We sat on a wind-swept hillock just outside town, far enough that the air didn’t sll like regret and old cabbage. The belltower was still visible in the distance, tolling sothing holy while I made my pitch for sothing very, very unholy.
“Just think about it,” I said, pacing in front of him like a market hawker who knew her spices were halfway sawdust. “It’s perfect. Don’t you see it?”
The Dragon didn’t answer. He just watched , coiled and quiet, tail twitching like a cat about to pounce on logic.
I plowed on. “The whole story. Virgin sacrifice, dragon, hero. Full circle. A closed loop. No chance of so idiot wandering in with a pointy stick and righteous delusions. We control the story now.”
Still silence.
I gestured wildly at the air, as if it would do the diagramming for . “We give the people what they want. A fearso beast. A pure maiden. And a gallant protector. All in on the sa scam.”
The Dragon’s head tilted slightly. “You’re not a maiden.”
“I’m… maiden-adjacent,” I offered. “The point is: we’re tight. Cohesive. Mythologically waterproof.”
His golden eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting we partner with Sir Odran.”
“Exactly!” I bead. “He plays the hero, I play the bait, you play the monster. We run the show. It’s foolproof.”
A long beat.
Then:
“Nice sandals,” he said dryly.
I glanced down at my feet. New. Strappy. Blue. The sandals I whored myself for yesterday. Still looked great. Still pinched like guilt.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Another pause.
Then his nostrils flared. Subtly. Deliberately.
“You slept with him.”
I froze. “What?”
He didn’t blink. “Sir Odran. You reek of him. And I count at least three bruises shaped like his hands.”
I sighed and flopped back onto the grass, limbs splayed in dramatic surrender.
“You’re such a romantic,” I groaned. “Yes. Fine. I slept with him.”
The Dragon didn’t say anything.
I peeked one eye open.
Still watching. Still unreadable.
I threw an arm over my face. “It was tactical. Diplomatic. Sort of… pelvic diplomacy.”
“That’s not a real term.”
“It is now.”
The Dragon stared at in silence.
Then a long, slow exhale hissed from his nostrils.
“Do you ever hear yourself?”
I blinked. “Yes. I sound brilliant.”
“No. You sound unhinged.” He shifted, wings rustling. “You want to recruit a halfwit sellsword with a god complex into our very illegal, very delicate operation—because, what, it completes the story arc?”
I lifted my hands. “Exactly! Don’t look at like that. You thought I was insane when I first suggested you partner with .”
“And I wasn’t wrong,” he muttered.
“Oh, bite .”
He gave a look. “Too easy.”
I jabbed a finger at him. “Look, last ti you tried to go full dragon alone, you barely limped back. You were bleeding from your left flank and whining about your scales.”
“I was not whining.”
“You were bleeding on .”
“I was injured.”
“You were flailing. Dramatically. And you crashed into a grain silo.”
“That was... wind shear.”
“That was hubris.”
He growled. Low and dangerous. “I don’t trust heroes.”
“Good,” I said. “Neither do I.”
His eyes narrowed. “Especially not that one. He’s incompetent.”
“Exactly!” I clapped my hands. “That’s what makes him perfect. A competent hero would never go along with this. They’d sniff out the scam and start preaching about destiny and justice and start monologuing while stabbing.”
He frowned. “And you think this one won’t?”
“Please. He’ll rehearse his lines in the mirror and trip on the cape. We’ll script the whole thing and he’ll think he ca up with it.”
The Dragon didn’t answer.
He just stared toward the town. The belltower chid again in the distance — a hollow, self-righteous sound.
Finally, he rumbled, “You’re going to regret this.”
“I regret everything,” I muttered. “It’s part of my charm.”
Another beat of silence.
“Why him?” he asked at last. “Out of everyone you could’ve chosen.”
I didn’t answer.
He didn’t press.
Instead, he shook his massive head, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You’re reckless. Irresponsible. Shortsighted.”
“And you,” I snapped, “are the most stubborn overgrown lizard I’ve ever t.”
We stared at each other.
And then I grunted. “Fine. Don’t help.”
He grunted back. “Fine. Do it anyway.”
We both turned away.
Which, of course, ant the plan was on.
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