At the top of Miss Vora’s home, there was a garden.

Xyra knew not because of Miss Vora or her servants, but because she’d stumbled upon it one day. It was hard to become familiar with Miss Vora’s home, and even after weeks of staying, she still became horribly lost at times.

From where Xyra entered, there was shade, a wall with a door leading from the inside. A wall also stood on the garden’s left and right. That was why she could never see it when she returned from buying her fruits and vegetables. On that side, it looked like more roof. But the garden itself was open to the air, catching as much sky as the huge tower it faced would allow. A narrow stone path led from the door, cutting a straight line through blue and yellow flowers that Xyra didn’t know the name of. The path ended near a small opening of stone, encircled by more flowers, a wooden bench sitting at its heart.

When she first stumbled upon it, frantically searching for someone to guide her back to where she belonged, her heart skipped. For as beautiful as the city was, Xyra found herself sad and dull. She missed with all her soul the beauty of flowers and trees, the smell of leaves and pine needles carried on the wind. There were places of green in Tregar, with pretty little ponds and small trees, but she couldn’t enjoy them. They were too…open? Yes, that was it. She didn’t know why, but she felt watched at every turn. Miss Vora’s assurances were often and sincere, but that didn’t help. Her tail and wings and horns and scales were all there, hidden, but she knew people could see them. She just knew it!

“A woman needs time to herself”, Yarla had told her one day. She was the oldest of Miss Vora’s servants, Xyra had learned, and even served Miss Vora’s grandparents. Now she did little more than tend the garden and sleep. She told her that the garden didn’t exist until after Miss Vora’s parents had died. Before then, it had simply been a room that Volsten and Miss Vora escaped into when they found guests too boring.

Xyra was sad after that. Miss Vora still looked quite young. It must have been very hard to have lost her parents so soon. Xyra didn’t know what she would do if mother and father died. Besides be in charge of her people, that is, but the thought made her skin crawl. Magenia would make a better queen, and there were times where she already acted like one. Tradition was tradition, however, and when the time came…

“Oh, look at my little dragon!” Miss Vora said.

Xyra jumped and pulled a flower free of its bedding. There was resistance, but her dragon strength was too much for its roots to handle.

A moment later Miss Vora was next to her, smiling brightly under the light of the moon. She looked ready for bed, but still she was pretty, and smelling of soap.

Xyra’s face was hot as she stared at the flower in her hand. “I’m sorry, Miss Vora…”

Miss Vora’s slender fingers plucked it from her grasp. “Oh, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.” She pressed the flower to her nose. “Do you know the name of this flower?”

“No, Miss Vora.”

“Ugh, I’m silly. Of course not. It’s Valleyrod. Very pleasant smell, but not strong, and only found in the Valley of Nisva.” Miss Vora walked down the path until she stood before the bench, her white gown flowing just above her ankles. She smoothed it before taking a seat.

Xyra stood where she was. She imagined sitting next to her in the moonlight, but Yarla’s words walled her off. Maybe Miss Vora wanted to be alone now, to relax herself before she slept for the night.

But she looked so lonely facing the tower by herself, silhouetted against its glow.

“Won’t you join me, Xyra?” Miss Vora asked softly.

Her heart leapt as she scurried with bare feet to the bench. She first meant to sit on the opposite side, but Miss Vora gently patted the space right next to her.

“Still wary of me?” Miss Vora asked as Xyra scooted herself closer.

“No, I just didn’t think you wanted me so close…”

Miss Vora twirled the Valleyrod between her fingers. “I’ve more to fear from this flower than you, Xyra. I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Xyra smiled, but a thought forced the corners of her mouth down again. “The others don’t feel the same. They still hate me.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Miss Vora said. “It’s fear, dear. My servants are wonderful, but they’re of lesser blood. Superstition runs wild with them.”

“The one girl,” Xyra said, staring at her clawed hands resting in her lap, “Kita-she goes the other way when we’re in the same hall. She looks too terrified to even walk!”

Miss Vora released a deep, groaning sigh. “Of course. What are scary stories to others are real to her.”

