Chapter 28 How To Reason with a Dragon.
Bella
“You can’t just go around imprinting on people like they’re stray pets,” I blurt, throwing my hands up.
It comes out louder than I mean it to, echoing across the roof and probably out into the night. My heart is still trying to decide whether to melt, break, or sprint right off the edge of the castle. He doesn’t answer immediately, but when he does, the voice that rolls out next is not his. I can hear the difference in the tone, the weight of it, the deep rumble that seems to come from somewhere beneath the world itself. It vibrates through my ribs and curls against my skin like invisible smoke.
“It was not my choice to imprint,” the dragon says through him, its low and calm, almost as if he's pleased with himself. “But it happened nonetheless. And I am happy. You are my snowflake, and we will treasure you, worship you, and treat you well.”
I blink. “You could start by getting me off this damn roof if you want to treat me well.”
There’s a pause—like I’ve just told a god to fetch me a glass of water. And then I see it: the faint flicker across his face, the shift, the air rippling as Damien takes back control. The heat in the air cools. The fire in his eyes dims. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, still holding his… bits… with one hand because modesty has apparently decided to arrive late to the party.
He clears his throat, and when he finally speaks, his voice is softer, almost human again. “I can do that,” he says. “But would you mind… coming inside? So that we may talk a little more?”
There’s an awkward hesitation to the way he says it, like he’s not used to asking for things, especially not gently...And somehow, I understand that. I know what it’s like to forget how to talk to people. To be alone so long that words start feeling foreign. I know how it feels to be trapped in something that isn’t your fault. After all, I’m the girl who was locked in the tower.
So I nod. “Alright. I’ll come inside with you.”
He looks almost startled by my answer, as if he expected another argument. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth lift. The smile that breaks across his face looks like it’s been buried for years. It’s awkward, unsure, but so beautiful.
“Good,” he murmurs, more to himself than me.
And then he steps back. The air shivers. The fire returns—not burning, but alive. The sound of it hums through the world as his shape bends, fractures, and rebuilds. Scales bloom over skin, wings unfurl, the night fills with gold and black and thunder. In the space of a heartbeat, he’s no longer a man but the creature from stories. Massive, terrible, magnificent. And he’s purring. Actually purring. Like a cat the size of a cathedral. He lowers his head, slow and deliberate, until the massive crown of his snout dips level with my knees. One clawed hand opens, palm up, the talons gleaming like obsidian in the moonlight. He’s...bowing?
I can’t help it. I laugh. I giggle—an honest, startled sound that feels ridiculous against the roar of the wind.
“Well,” I whisper, “guess I’ve had worse transport options.”
Gilfred, who’s been hiding somewhere in my hair this entire time, peeks out and makes a tiny, indignant chirp. His little lizard face practically screams, what the hell is our life?
“I don’t know, buddy,” I murmur, stepping forward. “But I think it’s about to get really, really interesting.”
I climb into the dragon’s palm. His scales are warm beneath my hands, smooth and alive, humming faintly with magic. The claws curl in just enough to shield me from the wind. He rumbles once, very pleased with himself as his wings spread wide. The moment they catch the air, I let out a startled little yip that turns into a half-screech, half-laugh as we rise higher, higher, until the world below becomes nothing but dark shapes and gold light. The wind lashes through my hair, stealing my breath and replacing it with exhilaration.
“Okay!” I shout over the wind, clutching at the ridges of his scales. “I take it back! You make a very good transport option!”
The dragon’s answering rumble shakes through his chest, a deep sound that feels suspiciously like a laugh. His claws tighten slightly around me—not enough to frighten, just enough to let me know he’s listening—and then, without warning, he flips. Completely.
One moment, the sky is above me, the next it’s below, and I scream and laugh and scream again, the sound whipping away into the night as the world spins. Gilfred burrows deeper into my collar with a horrified chirp. When we level out again, I can’t stop laughing. My stomach hurts, my hair’s a mess, my eyes sting from the wind, but I can’t stop. The dragon hums beneath me, pleased, preening almost, his wings carving clean lines through the clouds. For a moment, I almost forget everything—the tower, the sea, the siren, even the fact that I’m technically sitting in the palm of a massive mythical creature who may or may not have just claimed me as his eternal soulmate. For the first time in a long time, I feel weightless.
When he finally dips lower, the ground rushes up to meet us. The landing is smoother than it has any right to be—barely a thump as his claws touch the earth. I climb down slowly, knees shaky, heart still hammering from the flight.
“That was—” I start, then stop, trying to find a word big enough. “—insane. But in a good way.”
I grin up at him, still breathless, until something cold brushes my cheek. At first, it’s gentle, soft flakes catching in my hair. Then it's heavier and thicker. The air around me grows sharp and white.
“Oh no,” I whisper, glancing down.
The ground beneath my feet glitters, frost spiralling outward from my shoes like a spreading starburst. The snow thickens, swirling faster as I lose control.
“I—oh gods, I’m sorry,” I stammer, waving my hands like I can shoo it away. “I didn’t mean to, I just—sometimes when I get excited—oh, this is bad, this is so bad—”
The dragon doesn’t move. He watches me, head tilted slightly, golden eyes steady.
“I can’t help it,” I blurt, panic rising with the frost. “Please don’t be mad, I—”
His chest expands, and then he releases a great breath of warmth. It rolls over me, wrapping around my skin. The snow catches in the heat, melting instantly, as water droplets glitter and fall. The ice beneath my feet cracks, fades into nothing—only damp earth. The dragon exhales again, and his eyes meet mine, molten and impossibly gentle. My pulse stutters as realisation dawns on me that my power can’t hurt him. Where others would run, he breathes me back into balance. He lowers his head, close enough that I can see my reflection in his eyes, and I start to wonder if maybe—just maybe—I didn’t fall into this story by accident.