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Alys didn't know how long they'd been flying when a sudden change in the angle of the wind roused her from the light doze she'd fallen into. She rubbed her eyes and scanned their surroundings. Yes, there was no mistake about it; up until now they'd been following the wavering silver thread of the river below them, but now Selendrile had veered, taking them toward the east.
She couldn't understand what had made him change course, until a few minutes later, squinting, she made out a speck in the distance. As the speck neared, the graceful body and powerful wings became visible. Another dragon. Selendrile must have seen it before she had—of course his eyesight would be better than hers, she thought with a sigh.
As the distance between them shrank, Alys began to worry. Below, she could still see the river, though they must be miles to the east now. She guessed that Selendrile didn't want to change their course too drastically, or they would lose time to—wherever they were going. But if Selendrile had seen the other dragon, could it see them? Were they in danger? She didn't fancy the idea of being caught in the middle of a dragon fight in mid-air, or being snatched away by another dragon who thought she would make a tasty snack. Her grip on Selendrile's claws tightened, but she didn't know if he could even feel the difference. She would just have to trust him to fly them both safely.
As the other dragon flew past without seeming to notice them, Alys felt the tension begin to leave her body. Despite her fear, she couldn't help but admire the creature as it soared through the sky. At this distance, all she could see were gleaming black scales and faint wisps of a midnight-colored mane. The stories about dragons always dwelled on their fierce claws, their cruel teeth, but watching the dragon fly by with powerful, steady beats of its wings, all Alys could think of was that it looked graceful, even majestic.
They flew for what she guessed to be a few more hours, until the sun started to dip below the horizon. In the fading light, Selendrile took them down towards a clearing in the trees, folding his wings close to his body and spiraling lower and lower until they came to a landing.
Once on the ground, Alys took a minute to shake out her arms and legs, cramped from long hours of flying, letting the bundle of clothes she'd been carrying drop. Behind her, Selendrile changed into human shape and quickly dressed while she looked away.
Through the trees, she could make out spots of light that must be lanterns—the town they were heading to for the night, she guessed.
"Why did you avoid that other dragon earlier?" Alys asked, as they were walking. "Would it have attacked us?"
Selendrile narrowed his eyes, and didn't seem inclined to answer.
"Don't dragons like each other?" Alys pressed.
"And how would I explain what I was doing traveling with a human?" Selendrile said, sounding irritated. "It's almost as if you want to be someone's dinner."
Alys opened her mouth to offer a retort, but by then they had reached the edge of the town and Selendrile motioned for her to be quiet. She huffed, but complied. The last thing they wanted to do was announce that a dragon had just arrived in town.
Selendrile took them to a small inn; a sign showing a wooden horse hung over the door, but there was no name Alys could see. Selendrile pushed the door open and they went inside; immediately, Alys's senses detected the warmth of the fire, the murmur of voices, and the rich scent of stew.
A man appeared, wiping his hands on a rag; Alys guessed he must be the innkeeper. He said something to them, and Alys realized with a shock that she couldn't understand a word of it. They'd been flying for several days, and while she'd seen the ocean beneath them—she'd realized that they couldn't possibly be in England anymore—somehow she hadn't really believed it until the innkeeper had opened his mouth.
She was even more surprised when Selendrile responded, without hesitation, in the same language. It had never occurred to her that he might be able to speak other human languages besides English. She tried to keep her expression neutral, not letting her surprise show. Selendrile and the man spoke briefly, then Selendrile handed him some coins. She felt a stab of alarm when the innkeeper gestured towards her and seemed to be asking a question, but Selendrile only said something in response which made him chuckle. He nudged Selendrile in the ribs conspiratorially before signalling to a girl wiping tables, who stole a glance at the two of them as she followed the man out of the room.
"What did you say to him?" Alys looked at Selendrile suspiciously.
"I said that you were my wife, and that you didn't speak French."
Alys gaped. "What? Why did you say that?"
"Well, you don't, do you?"
Alys made a frustrated noise. "No! I mean the wife part. Couldn't you have said I was your sister or something?"
Selendrile shook his head. "Look at those men by the fireplace," he murmured to her. "They've been eyeing you since we entered. They'll be more likely to leave you alone if they think you have a jealous husband."
Alys dared a glance over her shoulder; a group of rough-looking men were sitting in the corner smoking pipes and laying bets on a dice game. Though their faces were cloaked in shadows, Alys could see that some of them were looking at her and talking quietly amongst themselves.
She shivered, and tried not to squirm too obviously as Selendrile put his arm around her waist and pulled her close.
