The curtains parted to the faint whisper of wool. Jaimin cast a wary glance around the room. How was it the youngling still slept? So she truly did help Mara last night. And had fled upon discovering what she'd helped come into this world. He tempered the annoyance sparking at such recollection. Had no one thought to tell her? Of course not. No one wanted to tell her anything.
Jipp had wasted little time in informing the council that his half-breed child had turned out to be female. How strange to think the presence of a female who'd grown up knowing what she was would be considered as a boon. Pity they did not see how it would be better to return this dark-skinned youngling to her preferred human life rather than to force her into being what they needed.
But it would be eighteen years before the hatchling, named Jaaloun by her mother, would be able to aid in the survival of their species. Too long for the scaled ones to discover her presence and kill her. Such a pity. He would've preferred not going through with this farce they dared to call tutoring.
Jaimin stepped into the chamber, his boot tapping against a pail. It shuddered along the ground, metal base screeching on the stone and water sloshing over the rim. He scooped it up, placing it atop the cold stove. Hearing no sound of her stirring, he glanced over his shoulder to find she still slept. How odd. He couldn't recall any human ever sleeping so soundly.
Bending to the stove's grill, he quietly filled the dark belly with wood and, after a few false starts with the flint, coaxed the tinder into flame. Stepping up to the foot of the bed, the metal jingling on his boots loud against the backdrop of her breathing, Jaimin cleared his throat. The faster the youngling woke, the sooner he could return to the tunnels more accommodating to his true form.
Maayin sat up, sheets clutched to her breast, though from what he could see, she wore a night shift underneath the covers. She stared at him, chest heaving and her gorgeously dark eyes wide. Laiyn had never reacted so strongly to being woken so, not even when sharing the bed with his wife. Had he forgotten some human tradition? He should've enquired about the customs of those in the east.
"Peace youngling." Jaimin held up a hand, dropping it just as quickly when she flinched. I should've asked Mara to wake her. Or at least one of the other female knights. "The council has chosen me to instruct you in our ways."
"I want to leave." She drew her knees up, hugging them. "Please, take me home."
He sighed. "The council will not allow it." If it had been his choice, he would've returned her last night. Foolish Jipp. Did the runt not think of anything but his own desires?
A flicker of anger flared to life in her eyes. "You promised."
"On the condition that you prove you're only human." He'd never heard any account of the records being wrong, but that didn't mean they couldn't be. There was always the possibility that Maayin was an orphan from beyond the wastelands. Who had arrived at the right castle with Kahin and with the same name as the hatchling given into the knight's care. A slim chance was still a chance. It would be a disservice to her to not consider it no matter the odds.
"How can I possibly do that?"
"If you fail to attain a dragon form I will consider you as human." It shouldn't be too difficult to coax her magic back to life and return her to her natural form. Then she would no longer be able to deny being a dragon and the council would demand no more from him. And everything from her. The last fully dragon female in their possession and they plan use her like a thing.
"What will you do with me if I fail?"
"I –" While he hadn't asked what to do if she did fail, he'd a feeling Karoc would've given the same sentence as if she'd refused. "I ..." It would take less than four summers for her to grow resentful if they held her here. "I will see to it that you return to Byron's Peak." Jaimin leant forward, resting his hands on the end of the bed. "I swear on this by the very egg I hatched from, but you must attempt the task in earnest." How would he know if she truly did try her best? He'd yet to figure that one out. "Do we have an accord?"
She silently looked him over. "We do."
Feeling his face heat at the scrutiny, he lowered his gaze to the sheets under his hands. "If you would be so kind as to get out of bed, we can begin immediately." He waited for her agreement or the sound of her slipping from the covers. When only more silence greeted him, he risked a glance up to find she hadn't moved in the slightest.
She folded her arms, resting them on her knees. "Do I not get some privacy and a chance to bathe first?"
"Of course, dear lady." He waved a hand towards the stove. "Your bathing water has already been heated for you." Removing himself from the chamber, he pulled the curtain across the opening. Young women prefer bathing in private. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten that. I really should talk with Laiyn.
The tunnel below, despite its handful of people, felt eerily quiet. He could recall when this area had bustled with knights and their families. Most of them had gone now, the unknighted parents having long since left the dubious safety of the Hall, taking their children with them. Better to live without a mother or father than to have them disintegrate right before a child's eyes.
Leaning back against the wall, Jaimin listened to the sounds within the room. The sigh of Maayin leaving the bed, the pad of feet as she crossed the room. He winced at the not-so-gentle screech of metal on metal as she hauled the pail off the stove. The bucket was heavy on its own. I should've offered my assistance. Though he wasn't sure if she'd have accepted it. Laiyn always did say that women could be strange when it came to help and Maayin did act ... womanly.
