The questioning eyebrows tightened into a frown, but the man directed it at the floor. “The mayor’s son, years ago… or still, I suppose. He desired me but would not marry me. For that, no one else would marry me, either, although they have made their wants known. That is why they wished to send me away to the dragons. Their version of revenge. To humiliate me, or hoping I would be eaten.”
Zarrin could not stop staring at him. “You were kind for caring for me, clever in the design of your suit, and patient to build your wall of thorns. You are lovely, but you are more than someone to be desired. They were foolish to think that sending you to the palace would beyourhumiliation, or that any of the dragons would not choose you.”
The man’s gaze flew to his. The flush at his ears was in his cheeks, too. He studied Zarrin for a moment in which Zarrin could not breathe, and then he looked away again. “I should check your wounds.”
“My wounds.” Zarrin abruptly remembered them. “I am… not sure I will be able to make it through the woods today,” he said carefully. “May I stay for another night? I can sleep outside, or on the floor so you may have your blankets back.”
The man looked at him, startled. He frowned again, but it did not seem angry. Dragons, or Zarrin, must confuse him very much. “You want to stay? On the floor? But you’re rich. You have servants.”
Zarrin shrugged as well as a dragon could. “I would offer to cook for my host, but I cannot.”
The man’s gaze sharpened. “You’re not merely rich. You’re a noble dragon, aren’t you?”
Zarrin shook his head ruefully. “The humans have truly forgotten the ways of the towers, haven’t they? Yes. I am noble. But I am also useless and little.”
“You came through the woods, after dark, to challenge a beast,” the man argued.
“And lost, due to a thorn in my foot,” Zarrin reminded him mournfully.
“You really aren’t very fierce.” Confused again, the man treated Zarrin to another pretty frown.
“I could be.” Zarrin smiled to show teeth. He was hot inside and out. “When it’s needed. If I decided to be, if I needed to be, I would be dragon enough to battle the King and Queen themselves.”
“You said that before, something like that. About need.”
“It is a distinction dragons often make.” Zarrin huffed, pleased that the man had noticed. “I have never cared for anyone before, but here I am, an answer to a wish.”
The soft lips parted. The man did not pretend to misunderstand Zarrin or ignore him this time. “You think I need that?” he demanded, but quietly. “And why would that be you? You can’t even make tea.”
Zarrin pouted, and chewed his lip while the human grew more visibly startled. “I can make the water boil,” he reasoned.
The human snorted, then coughed as if he had wanted to laugh. “I have work to do.”
Zarrin inched closer. “Might I help?”
“You…” Rendering this unusual human so silent and baffled, and watching the various emotions cross his pretty face as he tried to fight the feeling, was something Zarrin found he enjoyed. He waited patiently until the man finally gestured awkwardly at him. “If you can heat more water, I can wash some things so they can dry while the sun is out.”
Zarrin beamed and bounded eagerly forward. The human startled, so Zarrin slowed to a more sedate and regal pace.
He remembered to limp a moment later, but did not think the human noticed, for all his staring.
DOZING IN THE SUN, not far from the firepit and cauldron behind the small house, Zarrin watched the man hang up blankets and shirts to dry and then sit on a stump while he worked on a basket. The weaving was intricate, the design beautiful, but it would have been easier if the man removed his bulky coat of fur and spikes.
The man knew it, too, but with a glance to Zarrin, he had left the coat on before he’d sat down, so Zarrin had said nothing. Zarrin was content to gaze upon him and the smooth movements of his hands.
“Do you sell those in town?” Zarrin wondered aloud after what might have been hours.
The man barely reacted, as if he had known Zarrin was watching him. “A frie… someone takes them for me. I… used to craft chairs and tables as well. Build things. But I have no way to get those through the woods, so I don’t anymore.”
“You miss it,” Zarrin observed. “I could figure out a way to get things through the woods,” he added.
“Don’t,” the man insisted, voice low, cheeks dark. But then he glanced over. “Though I think maybe you mean well.”
Zarrin had never been paid such a compliment. He basked in it for the rest of the afternoon.
DURING THEIR DINNER, the man surprised him again. “What is your name?” he asked, eyes on his food. “Or should I keep calling you ‘Dragon’ in my mind?”
“Zarrin,” Zarrin informed him with pleasure, and waited for another piece of delicious bread to be offered to him. But no bread was forthcoming.
