Page 7 of Wings of Frost and Fury
When I join Mordessa in the sky, she whips her tail against mine, as dragons sometimes do after a particularly successful hunt. It’s a gesture of congratulations, of triumph.
We soar higher together, and I spin through the skies with her, twining my frost-fire with her lightning, creating a light as brilliant as the sun.
It’s the first of many more companionable encounters between us. She talks to me of Kyreagan, and I speak to her of my craving for new experiences and carnal pleasure. She weaves long elegies to the pains of love, and I tell her how I ache for beauty and transformation. She mourns a devotion the Prince cannot give her, and I express my desire for something beyond the limited magic we dragons possess.
Through her, I come to understand that I am not broken—at least not entirely. Longing and restlessness are not unnatural. They do not make me wicked. It is only when I lose myself in the longing, when it controls me and causes harm, that the wickedness begins.
Mordessa will carry her love for Kyreagan throughout her entire life, whether or not it is reciprocated. And I will have to carry my lust for alethia as well. I must always be on guard against it. Since I cannot taste even one leaf without becoming obsessed, I will never be able to touch it again. But with Mordessa’s help, I find distraction and amusement in other ways—by hunting the most elusive prey, by competing with other dragons in races over land or water, by trying new and difficult flight patterns, and by pursuing other sensations and experiences.
All of it helps me, as it helps her. But both of us understand what we never openly admit to each other—that while our conversations and activities may dull the ache inside us, the longings are nevertruly gone.
3
SIXTEEN YEARS
SINCE HER EXILE
“Sorceress! I need a spell.” The young man’s voice is brash, borderline arrogant.
“Of course you do.” I know I sound weary, even impatient. I can’t help it.
I’ve only lived near the coastal town of Devil’s Kiss for a couple of weeks. The other two times I came to the market, I was cloaked, but this afternoon it was simply too hot. I didn’t feel like draping myself in fabric or going through the hassle of a disguise spell. I just wanted some creamy cheese and fresh bread to go with my evening wine. I was hoping I could purchase the items quickly and quietly, then escape to my little cottage before anyone realized my identity.
I almost succeeded, but I happened to notice some very fine earrings at a vendor’s stall. I simplyhadto pause and inspect them. I do love a well-designed earring—the larger the better.
Apparently I’m not allowed to shop in peace. Ten seconds after I stopped at the stall, a neighboring vendor recognized me, and the excited whispers began.
I pretended not to notice, hoping those around me would be courteous enough to realize that I’m not here to perform magic for anyone.
I’m simply here to exist.
Unfortunately, the selfishness of humans is an irresistible compulsion. And of course it’s a man who has the audacity to approach me first.
He’s handsome enough, in a cocky, swaggering sort of way. His clothing betrays his family’s wealth. He wears a delicate, almost gauzy white shirt that glistens in the hot sun, along with loose silk pants and a thin gold belt. He has lived in this coastal town all his life, and he knows how to dress to stay cool despite the blazing sun, how to select garments that catch the breeze rushing off the ocean.
“Sorceress, I wish to speak with you.” The young man moves into my space, uncomfortably close, and when I step back, he steps forward, maintaining the same distance between us.
“It’s a rather confidential matter,” he says in a low tone.
I sigh. “Let me guess—it’s your dick. What’s the issue? Function? Form? Size?”
His eyes widen. “How did you know? Can you read minds? Can you… can you see it?” His hand moves down to cover his crotch and he lowers his voice still more. “It’s quite small. Miniscule, in fact. Someone of my rank and station needs a cock that’s appropriately sized.”
“Of course. Everyone knows that rich men must be well-endowed in all areas.”
“Yes! You understand. Can you help me? I’ll pay you well.”
“And what will you do with your new cock?”
He gives me a slow grin, looking me up and down with appreciation. “Don’t worry, beautiful. You can be the first to try it out.”
“I can’t wait,” I say dryly.
“I promise I won’t be selfish with it,” he continues. “I’ll share it with all the women of the region. It’s for their benefit, really. Think of the pleasure I’ll be able to impart.”
“Have you ever made a woman come before?” I raise my voice slightly on this question, and the gathered market-goers draw a little nearer, their interest heightened.
The young man glances around, then gives a forced laugh. “Well… I lack the necessary equipment.”
