Trust was a fickle thing, but Brandon had earned hers. This was but a game between them, a charade that showed the opposite of reality to everyone else. He held the rope and lead the way, but she was in control. It should have stirred harsh memories and old wounds. Instead, the slight pull forwards felt oddly calming. For once, she was not the one charging ahead but following a literal lead.

What she could not deal with was not speaking her mind. Three opportunities to make a good joke and nobody used them.

“Do you know your way around Prina?” Brandon asked, and dragged Sylph’s attention back to the conversation in front of her. She had no trouble listening in from all the way back with the camel.

“Sure, been selling there since I was an apprentice,” the old man answered. His voice wavered for a second as he reconsidered, started a sentence and stopped, until finally he continued. “The name’s Elliot and that is my son, Tim.”

“Brandon.” He did not introduce her, which felt awful, but seemed to be the right call.

Elliot turned around. His scrutinizing gaze wandered from Sylph’s head to tail and stopped on her scar. Her wings and scar matched their lie, but maybe she just did not behave as expected. The thought made her proud. Whatever her place was in the grand story of things, it would not be a slave.

“That magic chain of yours.” Elliot scratched his bushy beard. “It makes her submissive to you? They are a her am I right? I remember you calling her a she, always hard to tell with Aer.”

Brandon nodded. “It all depends on one pathwalker in our service. Very skillful. One session is enough.”

“So your business depends on one person? And your entire operation would fall apart without him?” Elliot mumbled, and his gaze went back to Sylph. “Have you considered Sol? They are easy to deal with, practically submit themselves to their lowest caste and have no ambition.”

It was hard to imagine that a dragon would submit themselves to slavers. Their methods had to be horrible. Pain and punishment did it to her. Arastra and Oasis would not submit to anyone just like that. Albeit their ways of fighting it would differ vastly.

“Can she talk?” Tim asked.

“Of course I can talk,” Sylph spat, trying to hide the aggression in her voice. What a question. Did she look like she was missing two limbs, too? Like a wyvern? She realized her mistake as their gazes hardened. His question was if she was allowed to, not if she can. “If he allows me to,” she added, turned to Brandon and lowered her head in a very slight bow, as if to apologize. This was degrading.

“So much for well behaved. But, I must admit that I am curious why you’d choose an Aer to fight. They aren’t built for it.” Elliot approached her as Tim did before and grasped her snout. But unlike Tim, his grip was much harsher, and he twisted and turned her head as he pleased. Searing fiery streaks of pain followed the trail of his fingers as he dragged them down the side of her head. This was a test to see if what they pretended was true. She would not show her pain to people like him.

His fingers ran along her two horns and gave her a slight break. He smiled as if he noticed the pain she hoped to hide and enjoyed her plight. Brandon watched the scene with a cold, hard gaze, but it flickered and darted between her face and Elliot. He seemed afraid of what she might do if he continued and afraid of getting caught if he let himself slip out of his role.

Elliot walked past her side. His fingers never left her body as they slid along her tense muscles. Every scale he touched was a little needle driving itself into her skin. By the time he reached her wings, the needles had reached the hundreds. She kept her head slightly turned, one eye always focused on what he would do next to prepare for the pain.

The needles grew sharper and longer the more scales he pressed. Her eyelids twitched in desperation. She wanted to scream and burst free. She could end it with a single word, a single word could end her suffering and stop this. But she decided against it. She had endured so much worse as a mere hatchling. This was nothing. Pain is strength growing, Veria had said. If this was what it took to find the city faster, then so be it.

“Your employer has a strict training routine.” His hand ran up her wings. He pulled one of them open and stretched out her muscles to the point of being painful.

“But that has to be one of the worst wing bindings I’ve ever seen.” He twisted her wing at a weird angle. A tiny movement, but the pain was comparable to getting your arm twisted out of its socket. Sylph twitched in pain against her will. “See? Shoddy job. It would be a vulnerability in the arena. I know someone that does wing removal rather competently.”

As if she would let someone take her wings completely. Even if they were wrong, they were hers.

Elliot let go, and his hand ran further down her side, trailing a line of burning pain. He continued towards the base of her tail and squeezed. It sent an uncomfortable, hot shiver up her spine. She would endure as much pain as needed, but not him touching the base of her tail.

Sylph spun around and shot forward. Her jaw closed around his forearm before he could pull away. A burning rush built deep in her chest as blood pooled on her tongue.

Cloth ripped and flesh tore as Elliot jerked his arm out of her mouth. If she had not released him, he would have torn away all flesh pulling like that. Hopefully, the wound would fester, rot, and the arm fall off. She spat out the pieces of cloth and tensed up her body.

