The night was a velvet shroud, and the firelight danced across half of Aurina’s face, her golden eyes glinting like twin stars.
Even at the fragile boundary where flame met shadow, her gaze burned with an unshakable intensity.
Richard met her eyes, clear as polished glass, untouched by the weight of his secret—the twisted, shameful truth that drove others to wrinkle their noses and flee.
Yet Aurina seemed utterly untroubled by it.
Was she truly indifferent?
Of course she was.
She was barely a month old, a child in dragon’s guise.
She couldn’t possibly grasp what it meant.
That secret was his original sin, a ravenous hunger that set him apart, a beast within that could wound others far too easily.
He’d seen it firsthand, riding with the knightly tribunal, enforcing justice in a world that recoiled from him.
She’s just a child, he thought, and yet I…
“Then what?”
Richard asked, his voice rough.
“I only cook for myself.”
“Why’s that?”
Aurina’s voice was bright, curious, unburdened.
“Because I walk alone,” he said, his words deliberate, carved from years of solitude.
“I’ve thought about this. You’re a dragon—you’ll thrive on your own. You don’t need to trail after me.”
“Besides, Frostsilver’s looking for you. I don’t think you’d fare well with her, but if you steer clear, you’ll grow up safe and sound.”
Could it be that my boundless wisdom has spilled over, sharpening his dull human mind?
Aurina wondered, her eyes narrowing.
Has he glimpsed my grand intentions?
She stared at him, searching for answers in the lines of his face, her golden gaze unrelenting.
Richard mistook her silence for shock, for an inability to accept his words.
“You’ll do fine on your own,” he added, softer now.
“Oh,” Aurina said, her voice a fleeting breeze, as if his words had merely brushed past her.
Sometimes, she thought, I’m far too courteous to this little insect.
“What does it matter?” she asked, tilting her head.
“I just want to ride on your shoulders.”
“Go,” Richard said, his tone firm.
“Or do you enjoy being bossed around and bonked on the head?”
“Cook me something!”
Aurina demanded, thrusting an empty pot toward him.
“Aurina,” Richard said, his patience fraying, “this isn’t a game. You’re not a queen, and I’m not as patient or capable as you think. I’m tired of pretending we have to stick together.”
“But the pot’s empty,” she countered, her voice small but stubborn.
“I haven’t caught anything to eat today. This collar—it stops me from turning into a dragon.”
“Go, Aurina.”
She turned away, and for a fleeting moment, Richard felt a strange relief.
But then a question gnawed at him.
Was he truly sending her away for her own good, to protect her from harm?
Or was it fear—fear that she’d unravel the fragile control he’d clung to for years, fear that she’d make him falter and fall?
Or was it the dread of parting that cut deepest?
Aurina was innocent, blissfully ignorant, unlike Sophia, who had seen the monstrous truth of him and still opened her heart.
But when Aurina grew older, when her naivety faded, she’d surely turn away, nose wrinkled, leaving him behind—again and again.
He hated his own hypocrisy, cloaking his fear in noble excuses.
But Aurina didn’t leave.
She stopped, reached into her pocket, and with a flourish, spilled a cascade of gold coins onto the ground.
Before Richard’s eyes, she shaped them into a circular bed, a glittering nest of wealth.
“Aurina, I’m not joking.”
Dragons, it seemed, paid no heed to the words of mere insects.
She wasn’t done.
From her mouth, she produced a wisp of blue—a cloud-like fabric.
Richard blinked.
It was his sky-blue cloak, the one he’d left hanging on a tree when he’d walked away.
She’d retrieved it.
It struck him then: unable to transform into her dragon form, with her… peculiar way of thinking, how had she tracked him down?
It must have taken her ages, stumbling through the world with that strange, stubborn mind of hers.
And yet, that very persistence made the future all the more painful.
When she grew up, when she understood the darkness of his secret, she’d leave him, repulsed.
How would he bear it?
“Aurina,” he said, his voice heavy, “we’re not companions anymore.”
