipated. It seems some of his dragon qualities remain when he’s in human form, besides his elevated body temperature, and unusual strength is one of them.

Immediately, the skura swarm, availing themselves of the feast Qimir uncovered. The one in Osha’s hands makes a chittering sound, and she gently returns it to the sand so that it may join the others.

After, Qimir brings her further inland, to a meadow full of wildflowers. Osha laughs as she spins through the field, warm in the midday sun, inhaling the flowers’ fragrant scents.

They forage for their lunch, and then Qimir leads her up one of the smaller island mountains. The hike leaves her a little winded—Osha’s only form of exercise in her past life was riding. Still, the view from up top is breathtaking, the sea sparkling below, and it gives her an idea.

“Would you…” she starts as they sit side-by-side, but she trails off because she’s not certain it’s appropriate to request. He’s not a horse to be saddled and taken out at her leisure.

But he presses her to continue. “What, Osha? You can ask anything of me.”

Heat builds in her cheeks, and she peers at him. “Would you take me flying again sometime? Is that—is that alright to ask?”

A grin spills across his face. “You enjoy it?”

She nods eagerly, delighted by his reaction. “Very much.”

He brushes his fingers over her hair, the beads clinking together. “I would enjoy that as well.”

Beaming, Osha leans against him, soaking in his warmth up there on the windy mountain top.

That night, there’s no further argument about who sleeps where. Qimir joins her in the bed, cradling her close and sharing his body heat.

Osha sleeps like the dead, unused to so much physical exertion, warm and safe in Qimir’s arms.

The following days continue in a similar fashion, and Osha settles easily into her new life—far more easily than she ever would have anticipated for someone who grew up in a palace.

Together they explore the island, talking all the while. Osha finally exhausts the questions Qimir is able to answer about his dual forms. They move on to discussions about Osha; her family, her childhood, the undesired fate she escaped by coming with him.

They do not talk about Qimir’s past. If he even has a past other than his existence here on the island, he is unable to speak of it.

Instead, he tells her stories. He has spent a great deal of time exploring the world’s oceans and seas, he tells her, and has seen many different lands, observed all kinds of different people and cultures.

Her favorite stories are the fairytales he collected in his travels. Stories of monsters and witches and curses. Sometimes, she thinks those stories have some deeper meaning, but she cannot say what they might be.

They have five days together before Osha wakes to find Qimir in his dragon form curled up on the cavern floor. In five days, she’d managed to forget just how large he is, filling the usually wide-open space. Even without him curled around her, she feels his heat saturating the cavern, though she misses his comforting touch.

Climbing out of bed, she pads around his coiled form, searching for his face. When she finds it, his eyes are open, his chin resting on the floor. As if he was waiting for her. Even positioned thus, his eyes are still higher than hers.

“Good morning,” she says, reaching to stroke the scales on his face. Qimir lets out a huff of air that sounds almost like a sigh of pleasure.

“I suppose it was bound to happen eventually,” she says, and sighs herself. “Though I’ll miss our conversations.”

Qimir lifts his massive head off the ground just enough to bump against her. It’s probably supposed to be comforting, but it nearly knocks her off her feet.

“Qimir!” she shouts, laughing, grabbing onto his snout for balance. “Be careful. You’re very strong, you know.”

He huffs out another breath—an acknowledgement, or perhaps an apology.

Osha’s stomach grumbles, and she sighs. “I suppose I’m on my own for food today.”

That means no fish—Qimir hasn’t taught her how to use the spear, yet. But even if he tried to, she’s not sure she would be capable. She doesn’t have his predator reflexes. Perhaps she could fashion some kind of net. She will have to search the forest for suitable material. It will give her something to do while she waits for Qimir to change back.

She hopes it will not be long until he changes back.

In the meantime, she looks forward to flying again.

And, as promised, Qimir takes her up into the sky with him later that day. It fills Osha with pure, unadulterated joy, and exhilaration. They fly for hours over the island and the glimmering ocean, and Osha has never felt so free.

Chapter Text

Three days after his transformation, Osha returns to the cavern from collecting her breakfast of nuts and berries to find human-shaped Qimir sitting at the fire, cooking a fish.

Happiness lights within her like a thousand stars bursting into existence.

She hurries to his side, only to falter when he looks up with a smile, her heart stuttering in her chest. Somehow, in only three days she’d forgotten the utterly exquisite shape of his face, the dark intensity of his eyes.

“You’re back,” she says, suddenly shy when presented with the full force of his gaze.

He tilts his head as he considers her, his lips lifted to one side. Some of the longish hair at the front falls across his eyes. “I never left.”

Heat floods her face, because truly, he had been with her the whole time. Well, except when she’d gone wandering inland where he could not follow. But even then, he’d been waiting for her when she returned.

“No, of course not,” she agrees.

Still, pleasure overwhelms her to have him in human form once more. To be able to hear his voice and see his expressions instead of carrying out one-sided conversations with his huffs and snorts serving as her only responses. His physical presence feels different, too. Though his body radiates heat in either form, something about his broad shoulders, strong arms, and smooth, golden skin makes her feel warm on the inside as well.

Settling beside him, she shares the food she’d foraged until the fish finishes cooking, and then they split that as well. All the while, the bond of the life debt hums pleasantly between them.

After, she rises to her feet, brushing out her long skirts. The once cream fabric now bears the faint gray sheen of cave dust, the hem dirt-stained and tattered from spending her days traipsing around the island. Looking down at herself, Osha sighs with distaste.

Qimir had provided her with a basin and cloth and soap for washing, so she’s not completely filthy. But her gown is another matter altogether, and she doesn’t wish to even think about her hair. While she’s grown accustomed to being a little dirty, part of her misses the small luxuries of her old life—the warm baths and endless supply of clean clothes.

Tilting his head to the side, Qimir studies her. “What’s the matter?”

“Just thinking it would be nice to wash my dress,” Osha admits, because they’re always honest with one another, when whatever binds Qimir’s words doesn’t prevent it.

“If you like, we can take care of that today,” he offers.

The idea tempts her. But to wash her clothes, she’ll need to take them off. “I would like to,” she admits. “But I don’t have anything to wear meanwhile.”

“I may have a solution for that.” Qimir rises and moves to the chest of drawers. From within, he pulls out a length of patterned, dark blue fabric.

“This is known as a sarong; they’re worn in warmer parts of the world. Center your back in the fabric, then wrap the ends over your front and tie the corners behind your neck,” he instructs, handing the fabric to her. “I will wait for you outside.”

And then he walks away, leaving Osha to change.

Carefully, she removes her wedding gown, leaving only her smallclothes and strapless breastband. Peering over her shoulder to make certain the cavern is empty, she removes those too. And then she winds the thin blue fabric around her body the way Qimir instructed.

It feels a little strange, to be bare except for a length of thin cloth, especially in the open air. The sarong doesn’t even cover her legs completely, exposing her knees and calves and feet. But at least the dark color will prevent the shape of her figure from showing through.

Gathering her things, Osha makes her way out of the cave, Qimir flashing his gorgeous half-smile when she appears. It still feels so overwhelming after three days without, and his eyes trail over her body in a way that makes her feel suddenly hot. But he simply nods with approval and tilts his head in the direction they need to go.

“This way.”

Osha follows him to the beach. Together, they stroll along the island’s perimeter to an area she hasn’t yet explored. The ocean waves lap gently at the sand as they walk, Qimir describing the tropical nation where he obtained the sarong. Osha listens with delight, so happy just to hear his voice, to walk beside him.

Eventually, they turn a corner and find themselves at the mouth of an outlet; a small river spilling into the sea. The sight of what lays beyond makes Osha’s breath catch.

A little further upstream stands a large pool, the tree-covered landscape around it sloping up and away. And at the far side, a waterfall spills over the open mouth of a cave. Where sunlight touches the water splashing into the pool below, the air shimmers with a rainbow of color.

“Oh!” Osha says when she sees it.

“I thought you would like it,” Qimir says, and Osha looks up to find a warm, satisfied expression on his face as he gazes down at her.

The way he looks at her makes the heat flood back into her cheeks. But Qimir just continues forward, leading her up along the edge of the river and then around the pool.

“Be careful,” he instructs as they walk. “The rocks are slick.”

Osha minds her step as they ascend, and Qimir brings her halfway up the side of the waterfall. They come to a halt on a natural platform in the rock where they can easily hold her clothing under the streaming water.

“Here,” Qimir says, reaching to take the clothes from her.

But the idea of him washing her undergarments fills Osha with embarrassment. “I’ll do it,” she insists.

Tipping his head, Qimir looks at her with mild curiosity. Nevertheless, he steps out of the way so Osha can move into place beside the waterfall. She shuffles closer to the edge while draping her gown over her shoulder to clean her undergarments first. But Qimir was right, the rocks are wet and slippery, and her footing suddenly goes out from beneath her.

Osha screams as she tumbles over the ledge and falls to the pool below with a tremendous splash. Panic floods in along with the cold water that surrounds her, filling her mouth and nose. She thrashes, feet scrabbling for purchase, but the pool is too deep. She can’t find the bottom, can’t get her head above the water, and she’s going to drown, going to die—

Strong arms wrap around her, dragging her up to the surface. They break through, Osha coughing and spluttering, her lungs burning as she struggles to take in air.

“I can’t swim,” she gasps, reaching blindly for something to hold onto. “I can’t—”

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Qimir soothes, his grip tight around her as his strong legs move back and forth, keeping them afloat. “I’ve got you.”

And, she realizes, he does. Trembling, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and presses her knees to his waist. “Don’t let go,” she begs, clinging to his warm, solid body like a sea star clings to stone. “Please don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “I won’t ever let go of you, my Osha.”

Her breathing eases at the words, and she tucks her face against his wet neck, her heart slamming in her ribcage. Qimir continues to hold her, treading water with her pressed against him. Despite his bulk, and the addition of her weight, he easily keeps them above the surface with just his legs.

Slowly, the panic recedes. In its place, quiet settles over Osha, a feeling of deep contentment. She listens to the waterfall’s splashing, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, birds chirping from their branches. Qimir’s heart beats a steady rhythm where their chests press together. It’s unexpectedly pleasant, floating in the water with him. But perhaps it shouldn’t surprise her; she always feels safe in his arms.

