They were lovely hands, callused from work but gentle when they closed around Zarrin’s foot and turned it over to inspect it.
Zarrin decided he loved them, but not nearly as much as the quiet, “I’m sorry,” that came from his beast before the man set to work and the pain began.
ZARRIN MUST HAVE fainted again. He blinked to wakefulness, in the cedar house once again, on the same colorful bedding, but this time in the dark of night. His journey up the hills and through the woods must have exhausted him if he’d slept this long.
He lifted his head and saw, beyond his bandaged feet, the man dressed as a beast, lying on his side on the other side of the fire, asleep. The helmet was gone, but with his body turned the other way, all Zarrin could see was the skin of his nape, the same color as the cedar walls, and short, black hair that gleamed in the firelight. The man had thrown his fur coat over his body to keep warm, but shivered in his sleep, even close to the fire. No wonder, since Zarrin must have been using all his blankets.
But that, Zarrin could fix now that he was stronger. He put his head back down and closed his eyes and let his magic warm the house better than any simple human fire ever could.
IN THE MORNING, Zarrin woke up alone, and padded gingerly around the space, inspecting elaborately woven blankets and baskets and wondering if the man had made them himself. Zarrin was not quite ready to remove the bandages and look at his feet, but the pain was much better. He might have healed already.
He had just made his way back to the fire to consider how one made tea, and if the man would appreciate some if Zarrin made it, when the man appeared in the doorway. He had not put the claw gloves back on.
“I was going to make tea, to thank you for the removal of the thorns.” Zarrin wiggled his toes inside his bandages.
“That’s not… you don’t need to do that.”
Zarrin was starting to suspect that not very many people had ever saidsorryorthank youto this man. He grew hot again, but he expected it this time. He was angry, possibly, with others, but he also felt tender toward this spiky, scared human.
“You could have let me suffer,” Zarrin told him gently. “I would have deserved it for showing up uninvited.”
“I…” The man held back whatever he might have said and crossed his arms. “Do you even know how to make tea?” he asked instead, his tone pointed but also lighter than Zarrin had expected.
Zarrin sighed. “No. But I thought you might like to be taken care of.”
A startled noise came from the depths of the Great Wolf skull, then a fierce growl. “I don’t need that.”
Zarrin had saidlike to. Notneed. The human had brought that word into the conversation.
Zarrin hummed.
“I admit, I am used to servants, and will not be much good at taking care of anyone at first. Not that you want that.” But he might need it. Not physically, obviously. At the moment, the human was capable of cooking and taking care of himself. But emotionally was another matter. If he did not have a need for that, Zarrin would not still be there with him. Yet the human was intent on ignoring this, or denying it. What a strange creature this human was. “I will make tea next time,” Zarrin promised him. “If you show me how to do it now.”
The man dipped his head, giving the impression that he was considering Zarrin’s feet, or perhaps the bandages. He cleared his throat and his next question was something unexpected. “What does a dragon want with a human companion?”
“What does anyone want with a husband?” Zarrin asked in return.
The man dropped his arms, then crossed them again quickly. “But you’re…. You said ‘companion’ before. Do you need a friend? Could that not be found with another dragon?”
“Oh.” Zarrin nodded, understanding the question now. “That was also attempted. But no one wishes to tie themselves down with… that is…. Dragon pride is very great, you see, or can be. It is only an inconsequential prince on offer. One not even trusted by his family with any important duties. Since it has been some time since the dragons have chosen from among the humans, the royal family thought…”
“That this prince might be foisted off on a human,” the human finished for him, rude, but not wrong.
“That isn’t how it used to be,” Zarrin protested. “But yes. The humans so far have been frightened, or in love with others, or greedy. They did not suit.”
“Then it shouldn’t matter if I go or not.”
“You don’t understand humanordragon politics,” Zarrin chided him lightly, making the man rear his head. “That your town sent no one is an insult that has been noticed by the royal family. But I have visited, and I can report back that you, at least, offered no insult. You might have gone to the towers on your own, as tradition suggests, but it seems many humans have forgotten the traditions—and also that no one actuallyasked you. They tried to force you. Are you truly that beautiful? They couldn’t find anyone else that would do?”
Zarrin wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, the scratches on his face so healed now that they barely twinged. He was considering how much longer it would take his feet to heal if he directed his magic elsewhere, when he realized that the man had reached up to remove his helmet.
Zarrin spared a moment to consider the weight of that skull, doubting that the man would have worn it so long if Zarrin had not been there, and then Zarrin was lost to the sheer loveliness of the man in front of him.
He was not beautiful as some would have defined it. Or handsome, as humans claimed only men could be. He was not excessively tall or broad. He had short, messy hair, with questioning eyebrows over sparkling and warm brown eyes, and his lips looked soft. The man wasperhapsbeautiful orperhapshandsome, if he dressed differently or stood in bold sunlight. But what he really was, was pretty in the way it was pretty to sit in a comfortable bed with a cup of strong tea and a pastry. Pretty like spring flowers dotted with recent rain, and pretty like a well-made knife, and pretty like the blankets Zarrin had slept on. Real, tangible, loveliness that anyone would want in their home.
Even his flushed ears were pretty.
Zarrin took a breath. “Oh,” he murmured at last. “I understand.”