Unfazed, she draped the sky-blue cloak over her coin-bed, curled up, and promptly fell asleep.
Richard pressed a hand to his forehead, exasperation blooming.
As soon as Aurina’s breathing steadied and tiny sparks flickered from her nose, he gathered his things, slung the pot onto his horse, and mounted the saddle, ready to ride off.
Then he saw her stir.
Aurina rose, sucked the gold coins back into her possession with a single breath, and sprinted toward him.
With a leap, she landed on his horse, startling the beast into a nervous whinny.
“Aurina,” Richard said, his voice stern, “I’m not joking.”
She studied him, her eyes flicking over him as if measuring his strength.
She had to admit—for now—he was just a smidge stronger than her.
“Got it,” she said, and in a flash, she wrapped her arms and legs around him from behind, clinging like an octopus.
“Don’t cling to me!”
Richard groaned.
“Ugh… you’re not listening, are you?”
She tilted her head, gazing up at the starry sky.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he said, exasperated.
“It’s time to be honest, to say the things that are hard to say.”
“Speak, then,” she said, with the magnanimity of a queen granting permission.
“Can you… loosen your grip a little?”
“What, you think I’m foolish?” she shot back.
Richard sighed, a sound heavy with all the exasperation Aurina had wrung from him.
He dismounted, pulling her down with him.
Only when their feet touched the earth did she reluctantly let go.
“Look,” he began, “you’re practically a young lady now. I need to explain some things—basic biology, really.”
“I was going to let Sophia handle this when we got back to my hometown. She’s a woman, so she’d be better suited for it.”
Aurina nodded sagely.
Indeed, she thought, a fine female to bear my dragon offspring.
“But since you’ve stumbled onto my secret,” Richard continued, “I have to explain it to you now.
What it is, what it means.”
“What is it?”
Aurina’s eyes lit up, delighted at the prospect of this mighty insect revealing his weakness to his foe.
“Well…”
Richard hesitated, racking his brain for the right words, regretting that he hadn’t brought more books on the subject.
“Do you know how… babies are made?”
Aurina blinked.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you’re young,” he said gently, “but you need to be ready for this.
Babies aren’t brought by birds or found on the roadside.
They come from—” He paused, searching for the right term.
“From organs—”
“Why are you telling me this?” she interrupted, bewildered.
“Aurina,” he said, his patience a thin thread, “this is important. Once you understand, you’ll see what my secret means.”
“You’re such an idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it,” Richard insisted.
“I need to explain how babies are born to get to the part about s—”
He stopped, noticing her expression shift.
Her gaze was… pitying, as if she were looking at a simpleton.
Normally, a look like that wouldn’t faze him.
Everyone’s been called foolish before.
But this was Aurina, whose intellect was, to put it kindly, a bit wanting.
“Do you even know what sex is?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“If you don’t, listen carefully.”
“Double flight, mother-daughter bowl, oral—” she began, rattling off terms with alarming confidence.
“Wait, what are you saying?”
Richard’s voice rose, incredulous.
“I’m talking about sex,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Her small hands crossed over her chest, and from her cherubic lips poured a deluge of scandalous terms, a flood of impropriety that left Richard reeling.
First came confusion, then shock, and finally, he stood there, drowning in her words, eyes wide and mouth agape.
Five full minutes passed before he waved a hand to silence her.
“How do you know all this? You’re so young!”
“Pathetic,” she said, smirking.
“Clearly a little virgin. Grown so big, yet not a single heir, and I bet you’ve never even done the deed.”
“Right,” Richard said, grasping at straws, “you’ve got dragon memories.
But those are just facts—you don’t understand what… what my two little things mean.”
“What?”
Aurina’s face twisted with disdain.
“You’re talking about those tiny bits? Insects are so petty, fussing over something smaller than an ant’s concern.”
“So tiresome, so small-minded. I’m going to sleep. When I wake, I expect your apology in the form of a cooked meal.”