She also becomes suddenly aware of how thin the sarong is. Saturated with water, it clings to the curves of her body, outlining the shape of her breasts. Her nipples are hard, and not from cold; the heat of Qimir’s bare chest radiates through the wet fabric, providing ample warmth. She feels it as strongly as if they were pressed skin to skin.

The thought brings a flush back to her cheeks. He holds her in his arms most nights, and yet they’ve never been quite so entangled.

Gratitude fills her, that Qimir can’t see her face, can’t read her overwhelming awareness of his body.

“Are you alright?” he asks when her shaking finally ceases, his hands gentle where they hold her.

Osha nods, even though she’s not entirely certain it’s true.

“You have quite a habit of falling into bodies of water,” he continues as they float and bob together, but the words are fond, a smile in his voice.

“Twice in ten years is hardly a habit,” she insists, drawing back to look at him. “And both times happened with you present.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich, filling her with warmth. “Are you suggesting the fault is somehow mine?” Amusement glints in his dark eyes. “I did tell you to be careful.”

“I know,” she says, sobered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he says, eyes trailing across her face. “I’ll always come for you.”

Again, her heart beats a furious tattoo. But this time it’s not from fear, and she hides her face once more against his neck.

“Move to my back and hold on tight,” Qimir instructs. “I’m going to bring us to shore.”

Osha nods, though she feels a little disappointed that they’ll be getting out of the water because then she’ll have to release him. Still, she lets Qimir maneuver her around so that she clings to his back instead of his chest, and then he starts to swim.

He glides gracefully through the placid waters until he can stand. Reaching behind him, he pulls Osha to his front again, then scoops her up as he strides forward. She expects him to set her down when they get a little closer to shore, but he doesn’t. Instead, he carries her all the way onto dry land and places her on a large rock, warm from the late morning sun.

“Stay there,” he instructs, and she nods her acquiescence.

He returns to the water, swimming to fetch her scattered clothes that fell in with her. Osha flushes furiously at him handling her undergarments, though he seems unphased when he returns to shore and lays the clothing out on the rocks to dry, before settling on Osha’s other side.

They sunbathe for a while, allowing their bodies and clothes to dry. Osha tries and fails to ignore the feeling of the wet sarong clinging to her skin, her sense of Qimir’s nearness. She tells herself that it’s just her mind struggling to adjust to his recent shift back from his dragon form. That she’s still shaken from her near-death experience.

But she can’t quite bring herself to believe it.

The feeling stays with her throughout the day, even when they return to the cave.

And when nighttime comes, having Qimir back in bed with her is both blessing and curse.

Osha loves the feeling of his arms around her, and yet she cannot sleep. His warmth envelopes her, but instead of bringing comfort, it ignites a fire inside her.

After what happened at the waterfall, she cannot shake her awareness of his big, strong body, his muscular arm draped over her middle, his scent. That awareness pulses somewhere deep inside her, filling her with an aching hunger.

It leaves her feeling strung taut, a thread caught on a spindle, about to snap. She throbs with a need she’s never felt before, a burning pain that grows between her legs alongside an unfamiliar slickness.

Unable to get comfortable, it takes her a long time to fall asleep.

It’s easier not to think about the strange feeling from the previous night or her sudden increased awareness of Qimir’s presence when she’s busy. So, as soon as they finish breakfast the next day, Osha insists on continuing to explore the island.

They spend the morning combing the beach, looking at seashells that have washed ashore. Qimir holds them out for her inspection and describes the creatures that might once have lived inside. He smiles at Osha’s curiosity, her delight at each new discovery. And when the tide goes out at midday, he shows her the tidepools and their inhabitants.

For a while, Osha manages to put aside the new, overwhelming feelings.

But that night, when they lie curled together in bed, the hunger returns, stronger than before. She feels it most between her legs, a painful need, a desperate throbbing, that slick substance gathering at the seam of her body.

Mama had told her what to expect in the marital bed. At the time, she had thought it sounded like the worst agony imaginable. She had been prepared to lie there and let her husband force his way inside of her body, but she’d never thought it possible that she might actually want to perform the act.

And yet, her body certainly wants something and wants it with Qimir.

She can’t stop thinking about touching him, about him touching her. What would his big hands feel like on her waist, her hips, her breasts? But he has never given any indication that he might feel the same. Perhaps it is not possible for a dragon to desire a human, even one who becomes a human himself.

The question plagues her, keeping her up at night.

It’s almost a relief when his next transformation comes a few days later.

Two days after shifting into his dragon form, Osha follows Qimir down to the beach. She settles on the sand as he slides into the water, red-tipped black scales disappearing under the surface. A pair of skura come over to climb across her legs, and Osha sits, basking in the warmth of the sun and watching Qimir swim.

For a creature that can breathe fire, he loves the ocean, spending hours diving in and out of the white-capped waves. Osha never tires of watching him. He is magnificent in both of his forms, but at least with the dragon, she does not feel embarrassed for how much she enjoys looking at him.

His human shape, on the other hand…

Even without having seen him in two days, thinking of him floods her with fire.

It’s easier like this, when he’s a dragon.

So, of course, the change comes while she watches.

Osha hasn’t actually seen him shift before, in either direction. It happens so quickly. His body suddenly shrinks in on itself, scales peeling away to reveal that expanse of golden skin that fills her lungs with too-thick air.

When it finishes, he swims toward where she sits, strong arms propelling him powerfully forward.

Stopping when the water is waist height, he stands and calls out to her. “Aren’t you tired of watching? Why not join me?”

Heat stains Osha’s cheeks from the combination of his handsome face and body before her, and the embarrassment. He knows why she cannot join him.

“I told you,” she reminds him anyway. “I can’t swim.”

“Let me teach you,” he says. “You live on an island. You ought to know how.”

She swallows hard, eyeing the vastness of the ocean beyond their little bay. Though the waves are gentle closer to shore, they are far rougher further out. “I don’t know…”

“Osha,” he chides, and it’s the most stern his voice has ever been with her, making her heart flutter in her chest. “I will not let any harm befall you.”

Something within her aches, because she knows it to be true. He has protected her for ten years now. But even putting her fear aside, to get in the water with him, where he will undoubtedly touch her, doesn’t seem like a good idea.

“I can’t swim in my gown,” she argues.

His head tips to the side. “So remove it.”

The heat within her rages at the suggestion. It’s not as if the dress hides much, with its thin, clingy fabric. It’s not as if he hasn’t felt the curves of her body when he holds her each night, though his hands never wander. She’d been practically naked in that thin sarong when he rescued her from her fall into the pool.

And never once has he shown even the slightest interest in her as a woman.

The thought brings with it a wave of disappointment. But it also renders irrelevant any concerns about him seeing her undressed. So, with shaking hands, she strips down to her smallclothes and breastband.

Laying the gown across a large rock, Osha carefully steps into the water. It is a little cold, but the sun is warm overhead. She forces herself forward, her body slowly adjusting. Qimir watches her as she draws near, his eyes as dark and intense as ever, the weight of his gaze heavy on her skin.

She pauses a foot away, looking at the water droplets rolling down his chiseled torso, keenly aware that she is almost entirely exposed.

“Come here,” he instructs, holding an arm out toward her.

Swallowing, Osha steps into his embrace.

He’s not almost entirely exposed, she realizes once she’s pressed against him. He’s completely naked, heat erupting within her. But of course he’s naked, he just changed shapes. Still, her face burns.

And yet, Qimir doesn’t even seem to notice. But he isn’t human, or at least not fully human. He’s also lived apart from society for longer than Osha has been alive. He doesn’t have the same sensibilities that she does.

Wrapping his arm around her, he sinks down in the water so they’re both covered to their shoulders and then draws her out deeper. Osha clings to his warm, firm body, her mind torn between the embarrassment of his nudity and her fear, even though she knows Qimir won’t allow anything to happen to her.

“The first thing you should learn is how to tread water,” he says as he comes to a halt. “I’ll hold you up, while you practice kicking your feet forward and back.”

His hands move to her waist under the water. The touch of his big fingers on her bare abdomen makes her stomach clench and longing curl lower still. But then he moves her away from him, holding her at arm’s length. Osha stretches her toes toward the seabed, but she can’t touch the sandy bottom. Fear pulses inside her, and she grabs onto Qimir’s biceps, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m standing and I’m not going to let go of you until you’re ready, alright?”

Pressing her lips together, Osha nods, even though she doesn’t think she’ll ever be ready for him to let her go.

He talks her through how to move her legs, his grip on her waist firm as she tries kicking her feet back and forth. The movement buoys her up, and then he instructs her to let go of him and tells her how to use her arms to assist with keeping her head above water. It’s difficult. Her body has grown stronger in the two weeks since she arrived here, but only a little, and her legs more than her arms.

And then Qimir’s grip on her waist loosens, as if he might release her.

She feels her body start to sink, panic immediately setting in, and she reaches again for his arms. “No, no—”

He tightens his hold on her, drawing her to his chest as she clings to him.

“Breathe, my Osha. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He looks down at her, his eyes so soft, and her heart beats so fast from the combined fear and longing for him. “You have to trust me.”

Swallowing hard, she nods.

Once again, he holds her out to arm’s length and Osha moves the way he instructs. His grip on her waist loosens so he no longer supports her, and she fights to stay afloat, using every bit of strength in her body. She manages for a short while before the effort overwhelms her and she feels herself starting to sink lower. But Qimir immediately grabs her and pulls her back to him.

“Good, Osha, so, so good,” he says, wrapping his strong arms around her.

Osha pants with exhaustion and lets him hold her, inordinately pleased by his praise.

“I think that’s enough for your first lesson,” he murmurs.

Nodding her agreement, Osha wraps her arms and legs around him and rests her head on his shoulder. Even with her hyper-awareness of his nudity and the ever-present longing, she feels so serene in his arms, at peace. Like she’s exactly where she belongs.

For a while they stay like that, Qimir’s grip tight on Osha’s body, the ocean lapping gently around them, birds calling out overhead in the cloudless blue sky.

Eventually, Qimir swims them back to shore.

