Dragon Soul
Page 18
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because…” She glanced over at Mrs. P, who had succeeded in making a paper airplane out of a dollar bill, which she sailed over to Edvard, and was currently engaged in making two more. “Because they don’t exist.”
“Says who? Mortal beings? They do not know about dragonkin. And before you point out that you have neither scales nor a dragon body, let me inform you that dragons these days prefer human forms. In fact, you seldom see one as anything but a human. I gather it makes it easier to do things like drive a car and play a video game, not to mention keeps down the number of curious scientists and their vivisection kits. You, Sophea Long, were married to a dragon who looked just like any other man, but he wasn’t. And that means you aren’t what you appear. You are immortal, can control fire, and are quite possibly the only one of your kind left, since I understand all the red dragons were destroyed or demonized into new forms.”
Sophea sat with her mouth open while he gave his little speech, finally snapping her jaw shut to say in a voice filled with wonder, “I’m a dragon’s mate? Jian was a dragon? A real dragon?”
“He was, and you are.”
She evidently thought that over for a few seconds, her expression running a gamut of emotions, from disbelief to curiosity to acceptance. “Jian had a special quality about him that I thought meant he was my soul mate, but I suppose… goddess, I was a dragon’s wife. I’m a dragonette. Why am I not freaking out at this?”
“Because you’re also a smart woman who knows that you aren’t just a mere mortal,” Rowan said, suddenly feeling each of his thirty-six years. When had his life become so complicated? Had it been the night when he was sixteen, and he had inadvertently killed four innocent dragons? Or had it been the following day, when the demigod originator of all dragons who ever were, and who ever would be, had called him before him to pay for his crime?
“I thought I was perfectly normal, but I’m not. I’m a she-dragon,” Sophea repeated, clearly having a bit of trouble wrapping her brain around that fact. “It’s really true. I squashed that burning bit of paper with my mind. Jeezumcrow! This is amazing! I’m a dragon in human skin!”
“Human form is, I believe, the preferred nomenclature,” he told her, wondering what he was going to do. If she wasn’t with Mrs. P because she, too, sought Bael’s ring of power, then it had to be the most colossal bit of irony that the two women found each other. And what stance would Sophea take when she found out just how desired the ring was? Would she use it to further her own interests? Or would she understand that it had to be destroyed?
“I’m a dragon. Mrs. P, I’m a dragonista,” she told the old woman. “You were right! Jian was a dragon dude.”
“Anyone could see that,” Mrs. P told her dismissively. “Do you have any dollar bills?”
“I have like a thousand questions,” Sophea said a few minutes later, after their meals were deposited in front of them. “But I’ll start with the most important one. Are you a dragon, too?”
“No,” Rowan told her, looking up from his plate. “I’m a sociologist. I believe I mentioned that.”
“Now your man is lying,” Mrs. P said, making kissy sounds at Edvard as he hurried past them out of the dining room. “Tell the gel the truth.”
“Yes, Rowan,” Sophea said with a biting asperity, “tell me the truth.”
“I’m not a dragon—that is the truth,” he insisted. “And that’s what is important right now.”
“Hrrmph.” Sophea didn’t look convinced, but she let the subject drop in favor of peppering him with other questions. “How did you know I was dragon lite? Boy, oh boy, I can’t believe that I’m saying that without having a major mental breakdown. But that fire thing was pretty convincing. Except… I don’t feel any different.”
“You aren’t any different,” Rowan answered around a mouthful of sausage and sauerkraut. “You are exactly the same person you were five minutes ago when you hadn’t the least idea of your heritage. And I knew what you were because you looked to me like a dragon, although I’ve since been corrected as to your real status. I’m told that mates appear as dragons to the rest of the world.”
“Really?” She touched her hair as if it was signaling him. “How? Do I have dragon babe stamped on my forehead that only people in the know can see? Do I look different from other people? Do I smell different? Oh, I hope it’s not that, because I’ll be paranoid for life that I stink or smell weird or something like that.”
He managed a rusty chuckle. “You don’t smell of anything but—” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I’d like to say something pleasant like wildflowers or honey, but all I can smell at the moment is dinner, and I don’t think telling you that you smell like sauerkraut is going to flatter you.”
“You don’t have to flatter me,” she said with another of those fleeting smiles to which he was beginning to look forward. “So you just look at me and… know?”
“Basically, yes,” he said, pushing around a bit of boiled potato. “Also, I am a sociologist. I’m trained to study people in order to better understand them.”
“Do I have wings?” Sophea asked, absently toying with her food. “Do I breathe fire and hoard treasure and chase hobbits?”
“Not that I can see, you can, that’s a question only you can answer, and has one been pestering you lately?”
Her smile turned into a full-fledged giggle. “Not really, no. But I’m still coming to grips with the fact that I was the wife to a mythical creature, and am now a quasi-one myself.”
“Not so mythical, and not so different from anyone else. You simply have the ability to handle fire, and possibly have a deep love of gold.”
“Gold,” she said on a long sigh. “Oh, I do love jewelry. I had to sell everything I had after Jian died, but I fought long and hard to keep my gold wedding ring. It was the last to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, hit again with another one of those urges to be heroic. He frowned at the very idea of him making a grand gesture to impress Sophea—he knew full well the sorts of tragedy that could result from such experiences, and he wanted nothing to do with any such idea.
