Page 54 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
I try to argue myself out of it. I am a witch. He is a dragon. There’s nosenseto any of this. My life isnota fairy-tale book.
Though there must be something wrong with me that I’ve always wished it was. That I was really that princess. That I couldlive in a turret and lose myself in books, and imagine whatever I liked where no one else could see it or hear it or know.
He shakes his head sadly, like I’m a failing pupil—and while I have always played up theGeorgie is in the cloudsnarrative, I never failed a class.
The longing in me feels heavy, like spun gold, but I make myself ignore him. I reach out into the archives.Archives, strong and true. Keeper of fact, of knowledge, of truth. Show me, what have the Joywood been up to?
But nothing happens.
I close my eyes and try to focus more on books than the dragon standing behind me. But once again, nothing happens.
Because it couldn’t be that easy. I rub my hands over my face and catch a hint of his scent from the dancing. It goes throughme like a shattering. “I suppose I’ll have to work harder at it.”
“I suppose,” Azrael agrees, and Idon’tappreciate the agreement.
“Maybe it will show me something else. Something important. Something...” I turn and Azrael is still holding my fairy-talebook, the cover pointed at me. Like nothing could possibly be more important than that embrace.
Something inside me uncoils at that.
My heart seems to leap into my throat. I swear I can see... some vision that feels like a memory, though it isn’t mine.It’s the princess in her dress, holding her sword, her heart a song I already know.
It’s been singing in me since Thanksgiving.
Before that.
Right now, here in the buttery light of the archives, it’s the loudest it’s ever been.
And I understand that my resistance grows stronger when I’m most afraid that I’m about to dissolve into him the way the archivesdo around us. Because once I do, there’s no taking it back.
This thing between us has been a vow since the start.
Since I sat on a staircase and whispered my most private thoughts to a banister.
The uncoiling thing in me seems to laugh at that.That is nothing like the start.
“You still don’t understand, Georgina,” Azrael says, and there is some rare gravity in his voice while all that fierce dragongold staresintome.
“Understand what?” I ask breathlessly.
But inside, I keep going back. Back to my own history, fora change. I let myself remember all the dreams I used to have of dragons.Adragon. Walking together in a foggy wood. Flying high over places that were nothere. Waking together in a warm bed, a cozy cave. Fighting, side by side, for right.
For love.
Every time.
My mother tried to charm that away too. Because those dreams did not become me, she would say. They were a sign I was toosilly, too foolish, and we couldn’t have that.
“Understandwhat, Azrael?” I ask, because I can feel the greatknowinginside me,just there. On the other side of this cliff I’ve been dancing on for far too long.
He doesn’t explain. Not in words.
His huge, solid arms come around me. “You already know,” he tells me in a low voice.
Then his mouth is on mine.
And it’s like I’ve never been kissed before in all my life.
That great, wild song inside me swells.