Xyra’s ear twitched. She looked up at the blazing tower, then to Miss Vora. “What do you mean, Miss Vora?”

“Nothing.” Miss Vora scrunched her lips towards her nose. “How do you like it here? Aside from their scary demeanors, have they treated you well?”

“Yes!” Xyra nodded. “They’re kind to me. Netti and Igna always offer me something sweet. Yarla…sleeps. A lot. But she likes to talk with me when I see her!”

“So I take it that you love it here, then?” Miss Vora asked.

Xyra’s lips pressed together as she thought. “I do like it here, Miss Vora,” she said carefully. It wasn’t a lie.

Miss Vora shifted next to her, and Xyra felt a warm touch on her bare back. Her wings didn’t fit in Miss Vora’s clothes, so Miss Vora had dresses and gowns made for her. They were open in the back, with a thin string that tied around her neck to hold them up. Xyra found them pretty, but when she first put them on, Miss Vora laughed and said that more than a few eyes would be drawn. She didn’t know what that meant.

“That makes me happier than you can imagine,” Miss Vora said. The hand caressed where Xyra’s right wing met her body. She shivered at its touch. Partly because that area was still sore, and partly because it was rare for any dragon to be touched there. It was relaxing. So much so that she found her eyes heavier than usual…

“Goddess, Xyra,” Miss Vora whispered.

Xyra’s eyes opened again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. But to think that I’d be in this position is incredible.” She looked from Xyra to the night sky, full of tiny lights. “As a little girl, I always dreamt of having a dragon. Mother was fascinated with your people, and I suppose that rubbed off on me.”

Mother. Xyra thought back, to when her sister was no taller than a little tree stump, and the queen would tell stories to both of them. The remembrance made her think of warm, colorful times when the air smelled fresh, and the cave’s entrance led to the wonders of unknown forest. Home. She didn’t know how far away it was from this strange place, but it felt like worlds.

“Strange,” Miss Vora said. Her voice wasn’t its usual strong, commanding self. “It’s been years since I’ve seen them. It’s quite easy to forget the pain if one lets it sit in a ready-made corner. I can think past it, and not worry about its presence. But on somedays, and when speaking about it, just as I am now, I lose them again.” The gentle caress ended as Miss Vora struggled to finish.

Xyra had taken to watching the tower, but she pulled her eyes from its circling blocks to peer at Miss Vora. Droplets of water snaked their way down her cheek, and the hand she withdrew was cupped tightly across her mouth.

She’s crying! There was no hesitation as she reached for Miss Vora. Soon her arms were wrapped about the woman in a tight hug, her face buried snugly in her chest. She smells so nice! “Don’t cry, Miss Vora!”

Miss Vora’s body shook against her. “What did you say, dear?” she half-asked, half-laughed. “You’re a little muffled.”

Xyra angled her head back until her chin rested on Miss Vora’s chest. “I said don’t cry!”

“Oh, look at you…” Miss Vora grinned through her tears. Her arms slipped around Xyra, right below her wings. “Trust me, dear, I’m fine. Just weak at times, that’s all,” she sniffed.

“I can sing for you, if you want…” Xyra didn’t know what else to offer. A long time ago, she used her voice to calm Magenia when she was upset. But Miss Vora wasn’t a little dragon. Perhaps she would hate it…

“Oh?” Miss Vora raised a thin eyebrow. “I suppose I should have known such a pretty creature would be able to sing. I’d love to hear it.”

Xyra stared into Miss Vora’s eager green eyes. The longer she stared, the less she wanted to sing. She buried her now hot face into Miss Vora’s soft chest again, as far as her horns would allow. “I can’t, Miss Vora,” she said, muffled once more.

“You say that you can’t?”

Xyra nodded against her. “I’m sorry…”

“That’s fine as well. I don’t need you to sing or even speak to me, Xyra. You simply being here brings me joy.”

Then, on the top of her forehead, between the horns, she felt what could only be-yet also couldn’t have been-a kiss.