Without a looking glass, Osha cannot see her hair. But after two weeks without any kind of maintenance, and now swimming in the sea, she’s certain her braids must be a disaster.

So, sitting by the fire after dinner that night, Qimir’s warm body close at her side—thankfully clothed, now—she begins to take them out.

It fills her with a profound sadness, undoing the work her sister had so painstakingly installed. Knowing that she will never tend to Mae’s hair again or have Mae help with hers. Osha is so happy here on the island with Qimir. And she had known that she would be separated from her family on her eighteenth birthday. Still, she misses them, wishes she could tell them that she’s safe and well.

“Something ails you,” Qimir observes quietly as he watches, always able to read her so quickly, even with only the firelight to see by.

“It’s not important,” Osha demurs, fingers working carefully to remove the gold beads from her braids and untangle the strands.

“If it upsets you, then it is important,” Qimir says, firm. “Tell me.”

“I was thinking about my family,” Osha admits. “They must be very afraid for me.”

For a long moment, Qimir does not speak. The fire cackles in front of them, flames flickering and dancing, the scent of woodsmoke filling the cave. Osha returns her attention to her hair.

“Do you wish to go back?”

She looks up at the unexpected words, peering at Qimir’s angular features illuminated by the fire’s orange glow. “What?”

He considers her, dark eyes roving across her face. Though his expression remains tight held, some emotion lingers in his gaze. But Osha cannot read him the way he reads her, and so she does not know what it is.

“Do you wish to return to Brendok,” he clarifies. “I will take you back, if that is your wish.”

“No!” Osha’s hands fall from her hair, gripping her skirt, though what she really wants is to reach for him. The idea of returning to Brendok fills her with instant displeasure, a sensation of utter wrongness, the likes of which she hasn’t felt since that day in the temple.

“No,” she says again, measured this time, gazing up at Qimir as he looks back at her, something fierce pulsing between them. “I do not wish to go back to Brendok. Not permanently, anyway. Maybe someday, for a visit, but I—I like my life here.” She swallows hard. “And if I go back, I will have to marry Prince Yord.”

A scowl crosses Qimir’s face, the bond vibrating with irritation.

Knowing how possessive he is of her, perhaps it was unkind to mention her betrothal. But though he may not feel about her the way she feels about him, she loves seeing that reaction. Loves that even if he does not want her the way she wants him, he still wants her here. Almost as if he’s hoarding her the way dragons in stories hoard treasure.

And she loves how it immediately ends any noble notions he might have of taking her back to her family.

The truth is, she likes being hoarded by him.

Growing up, part of her always knew that her life lacked something. Like a piece of her was missing. Like she didn’t belong. Since coming to the island, she has not felt that lack even once. She feels whole, here, even with her unrequited desire for him. It feels as though they were made to be together, in one fashion or another. With Qimir, she feels free.

She does not want to leave him.

He reaches for her, tracing the line of her cheek with his finger. “If you’re certain.”

The touch leaves Osha aching. Still, she fights the urge to close her eyes, instead holding his gaze, feeling her heart beat harder in her chest. “I’m certain.”

He does not pull away, thumb resting on her cheekbone, his fingers threading into the hair at her nape.

“Is there anything you do wish for?” he asks. “Anything that would make you happier here?”

You, she thinks, gazing at his beautiful face, feeling the heat of his body across the scant distance

But she is too afraid to say it.

“Perhaps…clothes?” she says instead. “So I don’t have to wear the same thing every day. And some products for my hair? Would that be possible?” He must have gotten his own clothes from somewhere, the furniture, the dishes.

He nods. “When next I shift, I’ll take you back to the mainland. Usually when I wish to buy something, I have to wait around until the change comes again. But you will be able to go right into town and purchase whatever you need.”

“I don’t have any money,” Osha points out.

Qimir laughs. “Silly girl. We have more money than you could spend in your lifetime.”

Something inside her thrills at his use of the word we, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Whatever they are, they are a pair, bonded to one another.

Releasing her face, he collects the scattered gold beads from the cave floor and stands.

“Come,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

And then he reaches for her.

Osha lets him pull her to her feet, expecting him to let her go thereafter. But he doesn’t. Instead, he draws her deeper into the cavern, to a tunnel opening at the back of the space. Osha had never noticed it, never having had reason to go back this far into the cave before.

Complete darkness envelopes them when Qimir brings her inside, the scent of damp stone meeting her nose.

“I can’t—I can’t see,” Osha says, a little frightened. “Qimir—”

“It’s alright,” he insists, tightening his grip on her. “It’s not far, and the path is smooth. Just hold on to me.”

She does, clinging to his hand with both of hers, her smaller fingers wrapped around his larger ones. His touch reassures her, as it always does, and they walk for a little while, their footsteps echoing off the rock walls.

As promised, after a few minutes the tunnel opens up into another cavern.

When she sees it, Osha’s breath catches. Thousands of tiny blue lights cover the ceiling like cerulean stars strewn across a stone sky. They cast a soft glow on the seemingly infinite piles of gold and gems that fill the space beneath.

Clearly, the stories about dragons hoarding wealth aren’t just stories.

“What—” she starts, unsure where even to begin, awed by the beauty of the cavern and overwhelmed by the fathomless riches it contains.

“Glowworms,” Qimir explains, gesturing to the ceiling. “They are bioluminescent insects that absorb energy and release the excess as light, causing the effect you see.”

Letting go of his hand, Osha steps further into the cavern, and Qimir takes the opportunity to place her gold hair beads safely in an ornate box.

“It’s beautiful,” Osha murmurs, turning to take it all in—the tiny living lights, the way the gold and gems glimmer in the radiant blue glow.

And then Qimir returns to Osha’s side, pulling her into his arms and holding her to his big, strong body. “Yes, it is.”

Osha’s breath comes suddenly hard, yearning surging inside her as she leans back against his chest. She feels so small, pressed to his warm, solid form, her mouth a little dry.

“And the rest?” she manages to ask.

“Collected over many years,” Qimir explains, tilting his head down to rest his temple against her hair. “The urge to hoard precious things never truly leaves me.”

The words ghost across her ear. She already knows that he wants to possess her, but it feels so much as though he’s saying that she is precious to him. Her heart races with the potential implications and the force of her desire for it to be true, her body trembling with need.

But Qimir misunderstands. “You’re cold. We should go back.”

Osha wishes so badly to tell him the truth. To turn in his arms and press her mouth to his. To taste him, touch him, return to the bed they share and give herself to him completely.

But he is not a human, or not merely a human. He is also a dragon, the piles of gold before them a glaring reminder of that fact. And though he claims possession of her, though she longs to be his in every possible way, she does not know if he might want the same thing she wants.

He has certainly had ample opportunity to act on it, if he did want it, but he never has.

So she nods, and lets him lead her back to the cavern, preparing for another long night of painful aching.

As promised, when his next transformation comes, Qimir takes Osha to the mainland.

He lands in a clearing in the woods and lets her off before disappearing back into the sky. Osha has to make the rest of the way on foot alone. But Qimir had talked her through the directions several times before the change came, in preparation for this. Had made sure she knew where to find his compass and a satchel for carrying her purchases, before they departed.

She carries those items with her now, as she traipses through the trees. Not so long ago, Osha might have feared walking alone through the forest. But though she cannot see him, she senses Qimir’s presence overhead, knows that he will keep her safe if she meets with any danger.

Thankfully, she does not, and Qimir remains hidden in the clouds.

Soon enough the town comes into view. Osha makes her way past the houses on the outskirts to the shops in the center. People bustle about, and more than one glances at Osha with obvious concern. She knows she must look strange in her recently cleaned but worn wedding gown, her dirty satin shoes. Still, she ignores them and heads first for a clothing store.

Qimir had insisted that she take as much money with her as she wanted. But Osha had known it was a bad idea to travel with any significant amount of gold. Luckily, she found some silver pieces amongst his hoard, more than enough to buy her whatever garments and hygiene products she might wish for without calling undue attention or inviting trouble.

She purchases two full sets of clothing, including undergarments and stockings, as well as silk scarves for her hair, a heavy cloak to wear while flying, a pair of sandals, and a pair of sturdy boots. The items won’t be tailored to fit her as perfectly as her wardrobe back in Brendok, but Osha doesn’t care. The ability to change clothes at all will be a vast improvement over what she currently has.

Next, she finds a shop selling hair and body products. She takes her time looking through the selection, picking out cleanser, oils, creams, and combs.

Once she finishes, Osha steps out of the shop, her attention catching on a flyer attached to a lantern post directly outside. It bears a sketch of Qimir’s dragon form, and she frowns as she walks over to the paper and reads what it says.

It’s an offer of reward for information or sightings of a black and red dragon, from the royal family of Alderaan.

Though there’s no mention of Osha, it’s obvious they’re looking for her.

She knew her family would be worried, but she never would have imagined this.

Tearing the paper off the post and shoving it into her satchel with her purchases, Osha looks around for the local postmaster. She needs to get word to her family, to tell them that she’s safe and well. She made this choice willingly and she does not regret it. And they need to tell Yord’s family to cease looking for her.

Finding the shop, she sends a missive to her sister, knowing that Mae will recognize her handwriting and accept the letter’s contents as truth. She just prays that Mae will understand, that her sister will accept the choice Osha made, and be able to convince their mothers and Yord’s family to call off the search. But it will take some time for word to reach her twin. Osha needs to get back to Qimir, and for them both to return safely to the island where they cannot be found.

She hurries out of town and returns to the forest, rushing through the trees, fallen branches snapping underfoot. As soon as she steps into the clearing, Qimir descends. Osha climbs onto his back, wrapping her new cloak around her for the flight. It helps with the wind chill, capturing the warmth of his body instead of letting it dissipate on the air. The ride is all the more pleasant for the lack of cold and yet worry gnaws at Osha’s stomach.

They land on the beach, and Osha climbs off. She drops her satchel and the cloak, and immediately begins to pace as skura chitter from among the rocks. Qimir huffs a breath in question, aware, as always, of her emotional state. So, Osha pulls the flyer out of the satchel.

“They’re looking for us,” she explains, showing him the crumpled paper. “They want to take me back.”

He lets out another harsh breath, but Osha can’t understand what it means, and the frustration builds within her.

