The group reclined against the ornate walls of the lobby, waiting in place as the dragon had requested before trodding off somewhere in the Halls. Seamus stood in the middle of them, grimacing awkwardly at the silence. Acadian sat with the book in his lap, eyes shut softly in his reclined head.

Flynn was massaging a place on his neck where the dart had struck him earlier. No mark was found, but the pain still radiated in the area. He got up and sat beside Acadian, pulling the book from his lap.

“What do you think yer doin’?” he asked, opening an eye.

Flynn was opening the journal, “This thing could have some powerful stuff inside. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Acadian snatched the book out of his hands, “No. Our job is to get it back to the church. Not take its magic for ourselves.” Flynn looked annoyed but said nothing to protest. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips, tapping his metal-tipped boots together.

After several minutes, Keena reemerged from one of the hallways, followed by something small and fast. It looked like a white feather dancing swiftly around the dragon. When it got closer, it resembled a mouse with a long snout and large ears. The tail of the creature was as long as a cat’s and it feathered out like the wing of an owl.

“New friends,” said Keena, “I would like to introduce my companion, Pippy.” The creature squeaked and stood on its hind legs. Its tail twitched from side to side and it rubbed its wet nose. The beady black eyes squinted as though it were smiling.

Frank pushed his hair behind his ear, “That’s a Duster. They’re fey servants. I thought all faeries were banished.” Pippy scurried over to Frank and climbed up his knee. He scratched her chin and she cooed like a dove.

Keena swung her head much too close to Frank, “They were. But anyone who’s met the fey know they left on their own accord. The Archmagus has never had the power to keep them away. Anyway, Pippy is here to help me be a good host.” At that, Pippy sat on the floor and closed her eyes. She began squeaking a pleasant song, singing notes that the others had never heard on any mortal instrument. A warm bubbly feeling rose within them and they felt their pains and injuries melt away with the song. As the melody continued, sparks like fireflies gently manifested in front of each of them, gathering to form platters of fruits and cheeses. Meats and strange sauces decorated the edges like wreaths on a winter doorframe and each plate was accompanied by a goblet of fresh, cold water.

Seeing the provisions reminded each of them how hungry they were and how long they had been in the company of the dragon and the boy. Even still, they hesitated, anxious to partake in another indulgence within these walls.

Keena giggled a raspy laugh, “Eat, my friends. Please.” The pleasant tone of her voice was enough to convince Gostor to dig in. He began violently plowing through the meal, stuffing his beard with salamis and hams, grapes and olives, only pausing briefly to guzzle down the water. Seeing that he could eat without consequence, the others allowed themselves to partake in the meal.

During the meal, Arsa - who was sitting the closest to Keena - gazed up at her. He coughed to get her attention, but the dragon didn’t seem to notice. He did so again, but she still didn’t even glance at him. Seamus looked across at the elf and waved. When their eyes met, he made a tapping motion with his finger and pointed to Keena’s large paw.

He hesitated, but then gave her scaled claw a gentle tap. Immediately, the dragon swiveled her neck, almost touching Arsa’s nose with her snout.

“Yes dear?” she smiled. Arsa scooted away and began speaking softly to her. She quickly cut him off and asked him to speak up.

He cleared his throat, “You spoke earlier of the Archmagus as though you were there when the faeries were banished. Like you had met them. But that would imply you were around when the council first formed.”

She cocked her head, “Council? Oh, yes, yes. Well, I’m flattered you believe I’m not as old as I am. I’ve been here a very, very long time, my dear. I’ve seen many people come and go. Nations rise and fall. The pendulum of power swing from side to side. The Fey Courts, I’m happy to tell you, are among some of my closest friends. Though I’ve not seen them in quite some time.”

“If you’ll forgive my assumptions,” he replied, “I’ve seen dragons pass on without seeing half the number of generations you have.” All except Gostor ceased their eating to look at Arsa. Acadian’s mouth hung slightly agape.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Flynn spoke before Keena could reply, “You’ve seen dragons?”

Arsa looked to Acadian and then at the ground, “Yes, I have. My upbringing was a bit unique, see. Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you all that I found…”

“Arsa, these things are killers,” Acadian called out with a threatening grumble in his voice. He waved away at the dragon across from him, “No offense.”

“I don’t have a fence,” Keena replied. Frank snickered, prompting Circe to backhand his arm.