The silence of disbelief spread for an endless second as Sylph licked the blood from her teeth. Elliot went pale and flicked through a vast range of emotions all at once until the initial surprise faded and the pain overwhelmed him. His ear-piercing scream tore through the desert. He clutched his bleeding arm and stumbled backwards. “She’s not behaved at all!”

Brandon played unimpressed as Elliot clenched his teeth at him. “She should be executed. Tim, get the whip!”

A low growl rumbled in her throat. She bared her bloodied teeth at Tim, who stopped dead in his tracks. He would go nowhere. Sylph was about to speak up, but Brandon stepped in front. “I would choose my next words wisely,” he sneered. “I don’t know what it is you are trying to do. Maybe you try asking before touching another man’s property.” He straightened up and raised his shoulders. She had not said the word. He still pretended.

Nobody said anything. Blood dripped from the shreds of Elliot’s arm. The sweet taste filled her mouth. Her chest pumped with energy and threatened to erupt. She peered past Brandon and waited for any suspicious movement, for one of them to reach for a sword or grab a whip from the camel as threatened. They did not.

“Tim, grab me a bandage.” Their posture relaxed. Tim hurried to the camel and Sylph’s gaze never left him. All their reactions were weird. If she was in their position, she would escape or fight. But not stand there and pretend this was normal. Maybe Elliot stepped out of line, even for someone of his persuasion. Her dragonheart kept pumping until Tim pulled out nothing but a roll of bandages.

Tim pulled up the ripped sleeve. Sylph could make out the marks of her teeth and the bloody grooves caused by him pulling away. She could still feel a dull throb in her gums after the strong pull. The wound bled heavily and formed a small river of blood that dripped into the sand. Tim wiped away the excess, and Elliot hissed through his teeth. He then wrapped the bandage tightly around the bite. They did not clean the wound, and she had not cleaned her teeth for days. He would get a nasty infection. She debated mentioning that fact. She would have done so for anybody else, but him? No, they could deal with their mistake on their own.

“I hope you punish her accordingly. Magic control is quite unbelievable,” Elliot sneered. If there was any doubt about his disbelief, it was now pretty obvious.

“What did you think would happen if you laid your hands on a bodyguard? The fact that you missed all hints of body language makes me doubt your credibility. She is not an art piece, but a guard and fighter, as you noticed.” Brandon turned around, shoulders still squared. “And if you don’t believe me, why don’t you try for yourself?” Brandon dared. “Sylph, do whatever he tells you to unless I tell you otherwise.”

She shot him a glance. Doing what Brandon said was one thing, but giving that control to Elliot? Who knew what ideas he would get. Judging by their sheer incompetence so far, there was probably no danger, and if that helped their thinning disguise, then so be it.

A nightmarish grin formed beneath the mask of pain on Elliot’s face. He stood far too calm for a man bleeding heavily through his bandages. Even after being bit, he seemed utterly unaware of what danger they were in, as though he could snap his finger and suddenly she was no threat.

“Close your eyes.” She gave Brandon a last look. He gave a brief nod, and she closed her eyes. Feet shifted on the ground in uneasy movements. Elliot’s lips smacked together as he talked, as though he tasted every sick command he gave. Sylph followed what he said, twisted, jumped and stuck out her tongue exactly as he demanded. If she did not focus on the situation, this was a bit like the child’s game “King’s command”. Only this king was in constant danger of getting his face bit off if he went too far.

“Lay on your back,” Elliot commanded. Sylph froze. No dragon would willingly do that. She debated it with herself as she laid down on her stomach. Would it be easier to take them hostage and force them to show the way to the city? Sylph felt sick to the bone as she rolled onto her back.

Completely defenseless and thoroughly ashamed, she covered herself with her tail. If that was not enough to convince him of the imaginary magic control, nothing would.

“I think that is more than enough,” Brandon interrupted before Elliot could continue. “Get back up.”

Sylph did as expected and took back her place, walking behind Brandon as they continued onward. Although their continued small talk seemed pretty forced.

“So, what do you trade?” Brandon turned the conversation around and nodded to the bags slung over the camel.

Elliot still eyed Sylph, his good hand on his beard once again. “Dragon eggs,” he stated, as if they were sacks of potatoes. Sylph froze mid-step and a tight grip held her throat. She had noticed the slight oval shape before. That could be eggs. Unborn hatchlings like her, stolen and taken from their families. They would suffer her fate.

The desert heat pressed down on her mind. She could save them right now. They could not stop her. She stared down at her claws, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. But it would achieve nothing. They would be stuck with a bunch of eggs in the desert. As harsh as it was and as bad as it felt, for now, they would have to remain where they were.

Brandon snipped his fingers. “Then you are exactly the man I’m looking for.”