“Because…” She glanced over at Mrs. P, who had succeeded in making a paper airplane out of a dollar bill, which she sailed over to Edvard, and was currently engaged in making two more. “Because they don’t exist.”
“Says who? Mortal beings? They do not know about dragonkin. And before you point out that you have neither scales nor a dragon body, let me inform you that dragons these days prefer human forms. In fact, you seldom see one as anything but a human. I gather it makes it easier to do things like drive a car and play a video game, not to mention keeps down the number of curious scientists and their vivisection kits. You, Sophea Long, were married to a dragon who looked just like any other man, but he wasn’t. And that means you aren’t what you appear. You are immortal, can control fire, and are quite possibly the only one of your kind left, since I understand all the red dragons were destroyed or demonized into new forms.”
Sophea sat with her mouth open while he gave his little speech, finally snapping her jaw shut to say in a voice filled with wonder, “I’m a dragon’s mate? Jian was a dragon? A real dragon?”
“He was, and you are.”
She evidently thought that over for a few seconds, her expression running a gamut of emotions, from disbelief to curiosity to acceptance. “Jian had a special quality about him that I thought meant he was my soul mate, but I suppose… goddess, I was a dragon’s wife. I’m a dragonette. Why am I not freaking out at this?”
“Because you’re also a smart woman who knows that you aren’t just a mere mortal,” Rowan said, suddenly feeling each of his thirty-six years. When had his life become so complicated? Had it been the night when he was sixteen, and he had inadvertently killed four innocent dragons? Or had it been the following day, when the demigod originator of all dragons who ever were, and who ever would be, had called him before him to pay for his crime?
“I thought I was perfectly normal, but I’m not. I’m a she-dragon,” Sophea repeated, clearly having a bit of trouble wrapping her brain around that fact. “It’s really true. I squashed that burning bit of paper with my mind. Jeezumcrow! This is amazing! I’m a dragon in human skin!”
“Human form is, I believe, the preferred nomenclature,” he told her, wondering what he was going to do. If she wasn’t with Mrs. P because she, too, sought Bael’s ring of power, then it had to be the most colossal bit of irony that the two women found each other. And what stance would Sophea take when she found out just how desired the ring was? Would she use it to further her own interests? Or would she understand that it had to be destroyed?
“I’m a dragon. Mrs. P, I’m a dragonista,” she told the old woman. “You were right! Jian was a dragon dude.”
“Anyone could see that,” Mrs. P told her dismissively. “Do you have any dollar bills?”
“I have like a thousand questions,” Sophea said a few minutes later, after their meals were deposited in front of them. “But I’ll start with the most important one. Are you a dragon, too?”
“No,” Rowan told her, looking up from his plate. “I’m a sociologist. I believe I mentioned that.”
“Now your man is lying,” Mrs. P said, making kissy sounds at Edvard as he hurried past them out of the dining room. “Tell the gel the truth.”
“Yes, Rowan,” Sophea said with a biting asperity, “tell me the truth.”
“I’m not a dragon—that is the truth,” he insisted. “And that’s what is important right now.”
“Hrrmph.” Sophea didn’t look convinced, but she let the subject drop in favor of peppering him with other questions. “How did you know I was dragon lite? Boy, oh boy, I can’t believe that I’m saying that without having a major mental breakdown. But that fire thing was pretty convincing. Except… I don’t feel any different.”
“You aren’t any different,” Rowan answered around a mouthful of sausage and sauerkraut. “You are exactly the same person you were five minutes ago when you hadn’t the least idea of your heritage. And I knew what you were because you looked to me like a dragon, although I’ve since been corrected as to your real status. I’m told that mates appear as dragons to the rest of the world.”
“Really?” She touched her hair as if it was signaling him. “How? Do I have dragon babe stamped on my forehead that only people in the know can see? Do I look different from other people? Do I smell different? Oh, I hope it’s not that, because I’ll be paranoid for life that I stink or smell weird or something like that.”
He managed a rusty chuckle. “You don’t smell of anything but—” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I’d like to say something pleasant like wildflowers or honey, but all I can smell at the moment is dinner, and I don’t think telling you that you smell like sauerkraut is going to flatter you.”
“You don’t have to flatter me,” she said with another of those fleeting smiles to which he was beginning to look forward. “So you just look at me and… know?”
“Basically, yes,” he said, pushing around a bit of boiled potato. “Also, I am a sociologist. I’m trained to study people in order to better understand them.”
“Do I have wings?” Sophea asked, absently toying with her food. “Do I breathe fire and hoard treasure and chase hobbits?”
“Not that I can see, you can, that’s a question only you can answer, and has one been pestering you lately?”
Her smile turned into a full-fledged giggle. “Not really, no. But I’m still coming to grips with the fact that I was the wife to a mythical creature, and am now a quasi-one myself.”
“Not so mythical, and not so different from anyone else. You simply have the ability to handle fire, and possibly have a deep love of gold.”
“Gold,” she said on a long sigh. “Oh, I do love jewelry. I had to sell everything I had after Jian died, but I fought long and hard to keep my gold wedding ring. It was the last to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, hit again with another one of those urges to be heroic. He frowned at the very idea of him making a grand gesture to impress Sophea—he knew full well the sorts of tragedy that could result from such experiences, and he wanted nothing to do with any such idea.