“I really, really wish you were human right now,” she says.

Qimir presses his face against her side, offering her what comfort he can. Sighing, Osha wraps her arms around his muzzle, feeling the warmth of his scales through the thin fabric of her gown. Surely, if he was concerned, he would make it known to her even without being able to speak. And, really, he’s a giant, fire-breathing, sharp-tooth, sharp-clawed dragon. Even if anyone were to find them, he would not allow them to take Osha away if she did not wish to go.

She consoles herself with that knowledge as they head back up the beach to the cavern so Osha can put away her new things. But for the rest of the day and well into the night, her stomach refuses to settle.

Chapter Text

There’s no way for Mae to send word to Osha, not once they’re back on the island. And Osha isn’t willing to risk returning to the mainland unless absolutely necessary. Thus, she has no choice but to hope her missive found her sister and that Mae was able to fulfil the requests within. She relies on the knowledge that no one can find them out here, in the middle of the ocean. They’re safe.

And when Qimir returns to his human form, the first thing he does is take Osha in his arms.

“I will not let them take you if you do not wish to go,” he promises.

Though she had known it already, it still fills her with relief to hear him say so. To feel his strong body wrapped around her, breathe in his familiar, warm scent.

He holds her for a long, long moment, before pulling back just enough to peer down at her face. Clinging to his arms, she stares up at him, overwhelmed with longing. Something flashes in his dark eyes, and his jaw works as he considers her. But he says nothing further on the matter, and, after a little while, he releases her.

“Come,” he says instead. “Time for your next swimming lesson.”

Overly warm, flustered, Osha can’t even imagine a protest, and meekly follows him down to the beach.

As the days pass and they remain undisturbed, Osha begins to relax.

Qimir continues her swimming lessons, which get easier day by day, and they explore the island together a little at a time. Osha loves her new home, loves being with Qimir, even as she struggles with her ever-increasing desire.

She finds herself making excuses to go bathe more and more often, using the time alone to explore the way he makes her body feel, discovering sensations she’d never before imagined.

At night, she finds it more and more difficult to simply lie in his arms, and it takes her longer and longer to fall asleep.

Still, she’s happy. Truly content. She finally has the freedom she’s sought all her life. And even if she cannot have Qimir’s touch, she still gets his companionship, and she would not give that up for anything.

Days turn to weeks.

Once Osha knows how to keep herself afloat, how to pull herself to the surface if she goes underwater, swimming with Qimir becomes her favorite pastime. They do so daily, whether he’s in human form or dragon.

“Keep your arm movements slow and controlled,” he calls out one day as he’s teaching her a particular stroke, the sun shining down warm and bright. “Focus on the coordination between your arms and your legs.”

Taking a deep breath, Osha pushes off the sandy ocean floor and tries again. She swims to where he stands a dozen meters further out, using the technique he had demonstrated.

When she reaches him, Qimir pulls her up out of the water and into his arms, grinning. “Much better.”

The combination of his praise and his embrace fill Osha with liquid sunshine, and she wraps her arms around his broad shoulders. Her heart races the way it so often does when in close proximity to him, which is agonizingly often, given how inclined he is toward physical contact.

But even as it feels like torture, Osha craves every moment of it. He cradles her close, knowing that she cannot touch the bottom, and Osha uses the excuse to cling to him.

After a little while, he pulls back, gazing at her fondly. “You’ve improved quite a lot these past few weeks.”

“I don’t know,” she says, blushing, the water lapping gently around them. “I still have so much to learn.”

“Don’t diminish your accomplishments, Osha,” he says, faintly chastising. And then a wicked little grin crosses his face. “I suppose I will just have to prove it to you.”

All at once, he lifts her into the air and tosses her into the water.

Osha shrieks but manages to hold her breath before plunging beneath the waves. Momentum drags her down for a moment, but she quickly thrashes her arms and legs the way he taught her to push herself back up.

She sputters once she breaks the surface. “Qimir!”

He’d tossed her into shallower water, and she realizes that she can stand. Doing so, she turns, only to find that he’s right behind her, grinning. She shrieks again and splashes him. Qimir just growls and lunges for her, grabbing her up in his arms. Laughter spills out of her, as he swings her around in the water, and then he’s laughing too, holding her to his chest.

Pure, unbridled joy fills his face, and the sight steals Osha’s breath. She blinks at him, holding onto his biceps, awed, overcome. He’s so incredibly magnificent. Beautiful, but more than just beautiful. Wild, untamed, free—and also, somehow, hers.

Staring up at him, her gaze catches on his mouth, her breath coming hard. What would he do if she leaned in and pressed her lips to his? She wants it so badly she can practically feel it, imagines his soft, warm mouth against hers. Would he taste like water or like fire?

But as she considers it, Qimir goes stiff.

“The change—” he manages, pushing her gently but abruptly away from him, reaching below the surface to remove his breeches just in time as his body begins to ripple and expand.

Red-tipped black scales erupt from golden skin. Osha grabs his breeches and swims toward shore, putting any thoughts of kissing aside. Sitting in the shallows, waves rushing around her, she watches as Qimir’s giant, serpentine body swims further out to sea.

Weeks turn to months.

Joy and happiness fill every day, every hour, every minute with Qimir. The sensation of belonging and rightness shine as luminous as the sun that bathes the island in its brilliant light.

And yet, a creeping dissatisfaction takes root and slowly starts to grow.

It’s different from the lack she felt before coming to the island. This time, she knows what it is that’s missing. What she wants. And what she wants is Qimir.

But fear claws at her insides. Fear of rejection, of ruining their near-perfect existence by expressing her feelings and learning for certain that he doesn’t share them. Perhaps he could continue on after such an admission, but it would utterly destroy Osha. And so, she cannot risk it.

Everything else about life on the island is incredible. She should be happy, content. And for the most part, she is. But some days, he flashes that sideways smile at her and her heart aches.

Still, there is so much to discover on the island. Osha distracts herself by exploring, learning about the different plants and animals. There are no predators, save Qimir himself, so she feels no hesitation in her wanderings even when Qimir is stuck in his dragon form and cannot accompany her.

“I think I’ll go north today,” she muses aloud one morning as she cooks the fish she caught with her net and cleaned herself, the way he showed her. “I’ve not been up that way yet.”

He lays with his massive, scale-covered body coiled up, his horned head resting on his front paws beside her. Heat exudes from him in waves, effectively combatting the chill that clings to the cavern walls even on the hottest of days.

At her words, he huffs out a breath of acknowledgement, as strong as a gust of wind. The fire flickers in the pit, and Osha cries out in protest. But thankfully, it does not go out, and he nuzzles her with the tip of his snout in apology. Wrapping her arms around his face, she accepts the apology with a kiss to his scales, which may be the closest thing she ever gets to kissing him the way she truly wishes.

When she finishes breakfast, she laces on the boots she uses when exploring inland. She hasn’t worn her wedding gown since the day they returned from the mainland, happy to leave that part of her life behind. Instead, she alternates between her two new dresses, today’s a pale green embroidered with little daisies.

And then she sets off to explore.

She wanders for hours, just taking in the sights and sounds the island has to offer. With Qimir’s compass to guide her, she heads north. She finds a brook, crouching to inspect the lovely, colored stones gathered at the bottom, worn smooth from the flowing water. Later, she comes across a clearing where a small herd of deer grazes, and she sits for a while, watching them quietly, before continuing on.

After some hours, faint, strange noises rise in the distance. It’s hard to make out exactly what they are, so she puts the compass away and follows the sounds until the trees thin, and the noises grow clearer.

Splashing, grunting, shouting, something heavy dragging across sand—maybe several somethings.

And when she reaches the tree line, she finds something she never expected.

All along the beach, soldiers dressed in green and gold uniforms drag rowboats ashore. Tall ships stand in the distance beyond, their anchors cast, more rowboats making their way across the placid water, full of more soldiers. Fear swells within Osha, a drowning terror, freezing her where she stands.

“Spread out,” calls a voice that Osha’s certain she’s heard before. “If she’s alive, we must find her.”

And then she sees him.

It’s Prince Yord, handsome and gallant in his military regalia, a gold-hilted sword at his waist, a small assortment of jeweled knives sheathed on his belt. Any other princess would be overjoyed to see him.

But not Osha.

Panic holds her tight in its grasp, her body made of tension. How did he find them? How did he find them? Her heart pounds a furious rhythm, a drumbeat heralding an approaching doom.

Swallowing, she forces herself to take a deep breath and calm down, assessing the situation.

She doesn’t know if her message never reached Mae, or if Yord simply didn’t care about its contents. What she does know is that Qimir swore he would not allow anyone to take her. Whatever she is to him, she is his, and he knows that she doesn’t wish to leave. He will stop at nothing to uphold that vow and keep her there.

And in his dragon form, the damage he could potentially enact to ensure that goal is enormous.

Osha doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt. But Yord came here with an army, prepared for battle. If Qimir finds them, she’s not certain what he’ll do. He’d destroyed the palace temple to get to her, and that was before he’d known that staying with him is what she wants.

The best option would be to convince Yord to leave. Things happened so quickly that day in Brendok, perhaps he didn’t realize that she’d gone willingly. Perhaps, if she speaks to him, he’ll understand and accept that this is truly her choice. She has to at least try, for his sake, if not hers.

So, taking another deep breath, Osha steps out onto the beach and into the commotion.

“Prince Yord,” she calls to him.

Silence falls. The soldiers and Yord all turn to look at her, the only sound the waves lapping at the shore, birds calling to one another as they flit overhead. The prince’s brown eyes widen when he sees her, and he rushes forward, his footsteps awkward and unsteady on the sand.

“Verosha,” he says when he draws near, reaching to grab her by the arms. “You’re alright.”

He wears the same kind, earnest expression from the temple, his relief apparent. She knows he means well, and yet his touch makes her skin crawl, as does the informal—yet unfitting—address. No one who knows her well enough to drop her honorific calls her by her full name.

“Of course I’m alright,” she insists. “Let me go, please.”

But his grip remains firm, as if he didn’t hear what she said. “You were taken by a dragon. We were all so worried.”

