The Dream Keeper's Dragon

2.3 I'm Not the Enemy

Dew covered the window. Aurelie sat wrapped inside a thin blanket that had been folded on top of one of the couches. Her toes and her cheeks were chilly. She couldn't remember the last time she felt cold.

The window looked out on tall and compact houses. They were bricked and thin, built one next to the other

No wonder Nick ran in that night. She was surprised that an army hadn't come running. The whole street must have wondered who was being murdered in Donahue's house. Yet, no one came knocking on the door to see the dragon.

Nick called her princess so he knew exactly who she was. Though, after she drank fire and grew scales, it wouldn't have taken a genius to guess who she was. Not even in Redayrah. Strangely, he either kept the information or himself or no one gave a damn that she was there.

Busy feet scurried up and down toward the center of the town for work and entertainment. She'd seen four of them in the last ten minutes. The roads were paved and spotless. There was hardly any greenery apart from the occasional flower pot on a balcony or a window. It looked quite gloomy but, at the same time, cozy.

She was still staring out when Nick entered the house with a large, black bag hanging over his shoulder.

"Morning," he said and dropped the bag on the dinner table, pushing books out of the way. "Still no change?" His head flicked toward Kirin.

Aurelie sighed and shook her head. She sat by his side, and whispered into his ear every day, making sure that he knew she was there. He looked sickly and pale, his collarbone was becoming more and more pronounced and his breathing was so shallow that Aurelie had to look at his chest every few minutes to make sure that it still rose and fell.

Donahue didn't help much either, not while she was conscious, at least. She had to pretend she dozed off so that he could pick Kirin up and give him a bath, or whatever he did with him when he carried him away. It didn't look like it was helping, but the Donahues were all shadow walkers, so she somewhat trusted his judgment enough not to take over completely at the risk of him stopping whatever it was that he was doing. This way, at least, Kirin was clean.

"Don't worry," Nick said, removing a few brown paper bags that were darkened with oil. "Peter said that he was going to be fine. No change means that he's not getting worse. So there's that. Here, I brought you some food." He handed her a bag.

"Does he speak to you a lot? I have to look asleep before he comes near Kirin." Aurelie's mouth watered and her stomach twirled with anticipation. That bag had better contain pastries. "I've tried asking him but he won't tell me a damn thing."

"That's because he thinks you've angered the gods. Well, one in particular," Nick said and bent over a chair, picked up Donahue's dirty clothes, and threw it to the far end of the small dining table. "Your scales didn't help."

Aurelie traced her finger over her scales. The hardened surface made her cringe on the spot. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she lifted her fingers. The skin where the scales had come out of had healed by now and stuck itself onto their surface, hardening like sap. At times, Aurelie forgot that they even existed but then her dress would catch on a sharp edge and she'd have to pry the material loose. The creeped her out, to say the least, but by the looks of things, they weren't going anywhere so she just had to deal with them like she dealt with everything else—make a fuss, complain and then quiet down and get used to it!

"Does everyone in Redayrah worship them as he does?" Aurelie ripped at the bag. It was hot and hit her with a strong scent of sugary cinnamon. The pastry's thick doe twirled from the center out and dripped with white glaze.