Later that day, they bathed. It was something they often did, unless Miss Vora was late when teaching the princess.

Miss Vora washed her wings and tail for her every night, but it felt…different, this time. Her caresses were always pleasant, and relaxed Xyra to the point of sleepiness, but her gentleness now was such as to cause other feelings. She tickled with her fingers, traced long lines among the webbing and along the bones of her wings, and even ventured to her stomach and sides. By then she had come off her fingers and instead used the soft flats of her hands. Xyra thought it strange how humans could survive with no scales to protect them.

It didn’t take long for Xyra to be overwhelmed. These sensations were new and warmed her body to the point that she feared for Miss Vora’s safety. With a sigh, she leaned back into the familiar softness that was Miss Vora’s chest, ever present at her back, but now a rest for her head as she slipped limply into the water. Helpless. What was Miss Vora doing to her? She wanted to ask, but the words disappeared before she could speak them. If she were capable of speaking, she would tell Miss Vora to not go to places that she shouldn’t, but Miss Vora seemed aware of that already. Her hands never strayed too far above or below Xyra’s stomach, nor did they slip too far inward on her thighs.

And Xyra was glad for that, because she was sure that any newer feelings would cause her to burst and die.

Eventually, Miss Vora’s caresses stopped. Xyra almost whined when freed of the constant touch of her hands and opened her eyes to see the reason for the end. What she saw was a face full of worry, framed by hair let loose from its braids.

“You look worried,” Xyra said, with her words again working.

“I am. Are you sure that you’ve not seen Volsten at all in the market? Or perhaps around Honor?”

Xyra shook her head. And it wasn’t for a lack of trying, either. She’d looked high and low for a tall, yellow-haired man. There weren’t many of those, and of those few, none resembled Volsten at all. “I’ve tried, Miss Vora.”

“I know you have, dear. The problem you’ve run into is that the man treats Honor-his home-as if it makes him sick.”

Xyra couldn't blame him for that. “The people here are very rigid. I feel like they don’t like each other.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Miss Vora said with a laugh. “But I don’t give an ass about that. People see Volsten as a member of this house. Gallivanting around in Outer with those whores and wenches he’s so fond of reflects poorly on me.”

“But what if he loves them?” Xyra asked, shifting in the clear waters of the bath. It still felt as if Miss Vora’s hands danced on her skin.

“You don’t know him at all, you pretty thing. I’m probably the person he loves most of all, but I know he’d throw me away for my weight in crowns. The chances of him being in true, honest love with one of those women?” Miss Vora flicked a bit of water.

Xyra believed that, given that her first hours with Volsten ended with him wanting to sell her.

“Truth is,” Miss Vora carried on, “that’s why I’m worried. Thousands of crowns, yet he hasn’t come running back to kiss my feet. Something awful must have happened.”

*

By the time Xyra woke, Miss Vora had left for the tower. Xyra was sure of it, because when she entered the dining room for breakfast, she was nowhere to be found. There was but one plate, topped with sweetened bread and jam, with a few slices of apple next to it.

Xyra’s mouth watered at the sight. She sat, making peace with a lonely breakfast, when the kitchen door swung open. Netti and Igna stepped from within, carrying plates of their own. They were deep in conversation (it was more an argument; they did that a lot) and paid her no attention until they were right upon the table. Even then, it was bare. A slight pause, before they sat down and continued.

Sometime later, Kita walked in, a smile on her face. Unlike the others, she noticed Xyra immediately. Her plate nearly fell as she dashed back into the kitchen.

“By the goddess, what a scared little child,” Igna remarked.

Netti nodded in agreement, his mouth full of some sort of meat. Xyra shuddered as she popped a piece of bread into her mouth.

“She’s still so scared of me,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing much you can do, I’m afraid,” Igna said. “If the lady’s word isn’t good enough for her, or the fact that you’ve yet to tear her to pieces, then nothing is.”

Xyra took some comfort in that. Netti and Igna, while still being somewhat wary, had been rather nice to her. And she liked that Igna’s hair looked like an upside-down bowl. “Should I wear the ring more? Miss Vora doesn’t like it, but it might help Kita to not be afraid of me.”

Netti smacked his lips. “Nah. Consider that she already knows you’re a dragon. She’s not stupid, just scared. And, I mean, I would be too if-“

A piece of bread smacked Netti in the nose. He looked devastated, though it couldn’t have hurt that much.

“Shut up!” Igna demanded. “Xyra, has Miss Vora told you much about Kita?”

Xyra shook her head. “Well, she’s told me about her home. It sounds like a strange place.”

“Nothing about…incidents, in her past?”

“I don't think so.”

“Then it isn’t our place to tell you, if the lady hasn’t. Right, bald boy?”

“You might be right, Igna,” Netti said, wiping butter from his nose, “but I dare you to throw another piece of my own bread at me. You’ve never had respect for something you didn’t create!”

Netti and Igna began their argument anew, but it was just noise to Xyra. Her mind was on Kita, and what could have made her so afraid. She would have to ask Miss Vora when she returned.

And…and something annoyed her. If everyone else knew, then Miss Vora was keeping it from her and her alone. It was easy for her to wonder why that was.

She spent the rest of her breakfast wondering, though not so far into her mind to not enjoy the deliciousness of the bread and sliced apples. When finished, she excused herself from the table. The two cooks were as they were when first they entered, barely noting her leave with a slight nod.

