Deven and the Dragon - Eliot Grayson Page 0,12

of battering gusts of wind, the freshness of the scent of the river and forest below him drifting up. In this form his eyesight was much keener, and when he turned he could see the group before his castle as clearly as he had from the turret. Andrei stood with them now, with all the councilors ranged before him. The presumed sacrifice stood off to the side a little.

As Fiora circled and watched, the man looked up.

For a long, suspended moment, Fiora was certain their eyes had met. That impossibly warm energy of a sudden and intimate connection with another being zinged down his spine and made his tail tingle. What color were his eyes? Even with his dragon’s senses he couldn’t tell, but he imagined them to be a warm brown like that of his hair, filled with mischief and lust and a keen intelligence that would ferret out every one of Fiora’s secrets.

Fiora would protest, of course, but he would yield gracefully, in every possible way…his belly clenched, and he tossed his head to banish the vision.

But he did bank into a sharp descent, whipping his tail dramatically and letting out a well-formed puff of smoke.

He wasn’t showing off, of course. That would be absurd. If he happened to make a striking, even mesmerizing sight — well, that was just one of the side benefits of being a dragon. He could hardly help it.

As he approached the ground, one of the councilors looked up and gasped, eagerly pointing him out to the others. The councilors wavered, some looking as if they might break and run, while others held onto their stupid official hats to keep the flapping of his wings from blowing them off their heads. Andrei, for his part, turned to face the smooth section of lawn where he knew Fiora would choose to land, and awaited him in a posture of perfect calm and respect.

The sacrifice turned with him, but he never looked away from Fiora. Now that he was closer, Fiora could see the sacrifice’s expression, and it wasn’t what he’d expected. The man looked curious, interested, but hardly impressed and certainly not afraid.

How dare he be so composed! Fiora was bloody well terrifying, wasn’t he? Sour, self-defeating rage rose up in him, and he welcomed it. If he was forced to hide away in lonely misery from the human world, to stifle all his longings, then he’d be a dragon, and that meant fear, people cowering and running and begging for mercy when he chose to appear before them.

Fiora landed with a great thump on the grass to the side of the carriage drive, tossing his horned head in the air and allowing two delicate streamers of smoke to escape his muzzle. With an elegantly executed fold of his wings and a curl of his spiked tail, he settled on his haunches and regarded the group with what he hoped was a suitably baleful eye.

The councilors stumbled back a step almost as one, muttering in shocked voices, the whites of their eyes showing all around. Andrei bowed. The sacrifice lost his grip on his coat for a moment and had to jerk his arm to catch it, but otherwise — well, otherwise, he simply stood there.

His eyes were brown, damn him. With little flecks of gold. Fiora gazed into them, caught and held. It wasn’t wise to look into the eyes of a dragon, the legends said, for you’d fall under their spell.

Fiora thought miserably that the stupid legends seemed to have gotten it the wrong way around.

Thank God for Andrei, who cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment and drawing the sacrifice’s attention away from Fiora. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you to His Excellency, the master of this castle and lands and your neighbor — and patron. I believe we placed an order for ten bolts of silk and twelve of wool from your warehouse only last week, did we not, Councilor Barclay?”

In his human form Fiora might have had to stifle a laugh at Andrei’s pointedness. As it was, he simply puffed a little more smoke, drawing awed murmurs. That was more the reaction he expected and deserved.

He glanced sidelong at the sacrifice — who was glancing sidelong at him. And still not terrified.

Was Fiora really so pathetic, even as a fire-breathing scaled near-invulnerable beast with claws and enormous pointy teeth? God forbid this man see him as a thin little human with oddly-tinted skin. He would dismiss Fiora completely.

Councilor