The Dragon's Charm

Chapter 10

The morning sun had climbed well into the sky by the time Cathal returned to Margaret's house. He found Sandra and his sister seated in the garden, teacups balanced delicately in their hands as morning birds called from nearby trees. The scene was peaceful, domestic even, but Cathal's heart clenched at the shadow of sadness he glimpsed in Sandra's eyes – a shadow that hadn't been there when he'd left.

Margaret, displaying her usual gift for reading situations, gathered the empty teapot with practiced efficiency. "I should check on those sweet rolls I was baking," she said, though Cathal detected no smell of baking bread. She squeezed his arm as she passed, her expression carrying equal measures of sympathy and reproach.

Alone in the garden, Cathal struggled to find the right words. The speech he'd composed during his flight back suddenly seemed inadequate. "Sandra, I—"

"You don't need to explain," she interrupted softly, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her teacup.

"I'm still sorry," he said, moving closer but not quite reaching for her. "It's my duty to protect. The valley needed immediate action, and..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "I find myself especially driven to protect those I... care about."

Sandra finally looked up at him, her eyes clear despite their lingering sadness. "That's what you don't understand, Cathal. I'm not upset that you left to help them. I'm not even upset that you left me behind." She set down her teacup with deliberate care. "What hurt was finding out from a letter. As if I wouldn't understand, as if I needed to be sheltered from the reality of what you are."

The truth of her words struck him like a physical blow. He'd been so focused on protecting her that he'd failed to respect her strength – the very strength that had drawn him to her from the beginning.

"I've spent centuries making decisions alone," he admitted quietly. "It's a habit that may take some time to break."

"Then it's fortunate," Sandra replied, a hint of her usual warmth returning to her voice, "that I'm rather patient. At least when it comes to dragons who are trying to learn new tricks."

Cathal felt something tight in his chest begin to loosen. "I don't deserve your understanding."

"Probably not," she agreed, but now there was definitely a smile tugging at her lips. "But you have it anyway. Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

"Next time you need to save a village, wake me up first. I'd rather hear it from you than read it in a letter."

The dragon charm at her throat caught the morning light, reminding Cathal of how much had changed since she'd entered his life. "I promise," he said solemnly, though his eyes sparkled with relief. "Besides, I suspect you might have some useful insights about handling bandits. You did manage to tame a dragon, after all."

Sandra's laugh rang out across the garden, bright and clear as spring water. From somewhere inside the house, Cathal heard his sister humming contentedly, and he knew that despite his misstep, everything would be alright.

*****

Weariness settled deep in Sandra's bones as they flew through the evening air. The previous night felt impossibly long – lying awake after discovering Cathal's absence, her mind spinning with worry for his safety and the ache of feeling somehow forgotten. She had spent those dark hours in prayer, not just for his protection but for the wisdom to explain how his silent departure had wounded her.

It wasn't that he owed her anything, not really. They'd known each other such a short time. Yet somewhere between shared meals and gentle conversations, between flying through mountain air and watching him tend to his village, she'd begun to care for him more deeply than she'd expected. His departure without a word had made her feel foolish for allowing her heart to become so invested so quickly.

But then he'd understood. He'd truly heard why his actions had hurt her, and that understanding had done more than just heal the hurt – it had drawn her even closer to him. It was so perfectly Cathal, she thought, this capacity for growth, this willingness to learn even after centuries of life.

His goodness showed in everything he did. She thought of how he'd immediately given her his bedroom upon her arrival, moving his belongings to the outer chamber without hesitation. "Dragons can be comfortable almost anywhere," he'd insisted with that gentle smile of his. But she'd discovered the truth one sleepless night – finding him curled on a padded bench in the sitting room, his tall frame somehow compressed into the too-small space. Even in his human form, he put everyone's comfort before his own.

Now, cradled against his dragon chest as they soared through the darkness, Sandra could feel the bite of the mountain air on her exposed face while the rest of her remained wonderfully warm. Almost without thinking, she reached up to touch the emerald scales beneath her hand. The response was immediate and completely unexpected – a deep, resonant purr that vibrated through his entire chest.

Sandra couldn't contain her delight. A giggle bubbled up and escaped her lips before she could stop it. The dragon's purr had been so... unexpectedly domestic, like an oversized housecat. The sound of her laughter seemed to float away on the night wind, but she felt Cathal's chest rumble again, this time with what she suspected was amusement at his own unexpected reaction.