“I wasn’t taken,” Osha reminds him. “I went with him willingly. And I’m perfectly fine. So, you can go home and tell both of our families that all is well and that they needn’t worry.”

His forehead furrows with confusion, and then displeasure, the frown deepening on his face. “You can tell them yourself. I’m rescuing you.”

Tugging on her arms, Osha tries to break free. But Yord is too big, too strong, and clearly disinclined to let go.

“I do not wish to be rescued,” Osha insists, trying to remain patient. Perhaps Yord simply does not understand. Perhaps he is dimwitted. “This is my home. Now please, let me go.”

The displeasure on his face gives way to irritation and still, he does not release her. “Don’t be stupid, you cannot wish to remain here with that beast.”

Fierce protectiveness floods Osha, the mild annoyance that has been building within her at Yord’s repeated disregard for her words suddenly bursting into full anger at the insult to both herself and Qimir.

“I’m not stupid,” she says, pulling once more against Yord’s hold. “And he’s not a beast.”

“Oh, I know precisely what he is.”

The words stop her movements. The way he says them makes it seem as if he truly does know what Qimir is—perhaps more than Osha knows herself. Because though she knows his heart, his soul, the truth is she knows very little about what he is, and nothing about his past.

Though it does not matter, because they are bonded together, destined to be paired, part of her aches to learn the truth. To discover if he is a dragon at his core, or a man. To know if there is any chance that he could want her the way she wants him.

“What—” she swallows. “What do you mean?”

“He is a cursed being, Verosha,” Yord explains, his voice heavy with regret.

Osha’s heart races in her chest, so loud that the rest of the world—the beach, the soldiers, the forest beyond—all fade away.

“After he took you, I searched high and low for any mention of a dragon with red-tipped black scales, hoping to discover where he might make his home,” Yord continues. “I poured through ancient texts and sent messengers across the lands, seeking anyone with knowledge of the dragon. It took weeks and weeks, but I finally found it.”

“What?” she prompts, because she has to know. “Yord, what did you find?”

And so, he tells her.

“Roughly two hundred and fifty years ago, a sorceress and her apprentice uncovered a spell of transformation,” he explains. “But the spell required the use of dark magic, and the sorceress forbad her apprentice from using it.”

Osha’s breath goes heavy as she listens.

“He did so anyway, turning himself into a vicious monster, causing untold destruction. When he turned back, the sorceress cursed him to take his powers away, not knowing the spell was still active and that he would be trapped forever in an in-between state.”

It is everything Osha had hoped.

She doesn’t care that Qimir is over two hundred years old. She wouldn’t care if he was a thousand years old, two thousand years old.

If he was born a man, then perhaps there is a chance for something more between them.

He’d been trying to tell her, she realizes, with all of those fairytales and stories. Not all of them featured spells and witches, but many of them did.

If he was cursed, then there must be some way to break it, though something inside her protests the idea of a fully human Qimir. He’d said himself that his dragon form is as much a part of him as his human one.

“He will spend eternity shifting between forms, Verosha,” Yord presses, as if that should bother here. “And one of those forms is a brutal monster. You saw the destruction he wrought on the day we were to be wed.”

“He only did that because he was trying to get to me,” Osha insists. “We’re bonded. As long as I remain with him, he’ll have no reason to hurt anyone else.”

And really, he hadn’t hurt anyone that day in Brendok, though she doesn’t doubt that he would have, if he’d needed to.

“You think that, but you’re wrong. Destruction is in his nature.”

“You don’t know him, Yord,” Osha snaps. “You don’t know anything.”

He lifts his chin and lets out a heavy breath. “Captain Kelnacca,” he calls back to one of the soldiers behind him. “Take her to my ship.”

And then he uses his grip on Osha to push her toward a huge, burly, brown-haired man, who quickly grabs hold of her.

“Unhand me!” Osha struggles against the man’s grip, but he’s even stronger than Yord. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”

“Stop fighting,” Yord demands. “This is for your own good.”

And then the giant called Kelnacca drags Osha toward one of the boats.

The anger she’d felt at Yord melts back into terror. She cannot return to Brendok, return to her old life—or worse, the life her mothers had planned for her. It had been hard enough to accept when Yord had been a kind-faced stranger. Now she knows that he will never listen to her, never believe her, and she cannot tolerate such an existence.

And he’s not Qimir.

Qimir, who rescued her from a life she didn’t want. Qimir, who listens to her like every word she says matters. Qimir, who delights in teaching her, exploring with her, who strives constantly to find things and ways to make her happy.

Qimir, who she loves.

She’s never allowed herself to think the words before, but they’re true. She doesn’t simply want him, she loves him. Cursed being or not, she loves him with her entire soul. And she refuses to be parted from him.

But then Kelnacca sweeps her off her feet and carries her into one of the rowboats, as soldiers gather around, pushing the boat into the water. He maintains his grip as the soldiers then climb aboard and take up the oars.

The panic within her mounts. She had wanted so badly to protect these people, but she refuses to let them take her. And though she regrets the inevitable violence, she knows that if they get her back to the mainland, Qimir will come for her. That would put innocent people at risk, whereas these soldiers came prepared to battle a dragon.

So, closing her eyes, Osha finds the thread that binds her to Qimir and pulls.

Instantly, she senses his awareness, his realization that something is wrong. It takes only a few heartbeats before he appears in the sky overhead, a fury of red-tipped black scales, razorblade claws and dagger-sharp teeth flashing in the afternoon light.

At his arrival, cries of fear spill from the soldiers around her. The superiors call for the men to row faster, harder, to get to the ships. The rowboats fill the water, and Qimir dives down toward one, reaching with those vicious claws to lift a soldier out of the boat, crush him, and then drop his lifeless body into the ocean.

It is horrible to watch, brutal and violent. But Yord sealed his soldiers’ fates the moment he refused to let Osha go.

And then something explodes from one of the ships, aimed for Qimir.

He evades the shot, but terror surges inside Osha. There are cannons on those ships. She should have realized that, should have expected it.

“QIMIR,” she screams, and he turns toward the sound, diving for her.

At his sudden approach, Kelnacca’s grip loosens on Osha, and she manages to pull free. Climbing up onto the seat, she reaches toward Qimir. He scoops her up, careful to hold her with the meat of his paw and not graze her with his claws. Still, terror pulses inside her as he lifts her up over the water, flying toward the shore.

Another explosion sounds, and Osha screams as Qimir dodges abruptly to one side. He manages to get them on the beach and sets Osha down before landing behind her. Standing over her, he roars at the rowboats and ships beyond, staking his claim, the air vibrating with the force of his rage. But even at this distance, Osha sees the men still aboard the ship pulling up their anchors so they can reorient and fire the cannons toward them.

Qimir doesn’t give them the chance.

With Osha safely on shore, he climbs back into the air, opens his mouth, and unleashes a jet of fire across the water.

Screams erupt from the soldiers as the rowboats go up in flames. Osha watches in resigned horror as the surviving soldiers jump overboard into the ocean, swimming toward their ships. But Qimir sets his sights on those next, destruction made manifest, diving low to set fire to their masts and sails.

The tall ships take longer for fire to consume them. Qimir dives again and again, unleashing more and more flame as the cannons continue to erupt, the soldiers trying to take him down with them.

So focused on the battle, Osha doesn’t notice the man approaching until he has her in his grasp.

She screams as arms close around her, thrashing to get free. One of the soldiers must have swum to shore, had snuck around behind her.

“Call him off,” the man demands, his breathing rapid.

It’s Yord.

“He’s not my creature to command,” Osha spits, struggling in his grip. “You never should have tried to take me.”

Reaching behind her, she fumbles for one of the jeweled knives at Yord’s belt. She manages to get one out of the sheath and aims it for Yord’s thigh, but he quickly grabs her wrist, twisting it painfully. Osha cries out in pain, the knife slipping from her grasp, and with it her hopes of escape.

“You were promised to me,” Yord rages. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

And then he reaches for the sword at his waist.

“QIMIR,” Osha screams again, using Yord’s loosened grip to duck and slip out of his arms.

Turning in the air, Qimir surges toward them, leaving the ships behind. Osha runs as Yord turns to face Qimir, his sword held aloft. But compared to Qimir’s massive body, the sword is like a needle, no real threat. It gives Qimir no pause as he descends on Yord with a furious snarl, grabbing the man and lifting him into the air.

A sickening crack rends the air as Qimir breaks Yord in his grasp and then lets him fall to one of the burning rowboats below.

Quiet fills the minutes that follow. There are no more shouts, no more splashes. With the ships steadily burning, the rowboats destroyed, and dozens of bodies floating on the water, Osha knows that it’s over.

All the adrenaline and terror go out of her, leaving her feeling dizzy. She staggers where she stands on the beach, Qimir instantly noticing and flying toward her.

But as he starts to descend, one last explosion bursts from the burning ships beyond.

So focused on Osha, the shot so unexpected, Qimir doesn’t manage to completely evade it this time. The cannonball impacts his side, bright red blood immediately sprouting from the injury as he unleashes an agonized roar.

Osha screams in horror as he falls from the sky, the ship that fired the shot suddenly rending in two and sinking into the ocean.

Qimir lands in the shallows, thrashing in pain, blood spilling into the water. Osha runs into the waves toward him, as he struggles to gain his feet. Reaching his side, she puts her hands on his scales, finding them burning hot beneath her palms, far hotter than usual.

“Qimir,” Osha sobs, drowning in terror, unsure how bad the injury is.

Somehow, he manages to stand, his body heaving with the effort and with pain. And yet, he nudges her with his head, then presents the back of his neck to her, the way he does when inviting her to climb on. Osha doesn’t know if he has the strength to fly, but she does know that he would never risk her safety, so she grabs onto his spines and hoists herself up.

Lifting into the air with painful, jerky movements, he streaks over the island, trailing blood. They land moments later at the entrance to their cavern, Qimir shuffling inside before lowering his head to the ground.

As soon as Osha climbs off, his massive body collapses to the stone. And then he begins to convulse, scales receding into golden skin, his figure shrinking as he returns to his human form.

Tears stream down Osha’s face, panic flooding her when he lays sprawled on the cavern floor, his side bleeding profusely. He looks so vulnerable like this, and she falls to her knees beside him, hands shaking as she checks his too-rapid pulse, his too-shallow breathing.