What was she to do today? Training with Miss Vora would come, but not for some time. The study was always open to her, and though she did look at many of what Miss Vora called books, she spent much of her time within it looking for a map. If it was anywhere at all, it would have to be there, among the endless papers. But, if it truly was, she had yet to find it. She’d sifted through most of them, and not a one of them looked to be a map. She was beginning to think that Miss Vora was right, and that there were no maps of her homeland.

Xyra’s stomach tightened. That couldn’t be true. Someone, anyone, had to have it. Or…or else she’d be here. Forever.

“Lady…Lady Xyra?”

She turned to see who had called. The voice was familiar, yet not in the way that Netti and Igna’s was.

It was Heron, clad in his armor. Light yellow, different from all the other guards Xyra had seen.

“Oh…Heron? Y-yes?” Xyra tried to address him in the way Miss Vora told her to, with authority. As a princess, it should have come naturally, but Xyra was nothing else if not a strange dragon. For better or worse.

“The Lord Zevin Tallows is outside. And, oddly, he’s asked for you.”

Xyra’s tail made a great slapping sound on the floor. “R-really? What does he want?”

“I’ve no idea,” Heron shrugged, as much as his armor would allow him to. “But he asked for you in very flowery words.”

She thought back to Miss Vora. She’d done as Zevin wanted and told her of the help he’d given that day. Miss Vora said to kick him between the legs next time, with all her dragon strength.

But why would she do that? Miss Vora was mean at times, and Xyra didn’t like it. Zevin had only helped her, and as far as she was concerned, was a nice man.

She walked right up to Heron, who took a small step backwards. Small, but it did not go unnoticed in Xyra’s heart. “Can you take me to him?”

Heron, a good bit taller than she was, looked down through his helmet. “Of course, but as Lynette, correct? He asked for a Lynette.”

Xyra blinked at the guard, confused as to what he could mean. “I’m Lynette...”

“Yes, but you look to be more of a Xyra.”

Making the connection, Xyra asked for him to wait and scurried up the stairs to her room, where she flipped open the little box that contained the ring and placed it on her finger. As usual she felt no difference, but she knew that ‘Xyra’ was gone, pushed out of sight as the human Lynette made her appearance. When she approached Heron this time, he didn’t step away. He only nodded, then led her through the halls and out of the manor’s entrance.

She stepped out into the courtyard and was blasted with bright morning sun. Covering her eyes until they could better handle the light, she looked up to see Zevin, dressed much the same as he was when they first met.

Her gaze drifted over him to the thing he stood next to. Though not the first time she’d seen something like it, its name wasn’t known to her. Two horses were attached to it in the front, their coats a sleek brown, and it sat on four large wheels. It struck as both silly and beautiful.

Heron led her farther, past the flowers that she always stopped to look at on her way back to the manor. “Wonder where he’s taking you in such a fancy carriage.”

Xyra was on the cusp of speaking, but sneezed instead. She sniffled; her dragon nose was awash with Zevin’s scent, though she was still in the middle of the courtyard. This wasn’t the same scent as the other day, for though that one was just as strong, it didn’t irritate her like this one.

She sneezed another three times before she was out of the gate and sneezed twice again in the few steps it took to reach Zevin. When she stopped, she sneezed.

“Blessings of the goddess on you, Lynette,” Zevin said, finally taking notice of her. He adjusted the purple sash that wrapped around his chest. “Heron says that-“

Xyra sneezed.

Zevin waited a moment. “Heron says that the Lady Vora is absent. I don’t believe him, for obvious reasons, so I will ask you instead. Is the lady home?”

Xyra sniffled. “He’s-he’s right.” Xyra sneezed.

Again Zevin paused, but this time he looked annoyed. “Ah. Surely you told her of my deed that day?”

“Yes, and she was very-ahhh-very…” Xyra didn’t want to lie, but she had the feeling that Zevin wouldn’t like the truth.

“No matter, then.” He pushed himself from the carriage, then placed a hand on her shoulder. Xyra responded by sneezing on his arm.

He jerked it back, staring dumbfounded at the little wet spots left on his sleeve. “Are you sick, woman? Why do you sneeze so much?”

“No, Zevin! I-I’m not!” she said after yet another one escaped.

“Then stop it! These clothes represent the majesty and elegance of my family’s name. I won’t have some servant spitting on them!”

Not wanting to offend him further, on the next tilt of her head Xyra clenched with all her might. The awful feeling that came with it was secondary to the heat that creeped up her throat.

She panicked. This was going to kill Zevin, but it was inevitable; there was no more to stopping this than there was to stopping her heart from taking its next beat. At the last moment, she turned her head to the side. A bright wave of orange light illuminated the carriage. The horses, once calm, jittered into a frenzy. They took off despite the “Hey!” from the man atop.

Zevin spun on his heels and shouted “Arbaso, you fool! Where are you taking my carriage?”

Xyra held her pose, scared that any movement now would reveal her for what she was. Out of the corner of a teary eye, she watched Zevin. He was angry but didn’t seem to notice that she had breathed fire.

Down the street, the man known as Arbaso regained control of the horses and brought them around again, trotting down the blue path at a pace Zevin couldn't have been happy with.

Xyra's heart ceased its thumping. I'm never doing that again!

Zevin looked away from the returning horses and at Xyra. No, not at her-over. “Guard, tell the lady that in her stead I will be borrowing her servant. And if she has an issue with it, that I personally invite her to my home so that she may air her grievances.”

“Where”-she stopped and sneezed, to which Zevin threw his hands up in annoyance-“are we going, Zevin?”

“Does it matter?” Zevin’s face said that she’d somehow offended him. “We could go anywhere, and I’m sure you’d be impressed. The simple elegance of a Tallows carriage is more than Volsten could ever provide.”