I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2)

scent of a one-Princess revolution?
* * * *
In the early evening, he and Azania visited the former slaves of the Skartun, overseeing the removal of their body armour and head cages, and the treatment of many wounds. Some of these wounds were the burns inflicted inside their ear canals by the dreadful electrical inductors, which had caused permanent deafness in half of their number. One Dragoness was severely ill. Inzashu worked with her for over an hour, stabilising her condition, before moving on to help with the others.
They quizzed the Dragons. Encouraging signs! Two of the older males, Soar Windchaser and Ruthless Obliterator – Azania had a private giggle at their names – were able to speak, albeit slowly and in muddled, incomplete sentences. Their strong Skartunese accents were hard to follow, but with Princess Inzashu playing occasional interpreter, they worked out that the deaf Dragons had developed a basic form of sign language during captivity. In time, they would be able to brief King N’chala on many aspects of Skartun life, culture and military organisation. They were more than willing to turn a paw to rebuilding the city.
The Dragons confirmed that the Jabiz of the Skartun sought fresh Dragons. Those in captivity had never bred well, almost not at all. The Skartun leaders had ambitions to conquer realms south again of their lands, but felt their armies needed to be bolstered by new recruits.
So grateful were his kin for their rescue, Dragon felt his eyes prickle in reaction. Not tears. Dragons had no tear ducts. Instead, they relied on their natural fires to burn away impurities or airborne particles and insects.
What was this feeling, then? Similar to the leaking Azania had done in private, away from the throne room and the frayed emotions resulting from her encounter with her brother? Dragons lamented for a soul’s overshadowing sorrow, but rarely grieved on behalf of another. Kin-grief, as it was called in the Draconian language, was a rare, precious gift.
Azania gave him a subtle nudge. “Fly us up to the Palace?”
Weary. Aye, this too, he understood – grief exacted such a toll upon the body. Taking both Princesses upon his neck, he flew them up to the flat-roofed Royal Palace, teasing Azania along the way that there was no tallest tower in all the land to rescue Princesses from. Clearly a severe failing in the development of T’nagrun architectural design.
“Maybe we should find you a tower, Inza?” Azania tugged her sister’s leg.
“Ooh, where I should be rescued by a Dragon? The only problem I have with that, is the stinky Prince angle,” she chortled. “I mean, if he’s nice then no need for the Dragon, but what if he’s as nasty as your Prince Floric?”
“My Prince Floric? Wash your mouth out with soap, young lady!”
Inzashu chuckled merrily.
Dragon said, “There’s something more serious I wanted to discuss with both of you. I sense we might need to spirit you away from here, Inzashu.”
“That premonition of danger you had in the throne room?” she asked immediately.
“Aye.” Reaching up with his paw, he found her leg. “Smart girl.”
“That’s my knee,” Azania lied.
“Ditto for both Princesses,” he snorted. “When we get to your room, we should seriously consider our next moves. I’m thinking we spirit you away without tipping off the King … or your half-brothers.” As Azania began to protest, he said, “I’m not accusing Aragu of anything, mind. Nor have I any well-developed sense of where or how such a danger might arise. However, there is also the consideration that Nahritu-N’shula might have established other backup plans here in N’ginta Citadel.”
The older Princess let out her breath in a long, approving sigh.
The younger said, “All the more reason for me to stay. I can detect my mother’s return and work against her, if needs be.”
Azania said, “No, Inzashu –”
“That’s courageous of you,” Dragon said. “Let’s us three talk about this in private, later. No, don’t you growl at me. I don’t mean the older ones will decide for you. We’ll talk together.”
The girl patted his neck uncertainly. “I … thank you, Dragon.”
“I try. When I fail, I start eating cheeky Princesses.”
“Why did the Dragon need to be saved from the wicked Princess?” Azania teased unexpectedly.
GRRROARRRGGGH!!
“My thoughts exactly. Now, how’s about we run you a salt bath?”
“Genius,” he purred. “Clearly, I kidnapped you for your brains rather than your woefully skinny rump.”
“I guess that makes me the butt of the joke,” came the talon-swift reply.
Inzashu made a scandalised gasp.
“The youngster’s a bit behind, there,” Dragon quipped.
Both Princesses groaned.
“Keeping up the rear … as usual.”
“Dragon, you are incorrigible,” Azania snorted. “Drumroll, trumpet salute.”
“That’s what Prince Floric does with his –”
“Dragon!”
“I rather hope not!” he snorted, ever so drily, and had the distinction of not one but two Princesses nearly falling off his neck, breathless with laughter.
In the bathing chamber at the end of the royal corridor, the maidservants filled a bathing pool for Dragon, into which they threw two sacks of salt and stirred it vigorously. He teased one of the maids that he could dangle her in by her toes and use her for a large stirring spoon, making her burst into tears. Great. Time for a gentle paw and an explanation, that aye, Dragons did indeed have a heinous sense of humour.
Then, he dunked his head and gargled salt water for a very pleasurable quarter of an hour or so, while they discussed plans. He bathed his eyes and tried rolling in the ten-foot bath, which really was not built for a fifty-three foot, multi-tonne Dragon.
“Feels great on the scales,” he said.
“I can imagine,” Azania said. “Oh, who’s knocking? It’s late.”
“Oh, don’t let them in to see my nakedness,” Dragon gurgled, trying by hook or by crook to immerse his whole tail