“Please,” she begs, wracked with pain and terror, carding her fingers through his hair. “Please, Qimir, please don’t leave me. I need you. I love you.”

“Osha,” he groans quietly.

And then he loses consciousness.

Osha can’t think. She can’t breathe. Her whole body shakes with the force of the anguish pounding in her blood. She needs to tend to his injury, stop the bleeding, but they hardly have access to medical supplies. The best she can do is wash it with clean water and bandage it with scraps of fabric, she decides, surging to her feet and sprinting to get the items she needs.

Once she has them, she cleans the wound as gently as she can. And then she takes the dark blue sarong and tears it into strips, struggling to move his heavy body so that she can wrap the fabric around his waist, while also trying not to jar his injury. Somehow, she manages. Qimir remains unconscious and unresponsive the whole time.

After, she sits back on her heels and looks at him. Heat pours off his skin, hotter than she’s ever felt, and his breath remains shallow. But there’s nothing more that she can do. Whether or not he will survive this injury, only time will tell.

Without anything to keep her going, exhaustion slams into Osha. But he’s too big for her to move without help, and she can’t bring herself to leave his side.

Careful not to put any pressure on his wound, she curls up against him on the floor and cries herself to sleep.

Osha wakes in bed with no memory of how she got there, warm and comfortable, a strong arm over her waist and firm chest against her back.

She sits abruptly upright and turns to find Qimir there beside her.

Not only is he in bed with her, but he’s awake and calm, without any pain limning his beautiful features.

Blinking down at him, Osha can’t fathom how it’s possible, not with how badly he’d been injured. “Qimir,” she breathes. “What—how—?”

Pushing aside the blankets, he sits up, revealing his bare chest, the makeshift bandages she’d wrapped around him gone. Red tinges the skin of his side where he’d been injured, the new skin shiny, but he is unquestionably whole.

“Dragons heal quickly,” he explains. “And though it was quite painful, the cannon did not damage anything vital.”

It hits her all at once, the relief so overwhelming that she bursts once more into tears. Qimir takes her in his arms, pulling her into his lap, Osha clinging to him.

“You’re alright,” she sobs against his neck. “You’re alright. I was so scared.”

“Shh, precious,” he soothes. “It’s alright. I’m alright.”

Osha buries her face against his shoulder and cries, her body heaving as she gasps for breath. Tightening his arms around her, Qimir holds her, stroking her back gently.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I should have thought to tell you that before. I didn’t mean to let you worry.”

For a long while, Osha cries, unleashing all the pain and fear of the last day. Slowly, the tears ease, and she takes several deep, painful breaths as she tries to regain control of herself.

“And I’m sorry you had to watch all of that,” Qimir continues. “But I—I could not let them take you.”

“No, it’s—it’s alright.” Osha swallows hard. “I knew what I was inviting when I called you. Thank you for coming for me.”

Pulling away just enough so that he can look at her, he cups her cheek in his hand, peering into her eyes. “I told you before. I will always come for you.”

Staring back at him, longing fills Osha so full she feels like she might burst. She loves him, she loves him so much she can’t breathe without him, and yesterday she’d thought that she might lose him.

The ache inside her rages so painfully she feels like she might die of it.

Qimir looks at her, his gaze soft as he searches her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Did you mean what you said yesterday?”

At first, Osha’s not certain what he’s referring to. And then she remembers: she’d been so distraught by his injury that she’d told him that she loves him. Somehow, even in his incapacitation, he’d heard her and remembered.

She tears her gaze away, staring at the blankets as her eyes sting, a different and familiar kind of fear creeping in. “I—” But she almost lost him, or at least thought that she had. And she simply cannot keep her feelings inside anymore. “Yes.”

“Osha,” he murmurs, still gently caressing her cheek. “Osha, my treasure.”

The words drag her attention back to his face.

When she meets his gaze, his dark eyes shine with some intense emotion. “There is something you must understand,” he says carefully. “Dragons only take one mate in our lifetimes, and we do not share.”

Her breath goes heavy in her chest. Is he—is he saying—?

“I love you,” he continues, overwhelming, incandescent happiness erupting within her. “I would bind myself to you in an instant. But I need you to be certain that is what you want, because if you give yourself to me, you’re mine forever.”

Chest rising and falling hard, she holds his gaze. “I’m already yours forever.”

His eyes go impossibly dark. A low rumble spills from his chest as his hand slides into her hair. And then his mouth is on hers.

Osha gasps into the kiss, her first, sensation exploding within her. His lips are as soft and warm as she’d always imagined, but the kiss is not soft. Qimir kisses her like he wants to consume her, possess her, own her.

And Osha wants nothing more than to belong to him.

He loves her.

For so many weeks, she yearned to give herself to him. Now, elation surges through her veins to finally be able to kiss him, touch him the way she dreamed. She clings to his warm, firm body, breathing in his intoxicating scent, feeling his lips move against hers, the ache within her raging like a tempest.

He loves her. He wants her forever. Nothing has ever felt so right, and yet it is still not enough. She needs more; so much more.

Somehow, he knows, because he flips her around with one arm at her waist, laying her back on the bed and hovering over her. For a moment they stare at each other, breathing hard, Osha tracing his exquisite, angular features, his kiss swollen lips, his dark eyes that trail over her with a fierce possessiveness.

“Say it again,” he demands, his body so big and warm above her. “Say that you’re mine.”

The way he looks at her makes her feel like she’s on fire. “I’m yours,” she says. “Forever.”

“I love you, Osha,” he breathes, and leans down to kiss her again. “My mate.”

She nearly sobs with joy. But he takes her bottom lip between both of his, sucking gently, and it steals her breath. And then he presses her mouth open, sliding his tongue inside. A sharp stab of yearning races straight between her legs when his tongue touches hers, and she whimpers, her hands sliding into his silky hair.

Making a pleased sound, Qimir tastes every part of her mouth. With each swipe of his tongue, the need within her builds. He tastes like pure heat, smoky and spicy, and Osha had no idea that kissing could feel like this.

And then his mouth trails down to her jaw, kissing and then sucking on her neck. Osha gasps in surprise at the sensation, her body convulsing with the force of the pleasure that spools through her.

The ache she felt simply laying in his arms was nothing compared to the all-consuming need that floods her now. Slickness pools at the apex of her thighs, her pulse pounding between her legs. She feels empty, incomplete, desperate, her body screaming that Qimir has what she needs, she just needs him to give it to her.

“Do you have any idea what you smell like,” he murmurs into her ear, his breath hot against her skin, “when your body prepares for me? How hard it was not to simply take you, make you mine, all those nights when I held you in my arms with you smelling like my mate? How badly I want to claim you right now?”

“Qimir,” she moans, his words swirling in her veins. “Please, I need you.”

With a growl, his mouth returns to hers, hot, urgent, demanding. At the same time, his hands reach for her dress, pushing her skirt up her legs, fingers dragging across her skin. Her heart beats frantically, her body throbbing with anticipation, all the desire she’s held inside her for weeks burning like a raging inferno.

And then he pulls the dress over her head, tossing it aside, so she’s in only her breastband and smallclothes beneath him.

He’s seen her dressed thus dozens of times for their swimming lessons. Still, he looks at her as if it’s the first. As if he cannot get enough, drinking her in. And then his hand reaches for her waist, sliding up her ribcage, his thumb dragging over her abdomen. The touch saturates her body with sparkling pleasure, and she gasps, arching into him.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “My sweet little mate.”

And then he lowers his mouth to her neck again, kissing below her chin and down her throat. Osha clings to his muscled back, feeling his warm skin beneath her fingers, panting for breath. His hands slide behind her back, finding the clasps of her breastband and releasing it, before pulling the fabric away.

Osha shakes with combined desire, anticipation, and nerves. But Qimir bites his lip as he takes in the sight of her breasts, bared to him. Her nipples go hard under his scrutiny, goosebumps breaking out across her skin even though his body provides ample heat.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand following the path of his gaze, cupping one of her breasts. “And all mine.”

Osha’s toes curl at the sensation of his hand there, her body arching and elongating to try and contain the pleasure. Her breath comes in shallow gasps as he rolls her hard nipple with his fingers.

“Qimir,” she whines, needing more, needing less, the pounding ache between her legs nearly unbearable.

But he just trails his lips down her chest, over the swell of her breast to take her other nipple into his mouth. Osha sobs, mindless with desire, so desperate she feels like she’s going to combust.

He lavishes her nipples with attention, rolling with his fingers, sucking gently with his mouth. The pleasure and heat rage between her legs, her desperation growing.

And then he continues down, over her ribcage and her stomach, to the edge of her smallclothes. Hooking his fingers in the waistband, he draws them down her legs so she’s completely bare beneath him.

Shivers wrack her body that have nothing to do with the cold, as he grabs her ankles and draws her legs open, exposing her to his gaze. Sitting at the end of the bed, his eyes burn dark as he takes in the very center of her, absolutely dripping with that slick substance.

And then he kisses her ankle, awareness shooting up her leg to her core. He kisses her calf, the inside of her knee, and then up her thigh. With every inch higher he moves, the tension winds tighter. Finally, he settles his shoulders between her legs, pressing a kiss to her hip as Osha trembles.

“I have dreamed of tasting you since the day I first brought you home,” he breathes as his hands run up her thighs, liquid arousal surging inside her.

And then he leans in and licks her drenched core.

A gasp tears out of her at the touch of his tongue between her legs. She’s never felt anything like it, the soft, warm, wet against her burning, aching need. Her hands fist in the blankets, as Qimir laps at her entrance, dragging his tongue through her slick folds. He licks her like a cat laps at a bowl of cream, her whole body awash in pleasure.

“Mm, so sweet,” he murmurs, before diving back in.

Suddenly, he finds the place above her entrance that sends white-hot ecstasy surging through her. Osha cries out, barely able to process the sensation. All the other pleasant feelings she’s ever felt pale in comparison. Even her own fingers cannot compare, and she arches off the bed as he focuses on that little nub, rubbing circles with his tongue.