Arsa stood to his feet, a look like betrayal quickly contorting his face, “Not all dragons are killers and I don’t like what you imply. You made a career out of hunting dragons, what does that make you?”

“It made me a protector,” Acadian stood and approached the younger elf, scowling down at him beneath his furrowed brow.

“Not for the people of Elkstaaid.”

The room got suddenly quiet. Even Keena, who couldn’t quite hear all that was said, pulled her head away. They all stared at the two who were so close they could feel one another’s breath. Acadian squeezed his fist as his face grew red. Arsa broke their eye contact first and took half a step away. Frank, Circe, and Flynn all stood up, preparing for whatever was to come next.

Suddenly, Acadian turned away, not looking at any of them. Eyes fixed on the door, he walked heavily to the entrance and shoved his way outside. The doors closed, trapping the tension in the silence that remained suffocatingly inside.

~

Keena offered them all rooms within the Alabastrum Halls, as she informed them it was called. She explained that the library acted as her nest and conformed to the desires of her mind. As they walked down the dim hallway, the bookshelves continued to spiral into archways that led to well-furnished bedrooms with four-poster beds and fireplaces with chimneys that led nowhere.

Each of them had a space to themselves, leaving them to ponder the events of the evening in quiet seclusion. Arsa laid on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest. He stared at the fire crackling in the marble fireplace. It reminded him of home.

The heat. The glow. The way it seemed to paint the walls with light. He pulled the egg free from his bag and set it in his lap. The gemstone scales of the shell were soft and fragile, meaning the child inside was pushing tighter against the barrier. As he stroked the face of the egg, a small vibration, like a purr, radiated into his hand.

Are you hers? he wondered. You can’t be. She’s dead.

He thought of Acadian. He felt the heat return to his face as he fell back into the plush pillows on the bed. Frustration and regret caught in his chest. A knock at the door startled him upright as he pulled the egg behind him and covered it with pillows.

“Come in,” he said. Flynn opened the door and stepped inside.

“You okay?” he asked. His armor was off, with just a forest green knit undershirt and slacks. He looked far smaller without the bulky armor, but he still carried significantly more muscle than Arsa. He was smiling at the elf but in a more sympathetic way than usual.

Arsa drew in a deep breath, “Yeah. I crossed a line. He just made me angry.” Flynn crossed the room and sat on the bed. Arsa adjusted his position to ensure the egg remained out of sight.

“I get it. A lot happened today,” he paused. “We learned a lot, too.”

In the heat of the moment, Arsa had forgotten all that he had revealed before bringing up the incident at Elstaaid. He grimaced and looked at the fire again.

“I don’t come from a city like you or Acadian. I never even saw anyone that looked like me until two years ago. My family abandoned me as a baby, or maybe they lost me. I don’t know. But a dragon found me. She took care of me, she raised me.”

Flynn reclined on one hand, “You’re pretty civilized for someone who has been raised by dragons.”

“One dragon. And she never let me believe I was a dragon. She made sure I knew I wasn’t like her. It was always her plan to let me go once I could take care of myself.” Arsa’s attention shifted to the egg under the pillow behind him.

“How did that farewell go?” Flynn asked.

“It didn’t. She died.”

Flynn bit down on his tongue, “Oh. I’m sorry.” He leaned back and laid completely on the bed, resting one arm under his head. Arsa moved awkwardly to continue obscuring the egg. “Are you going to tell Acadian?”

“He’s probably left by now, hasn’t he?”

Flynn shook his head, “Circe talked to him. He’s camping outside, waiting for us tomorrow.”

Arsa nodded slowly, “I don’t know. After tonight, I don’t think it will make too much of a difference.” Flynn hopped off the bed and started for the door. He turned the handle and cracked it open.

“I think it would make all the difference,” he stepped out. “Goodnight.”

When he had closed the door behind him, Arsa let out a sigh of relief. He removed the pillows from the egg and transitioned it to his lap again. Laying back, he held it over his chest and continued to pet down the scales.

“Give it time,” he whispered. “It’s hard to forget how to hate.”

The egg was still purring under his touch. That joyful clicking of a dragon’s vocal cords was like a lullaby, singing Arsa to sleep. The sound reminded him of the way he would crawl in between two particularly rounded spines on his adoptive mother’s tail and be gently rocked under the starry night sky outside their den. He remembered the warmth of the scales beneath him and the safety that low rumble indicated to a lonely, frightened child. He squeezed the egg a little tighter and smiled.

“It’s so easy to remember how to love.”