To Marry a Dragon

6. Wings of Black

Updraft pushed Ferrante higher, easing the tension in his wings. He hadn't felt that sore and bone-weary since his training days. Somehow the dragon form had its own hidden set of tendons and muscles. Light only knew where it all went when he was a human. Yet, he stubbornly pushed forward even when the benevolent air current no longer helped him. Wings up, wings down. Three, four. He had to hurry, if he wanted to save Elvira.

"Hey, easy, easy on the crushing! Your talons are like a vise," Lukrezia yelled at him.

"Sorry, milady," he muttered, relaxing his stiffened fingers... or talons, depending on the perspective. Apparently, thinking about Elvira and Sigvart made him fantasize about bashing heads with his fists. Jealousy ate at him, and the dragon's essence, in turn, fed on it, wheedling into his ear to turn around, find Sigvart and breathe acid and poison until his rival's remains lay charred before him in a twisted ruin. Together with the street he walked on and all the onlookers, and the entire village or town that sheltered the apostate—

"Ferrante! Sir!"

"I'm sorry," he muttered again. Such was the nature of dragon rage. It never stopped at one thing, but spread out like wasps out of a kicked nest, ready to sting everything in their way.

Lukrezia wiggled, settling into a more comfortable position. "A penny for your thoughts?"

Clever lady, she is trying to distract me from losing myself in silence and gloom.

If he could furrow his brow, he would, thinking of a topic that didn't lead to nursing his hatred toward Sigvart. "One thing I don't understand is why the curse hit when it did. Elvira dominated my thoughts for weeks, and they weren't always innocent."

"Pfft," Lukrezia snorted, "that is precisely why the contract is not a curse scribbled on a shred of paper by a charlatan mage. The value of arcana is that the conditions can be fine-tuned to respond to the circumstances precisely. For example, should the contract's actionable items be activated every time a man other than Sigvart conceived a not-so-innocent thought directed at Elvira, that would have caused unnecessary complications. Ditto for thoughts either of you cannot immediately transform into an action capable of offending Sigvart's honor."

Ferrante chuckled, imagining lightning strikes decimating the court in Elvira's wake. It was a relief to know that he was free to dream about her now.

"Ditto for Elvira mooning over a man."

"Fair enough." The dragon essence rebelled against the possibility, lacing his voice with acid.

"Do you think that in a decade Elvira had never cast her eyes on someone else?" Lukrezia probed.

"I couldn't imagine where she'd find the time," Ferrante said defensively. "You should have seen her racing after the goblins! Full commitment, no distractions at all. That's why... that's when..."

The onrushing wind whistled, as Ferrante indulged in the memories of strands falling out of what she had called her warrior knot and gray eyes blazing with fervour. The color rising in her cheeks with the excitement of the chase, not to mention the leather-wrapped curves of her hips as they rode... and a myriad other things he loved about her.

He screamed his frustration and strained his wings to carry him farther with each stroke. May the black pits of doom swallow him whole if he wouldn't make it to Rotdaam ahead of Elvira finding Sigvart!

When roaring blood subsided in his ears, he discovered that Lukrezia droned on, currently mid-sentence.

"...if and only if the psychic trigger threshold is reached, the response plan becomes active. First, the risk is assessed and the trend of the resonating emotional abnormalities is upward in three separate sampling events, the first-order discouragement measures are enacted."