A wall of pleasure builds inside her, heavy and hard, stones mortared one on top of the other. It climbs higher and higher as Qimir continues to lick her, until she feels like she’s perched atop a great tower and peering over the edge into a fathomless abyss.

“Qimir,” she whines, overwhelmed, a little afraid.

He pulls away. “It’s alright, precious,” he says, and rolls the nub in another circle with his tongue. “Just let go. I’ll catch you.”

And then he sucks the nub into his mouth hard.

Osha falls apart in an explosion of pleasure, bliss searing through her core, streaking along the length of her body. She shakes and cries with the force of it, straining against his mouth. But though he slows, he does not stop, the pleasure raging on and on until she can barely contain it.

And then she feels faint pressure at her entrance. His tongue continues to lick her, aftershocks sparking in her blood as one finger slides slowly inside.

The sensation is unfamiliar but incredible, his finger rubbing her from within. Her body pulses, screaming that this is closer to what she needs, though still not enough.

“More,” she moans, as he rubs across a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, please, more.”

Still licking her on the outside, Qimir presses a second finger into her.

A gasp tears from Osha’s mouth at the sensation, so much more intense. His fingers are long and thick, and she’s never taken anything inside her before. It doesn’t hurt, simply feels overwhelming and a little strange. But she knows his manhood is far larger, and she wants to take that next. Wants to be joined with him completely.

He moves his fingers slowly in and out, his lips and tongue keeping the pleasure high even as he starts to spread his fingers, pressing against her walls. And then he slides a third finger inside, the pleasant pressure giving way to a noticeable stretch.

“Oh,” she gasps, clutching at the bedclothes.

Holding his fingers still, he redoubles the efforts of his mouth, sucking hard on the little nub again. The pleasure climbs inside her, and this time she does not fight the ascent. When she reaches the top of the tower, she gladly lets him push her over the edge into the drowning sea of ecstasy.

It washes over her, her body clenching around his fingers, and it feels so, so good. Mindless cries spill from her lips, as she pulses in long, saturating waves of bliss.

This time, Qimir lets her come down, holding his fingers inside her but trailing his mouth up her stomach and her ribs and her breasts. Osha reaches for him when he’s close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he once more takes her mouth with his own. He tastes different, musky but not unpleasant, his tongue pressing past her lips to stroke against hers.

And then he withdraws his fingers.

Osha feels achingly empty without them, her body once more screaming with desire. She arches against him. “Please,” she begs. “Please, I need you.”

“Shh, my love,” he breathes, nuzzling her face. “You’re absolutely certain? If we do this, there’s no going back. We will be bound for life.”

“I’m certain,” she pants out. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Osha.” Kissing her gently, he pushes off his breeches. And then he settles his hips in the cradle of her thighs, his erection hot and hard against her wet center. Reaching between them, he lines himself up with her entrance. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

She does so, and then he slowly pushes inside, just the barest inch. Still, it steals her breath. Even three of his fingers couldn’t prepare her for the immense stretch.

“Breathe, precious,” he murmurs. “I need you to keep breathing or I’ll have to stop.”

The idea of stopping is abhorrent, so Osha forces herself to take a deep, shaky breath. Qimir inches forward, Osha gasping, her head falling back as he fills her overwhelmingly full.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, pressing forward another tiny bit. “Almost halfway.”

Gods, they’re not even halfway, and already Osha feels full to bursting. She clings to his shoulders, her blood throbbing in her veins, her heart pounding between her legs as he gently spears her open. It feels so good and so intense at the same time, too much and not enough all at once, leaving her shaking.

Little by little he continues. Osha clutches at the muscles of his back, her breath coming hard. Her mind and body swim in so much sensation, the sheer onslaught of feelings she’s never felt before, and underneath it all a current of rightness.

“That’s it,” he soothes as he presses forward. “Just keep breathing for me, just like that. You feel so good.”

And then, finally, his hips press to hers, his length sheathed entirely inside her. Osha lays there, panting, breathing in the warm, beloved scent of him. She feels so full, like he’s inside every part of her, her core aching and protesting and yet somehow desperate for more still.

“Osha,” he breathes, kissing her face as she trembles. “Osha, my precious. My treasure. My love.”

Slowly, she adjusts. She clings to Qimir as the overwhelming stretching sensation eases, little by little, leaving behind only the deep, pulsing ache. Reaching for his head, she drags his mouth back to hers, parting her lips in invitation and moaning at the taste of his tongue.

“I’m ready,” she gasps when they draw apart. “I want more. I want everything.”

“I’ll give you anything you ever want,” Qimir breathes. And then he slowly withdraws, and eases back in.

It shoots awareness straight up her spine, Osha’s whole body lighting up. He feels immense inside her, but he moves slowly, gently, watching her face for any hint of pain. But all Osha feels is incredible pleasure, a sense of wholeness, of rightness, of completion.

“Are you alright my love?” he asks once he’s fully seated again.

“Yes,” she breathes. “More, please.”

Taking her mouth once more with his own, he pulls out again, and glides back in, a little faster this time. Pleasure dances across her skin, her core pulsing as he drags along her walls. He does it again, and then again, Osha gasping against his mouth. And then he finds something inside her, nudging against it, and Osha moans at the perfect pleasure that bursts deep inside her.

“Does that feel good, precious?” Qimir breathes, stroking into her and hitting that spot again.

“Yes,” she whines, overwhelmed, overcome. “Feels so good.”

He rocks into her, over and over, her body welcoming him. Slowly, he increases his pace, pleasure pulsing each time he slides inside. Soon the tension begins to build again, but different than before, deeper and even more all-consuming. Osha clings to Qimir’s shoulders as he presses into her, little cries slipping from her mouth with each thrust, pleasure churning in her stomach.

Soon, a creeping tension crawls across her body. Little by little, she goes tight, wound up like a spring. Gasping for breath, she feels her body climb higher and higher.

“That’s it,” Qimir breathes, his lips hover over hers. “My perfect girl, my treasure. You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go.”

The words push her over, her release unfurling. Osha cries out as the abyss once more consumes her, drenching her body in pleasure. She clenches down hard on Qimir, and he gasps in response, his movements going erratic.

“Osha,” he groans, his body stiffening as he pulses and throbs inside her.

Suddenly, something shifts within her chest. All at once, the life debt, the bond between them, blows wide open—an ocean of connection instead of a thread.

Images flood her, memories not her own—a severe-looking bald woman with diamond tattoos on her pale skull. A room in a tower somewhere, full of crystals and different colored glass bottles and shelves upon shelves of books. A battlefield strewn with bodies.

She gasps as the vision dissipates, Qimir still on top of and inside her, a faraway look in his eyes. Somehow, she knows that he is seeing memories of her life. But just as quickly, it clears, and he blinks down at her with awe.

“My mate,” he breathes, and kisses her.

Overwhelming pleasure and happiness flood her. She grasps his face, holding him close, savoring the press of his soft lips to hers.

When he pulls back again, he peers down at her, his eyes brimming with affection.

“Does that always happen when a dragon takes a mate?” she asks, still holding his face.

“I don’t know,” he says with a rueful smile, turning his head and kissing her palm. “That was my first time being mated.”

Somehow, she knows he’s referring to whatever just happened with the bond, and not the physical act.

“The first time and the last,” Osha half-teases, though she’s also entirely serious. She may belong to him, but he belongs to her too.

“That’s right precious,” he agrees. “You’re all mine and I’m all yours, forever.”

And then he leans back down and kisses her.

Osha could kiss Qimir forever. But as the high of pleasure slowly recedes, her mind suddenly wraps around what exactly forever means. Because Qimir is over two hundred and fifty years old, at least according to Yord.

Born a human or not, he is part dragon now. But Osha isn’t. If his apparent age is any indication of his lifespan, he will live far, far longer than she will. And if he truly won’t ever take another mate, then he has conscribed himself to many, many years of loneliness after her death.

Perhaps these are things she should have considered before deciding to bind herself to him eternally, but they would not have changed her mind. She only hopes that it does not become something he regrets.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading her emotions so clearly.

“I was just thinking that it’s easy for me to bind my life to you, I won’t ever have to live without you,” she murmurs. “You can’t say the same. You will almost certainly outlive me.”

Rolling onto his back, Qimir pulls Osha on top of him, cradling her close. “I knew that was a possibility, yes,” he confirms. “But I waited over two hundred years for you, Osha. I would live another millennia alone, as long as I could have you for just a moment.”

Humming with pleasure, Osha tucks her face against his neck. But then another realization hits her, and she sits abruptly upright, Qimir looking up at her in confusion.

“Two hundred years,” she repeats.

A reserved look crosses his face. “I know it’s a lot,” he starts, assuming that she’s surprised by the number itself, but that’s not it at all.

“No, Qimir, you just told me your age, or thereabouts,” she says, excited. “You couldn’t do that before.”

Realization dawns, and he sits up as well. “I’m two-hundred and seventy-eight years old,” he says, the words flowing easily, excitement building between them.

“Is it because we’re mated?” Osha asks. “Is that why you can say it?”

“I don’t know,” Qimir says. “Ask me something else.”

“Were you born a human or a dragon?” she asks, though Yord told her the answer, just to see if he’s able to answer it.

“Human,” he says, and laughs.

Grinning, Osha throws her arms around his neck. Qimir falls back to the bed, pulling Osha with him, taking her face in his hands and dragging her mouth down to his.

“I love you,” he breathes. “Ask me whatever you wish to know.”

Resting atop his strong, firm chest, their legs tangled together, Osha sorts through the jumble of questions in her mind. “Yord said it was a spell that made you part dragon. That it required dark magic, and your master didn’t want you to use it.”

“That’s true,” he admits. “Though it is perhaps slightly more complicated than that.”

“Why did you use the spell in the first place?”

“Our kingdom was at war,” he says. “Our people were dying. I though perhaps I could turn the tide. But Vernestra was right to forbid it. At first, I could not control the dragon’s urges, and I hurt many innocent people.”

“So she took away your powers to try and stop you from using the spell again?” Osha asks.

“Yes, although it wouldn’t have mattered. The spell was not a temporary transformation of my body. It fundamentally changed what I am. Even if Vernestra hadn’t done what she did, the dragon would have remained a part of me forever.”