"I should have dressed as a boy again," she muttered. "We could have gone as brothers."
Selendrile arched his eyebrows at her. "Do you really think most of these men would pay any less attention to a pretty boy than to a pretty girl?"
Alys didn't understand for a moment; then her eyes got wide, and her cheeks flushed. He couldn't really mean—could he? And—had he called her pretty?
She was still sputtering when the innkeeper returned and offered them something to eat; she hadn't even thought of being hungry until that moment, but suddenly, the smell of food made her mouth water.
They sat down at an empty table; the girl they'd seen before brought them stew and bread, and mugs of lukewarm ale. As usual, Selendrile didn't touch any of his food; chin in hand, he seemed to be listening half-heartedly to the group sitting at the table next to them. One man, who appeared to have consumed rather a lot of the inn's ale, was talking loudly to those gathered around him. Alys couldn't understand a word, but she guessed he was recounting a story. One or two young women hung on his every word, gasping at the most exciting parts, while the man's friends occasionally laughed and jostled him with their elbows. Glancing at Selendrile, Alys caught a spark of amusement in his eyes.
"What is he saying?" she asked quietly.
"Ah—he's regaling his comrades with the tale of how he single-handedly rescued a noblewoman from a villainous dragon who had kidnapped her."
Alys arched her eyebrows skeptically. "That sounds like the kind of story my father would tell me before bed," she said. "The brave knight kills the dragon, and—" She stopped, and flushed, remembering who she was talking to. But Selendrile still looked amused, rather than offended.
"Apparently," he said, "the noblewoman was so grateful to him for slaying the dragon that she offered him both her money and her virtue."
Alys choked on her ale. That definitely hadn't been in the stories her father had told her.
The girl showed them to their room after she finished eating. And then there was a problem: naturally, there was only one bed. It was nearly twice as large as what she was used to, but there was no way— She turned around, meaning to call the girl back, though she didn't know what she would say.
But Selendrile was already kneeling to take off his boots, and stretching out on the floor next to the bed. He rested his head on his hands, fingers laced together. Alys paused, feeling strangely uncomfortable.
"You can't—" she started. "I mean, there's only one blanket."
He shook his head. "I'm not cold." And yes, she supposed he would say something about how his body wasn't as prone to discomfort as hers, but it still felt odd, leaving him to sleep on the floor. She tried again.
"It's a large bed," she said awkwardly. "We could—"
"Alys," he said, cutting her off. "Go to sleep."
Alys swallowed, crawling under the blankets. She rolled onto her side, blowing out the candle and plunging the room into near-total darkness; only a faint glow of moonlight shone through the room's small window. Alys settled on her back, trying to get comfortable. Voices and the sounds from the kitchen drifted up from below; some of the patrons were still talking and drinking. She began to think again of the stories her father used to tell her when she was a child, to help her to sleep.
"Do dragons have stories?" she wondered aloud, into the darkness.
Selendrile snorted. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed at being woken, or at the question. Maybe both. "Naturally."
There was silence for a long time after that. Alys assumed that was all she was going to get out of him, and she began to drift off.
Suddenly, Selendrile's voice came out of the darkness, rousing her. "There's even another version of that story," he said.
It took her a moment to understand that he meant the story they'd heard earlier, at dinner, and then her curiosity quickly overcame her tiredness. "What is it?"
Selendrile began to speak; with her eyes staring into the blackness of the room, unable to see anything, the low, steady thread of his voice was almost hypnotic. She felt as if she were floating, hovering between waking and sleeping.
"Once upon a time, a dragon fell in love with a human girl, and she loved him, too. They lived happily together for a year, far away from either humans or dragons. But one day, a prince who was out hunting in the woods came across their home, and he saw the dragon in his true form. He also saw the beautiful human girl, and decided to take her for his wife. The next day, he returned with a party of men. They killed the dragon, and they took the girl, who was so heartbroken that she took her own life."
Alys was silent. She would never have imagined the story happening that way. Part of her mind rebelled; no, it was impossible. But if she'd learned anything since she met Selendrile, it was that appearances could be deceiving. Could the truth change so much simply depending on how you looked at it?
"Do you believe it?" she asked finally. "That a dragon could fall in love with a human, I mean."
When Selendrile answered, she could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "It's a story," he said.
That's not an answer, she wanted to say. But already her eyelids were growing heavy, and when she opened her mouth all that came out was a yawn. Maybe she'd ask him about it another night. Or maybe he'd tell her another dragon story.
Yes, she thought as she drifted off, I'd like that.
She slept, and dreamed of the girl and the dragon.