That means there isn’t a way to undo it, even if he somehow had his powers restored. But it doesn’t matter. Osha had only briefly considered it, had felt how wrong it was even when the thought first occurred to her. The dragon is a part of who he is, part of why she loves him.

So she changes to another subject. “Why did she make you unable to speak of it?”

“After I used the spell, she destroyed the spellbook it came from, and took away my ability to speak about it or anything related to it so I could not help anyone else perform it.”

“Could you tell me now?”

“I believe so, yes,” Qimir says carefully, as if he understands what she’s thinking, and perhaps he does. But if she could undergo the same spell, change herself to be part dragon as well, wouldn’t he want that too? He wouldn’t have to live without her for untold centuries.

Still, his hesitation and reluctance are clear, though she doesn’t know why. But she won’t press him. They don’t have anyone who could perform the spell now anyway.

So, she lays her head on his chest. “Did you have a family?”

He strokes a hand along her bare back. “I must have, though I don’t remember them. I was taken by Vernestra to be her apprentice at a young age.”

“Well,” she says, a little shy. “I’m your family now.”

“Not just my family,” he says with a smile. “You’re my everything.”

Humming with pleasure, she leans up and kisses him.

For a long while, they lay in bed and talk. Qimir answers all of Osha’s questions. And when she’s finally satisfied—at least for now—he rolls her once more onto her back, taking her mouth, kissing her for a long, long while.

They make love over and over throughout the following days. In their cavern, on the beach, at the waterfall, in a grassy meadow. Now that she can touch him, she cannot get enough.

The bond between them grows stronger with each passing moment. Osha feels it in her chest, a tangible weight wedged inside her ribcage, just beside her heart. Whenever they are separated, which is rare and brief, she still senses his presence.

Never before has she felt so utterly whole.

A perfect, blissful week passes, and then two.

The whole time, Qimir remains in his human form.

“This is the longest I’ve ever stayed in one shape since I cast the spell,” he says one evening as they lay curled in bed, Osha’s head pillowed on his chest. “I know the dragon is still there, I feel it, but I don’t know why I haven’t changed.”

Osha had been wondering the same thing. She senses the dragon too; through the bond she assumes.

“Perhaps the dragon is simply allowing you some quality time with your mate,” she teases, crawling more fully on top of him and pressing her mouth to his in invitation for more of that quality time, an invitation he gladly accepts.

Osha’s awareness of the dragon grows as the days pass.

As it increases, it starts to change, separating from her bond to Qimir, which is…odd.

Three weeks after their mating, she’s lazing in bed while Qimir catches their breakfast. She’d finished her monthly bleeding overnight, and they’d both been eager to take advantage of that fact this morning. Now she lies, warm and sated in the blankets, feeling the echo of her mate’s happiness through the bond, his protectiveness, his satisfaction in being able to provide for her.

He still has not transformed, and neither of them have any idea why.

As happy as she is to have his kisses and his touches and his conversation, a part of her misses flying.

That awareness of the dragon pulses inside her, almost like it’s calling to her. The promise of flight feels like it’s just within reach, though she’s not sure how that could be possible. Still, she’s curious. Without really thinking about what she’s doing, she prods at the awareness with her mind.

An unexpected tension takes hold of her body. Her senses go suddenly heightened, her body blazing hot, her skin itching and tight. Before her mind fully processes what’s happening, copper scales erupt from her skin, her body stretching and growing. The now tiny bed crumbles beneath her weight, the cavern no longer vast but only just big enough to contain her.

And then Qimir appears at the mouth of the cavern, holding what was supposed to be their breakfast, and he’s so small. Why is he so small?

He drops the fish at the sight of her. “Osha?”

Running up to her, he puts his little hands against her chest.

Osha shakes her head, trying to orient herself to her new shape and size. She feels—she feels—powerful. Strong. Enormous.

She lowers her massive head to the ground so that she can better see her mate—her mate, who is in the wrong shape.

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Qimir says, his brow furrowed.

Or perhaps she is the one in the wrong shape.

Nudging at the feeling inside her chest that says human, Osha’s body suddenly draws back in on itself, shrinking, scales retreating.

“Ooof,” she says, collapsing on the floor in front of Qimir.

He instantly gathers her in his arms. “Osha,” he breathes, and he sounds distressed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she says, clinging to his warm, firm body. “I was thinking about flying. And there was this feeling inside me that’s been growing since we mated. I thought it was just the bond, but then I sort of, I don’t know, touched it, I guess? With my mind. And then all of a sudden, I changed.”

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you saying—are you saying you initiated the change?”

Osha nods. “Yes, I think so.”

For a long moment, Qimir seems to turn those words over in his mind. And then, abruptly, he releases her so that he can remove his breeches and grabs Osha’s hand.

“Come with me,” he says, then drags her out of the cavern and down to the beach.

Once they’re out in the wide open, he releases her, and backs away. Osha steps forward to follow, but he holds out his hand, putting some distance between them. And then he closes his eyes, his arms outstretched. At first, nothing happens. But then his body goes stiff, the black and red scales appearing, his body growing.

Elation surges inside of Osha, and she turns her attention to the dragon inside her, nudging it and triggering her own transformation.

It’s less disorienting the second time, when she’s expecting it. And once the change completes, she looks over at her mate. Even in this form, he’s bigger than she is, though she supposes she should have expected that.

But just as quickly, he shrinks, returning to his human form, and Osha does the same.

He picks her up and spins her around, Osha laughing.

“Gods, how is this possible?” he asks, but of course Osha doesn’t know. “It must have happened when we mated. Somehow you took on the dragon as well. And with us sharing it, the transformation can be controlled.”

“You’re happy?” she asks. “You didn’t seem so when I asked about the spell.”

“Precious, that spell almost killed me,” he explains, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “It’s how I got the scar on my back. And it took me years and years to learn to control the dragon. I did not wish for you to suffer the same. Now you do not have to.” He grins. “Yes, I’m happy.”

Osha is happy too. More than happy, she’s exuberant, full of joy. Whatever the reason, it’s clear that their love has halved the burden of the spell Qimir cast so many years ago, and it is a burden she is glad to share with him.

“I want to fly,” she says, excited. “Can we?”

“Of course.” Pulling her to him, he kisses her fiercely, then lets go and steps back to initiate his transformation.

Osha does the same, her body unfurling.

Once in their dragon forms, Qimir nuzzles her head with his. And then he leaps into the sky. Working on pure instinct, Osha follows suit, climbing up the atmosphere.

They lift into the clouds, soaring over their island. Exhilaration and delight fill every inch of her long, serpentine body. As much as she adored riding on Qimir’s back, flying on her own is the realization of a dream she’s held inside for as long as she can recall. Having him beside her is the part of the dream she hadn’t known to wish for. With him, she is finally complete. And together they are utterly, entirely free.

The ability to control the transformation opens a literal world of possibilities for Osha and Qimir.

The first thing they do is find a priestess in a small village temple on the mainland. Osha insists that being mated supersedes any human formalities, but Qimir wishes for them to be bound in every possible way, and it fills Osha with such love and happiness that she can hardly refuse.

They’re married, officially, their names recorded in the temple ledger.

After, they return to Brendok so that Osha can reunite with her family and prove to them that she’s alright, and to prevent any future tragedies like what happened with Prince Yord. No one has seen or heard from the prince, of course, and he is assumed lost at sea. Osha does not correct this assumption.

She tells them that Qimir rescued her from the dragon, that they fell in love and were wed. Though her mothers are wary of the unknown man, they have no choice but to accept it.

But late at night, sitting in bed, holding her sister’s hands in her own, she tells Mae the truth.

“Does this mean you will live for hundreds of years?” Mae asks.

“I don’t know,” Osha says. “So much of this is uncertain. It’s possible that by sharing the effects of the spell, we have cut Qimir’s lifespan in half. Or we may have doubled it. Or nothing at all. Only time will tell.”

Mae nods, and hugs her sister. “I hope you will come back to visit.”

“As often as I can,” Osha promises, holding her sister tight.

And she does, returning soon after for Mae’s marriage to the captain of the palace guard, Sol. How Mae managed to convince their mothers to support the match, Osha’s not certain, but it’s very clearly her sister’s choice, and she’s happy for her twin.

At Osha’s prodding, they return to Olega, the kingdom where Qimir apprenticed for Vernestra. The sorceress is long dead, and while it’s not as much closure as she would have wished for her mate, it is still better than not knowing.

One day, a few months after their mating, Osha wakes feeling sick to her stomach. At first, Qimir worries that she’s caught some kind of illness in their travels—though the rapid-healing that comes with being part dragon should prevent it.

But when she misses her monthly bleeding twice in a row, it becomes quite clear that she’s not ill. She’s with child.

The look of pure joy on Qimir’s face when she tells him temporarily assuages her concerns about how the spell will affect their babies.

The twins are born whole and healthy and human. The girls age at a normal rate; it seems as if the spell did not impact them at all, and Osha’s not certain how she feels about that. But she loves her daughters with such ferocity that she cherishes every moment with them.

Still, she and Qimir are more careful thereafter. The possibility of having to outlive their children over and over and over again is simply too much to bear.

But then, one day shortly after the girls’ fifth birthday, Amina abruptly transforms into a bronze dragon the size of a horse. Not one to be outdone by her sister, Laila soon follows suit.

Osha shouts in combined shock and delight. But then she has to figure out how to convince her mischievous children to turn back into humans, which is an entire ordeal, one that Qimir finds far more amusing than she does.

And yet, a month later, she’s pregnant again.

Little by little, their family expands. The children grow at a normal rate, but all inherit the ability to change shape, and Osha prays that whatever lifespan she and Qimir have, their children share it too.

And indeed, when they reach the age of majority, the children suddenly stop aging.

Even so, Osha and Qimir know they cannot keep their grown children trapped on the island with no one but their parents for company. Exploring the world together is not enough, they need lives and families of their own. It’s bittersweet to let them go, but she and Qimir have each other, and the love they share. And the children come back from time to time to visit, and it is enough.

It’s more than enough. It is a life unlike anything Osha ever dreamed of for herself. A life better than she could ever have imagined. She has her freedom, she has an entire world to explore, and she has her mate to explore it with.

And so they live happily ever after.