Hearing splashing coming from the other side of the curtain, he risked a peek into the chamber. Spying no one in the immediate area, he slipped back into the room to the sound of humming. The very same tune he'd heard upon first meeting her. Its rich tone buzzed through the air, setting off an uncomfortable warmth in his gut.
Jaimin cast a weary glance about the room. Little different from any of the other knight's chamber in setup, even if it was one of the higher caverns. Only the thin, black shift lying on the bed showed that anyone was accommodating the area at all. His gaze settled on the metal panels screening off the corner. Memory of Laiyn's quarters told him there wasn't room for a bath and as small as she was, she couldn't fit in either pail or basin. So how much longer was the washing of herself going to take?
He sighed and turned his back on the screen lest she appear around it unclothed. Humans did have some strange customs. Pacing the length of the bed a few times, he sat down next to the rich, black gown. Had that been there before? He placed a hand on the skirts, feeling the thickness of the velvety layers slide under his fingers.
What had happened to the shift? He looked about the bed, finding not so much as a single shred of lace. Where had it come from in the first place? She'd left Byron's Peak with only the clothes she'd been wearing. Something very much like this dress and all of it as dark as an abandoned network of tunnels.
A flash of black appeared in the corner of his eye followed closely by a muffled squeak. He twisted just in time to see Maayin dive behind the screen.
"Is this your idea of privacy?"
"You are out of sight, are you not?" Jaimin picked up the dress. The skirts enveloped his hands, his fingers cradled the bodice, coiling round the subtle curves. Different to what she'd arrived in, yet it bore her scent. He draped it over the top of the panel, surprised when it was yanked out of his grip. A smile tweaked his lips at the hasty sounds of her donning the garment. "Where did you get the shift you were sleeping in?" he asked, sure of the answer he'd receive.
"It was on me when I woke." Her head poked round the side of the far panel, eyes hard as she glared up at him. "I don't take too kindly to being clothed in my sleep."
He chuckled. That small chance of the records being wrong was getting slimmer. "I assure you, no one did anything of the sort."
She wrinkled her nose at him and disappeared back round the screen again.
"When you are suitably dressed, I would like to show you something." The council would've recommended caution if they'd known of his decision, decrying it as being reckless and acting too fast. Even if they did want her to become a dragon as quickly as was possible. However he'd thought long on his task, spending most of the night weighing the consequences of each move. It chaffed to agree with them. There was little point in teaching her of their ways, only to discover they'd been wrong. He could not leave the testing until later like he'd have preferred. It would undeniably be a shock for her, but surely she was strong enough to manage it. At least, he hoped she'd the strength.
"And just what would that be?" The chill in her voice hardened into ice.
"Nothing sordid, I swear." Curse that fool Jipp and the harlot he dared to call a knight. She must think the whole dragon species as wanton as those two. To think he'd the audacity to blame Jaimin for becoming what he was today. Well he hadn't driven that depraved tropic into Aaluna's arms. And Hurani chose me first. Turning to Jipp had only been a last resort choice for her and she'd rejected using that option upon Jaimin's return from the assault on Kalon's nor-western border.
Still, in the decades since, he often found himself idly speculating on the outcome if he'd arrived earlier, or later, or if Jipp had Flown her instead. His jaw tightened at the last thought. Though maybe then, she would've lived, even if it meant Jipp mating with his Hurani. Calm. He took a shuddering breath. Now is not the time to think on it.
Maayin appeared round the end panel, the farthest from where he stood. One hand ran down her skirts, the delicate fingers smoothing each wrinkle before joining the other in rubbing a drying cloth against the tips of her hair. It no longer sat piled high like when he'd first seen her, instead the thick tresses lay gracefully over her shoulders and tumbled down her back in an avalanche of black curls. "Very well then, let's see this not-at-all-sordid thing you wish to show me."
It was difficult to tear his gaze from her. "Naturally you know how easily we can mimic the human form." He undid his belt, marking how she flinched. Jaimin stepped closer to the bed, and further from her. It seemed to ease her tension, but did nothing for his anger. Jipp was going to have a lot to answer to the next time they met. "But somehow I doubt you're aware we are just as capable of altering much of our appearance." He stripped himself of the sleeveless cloak and heavy jerkin, donning the vest before spreading out the jerkin over the rumpled bedding. "We may have no say on the colour of our skin, but on the way a single strand of hair falls, or the pattern on a cloak ... we are trained to alter such things." He turned to face her, relieved to find she had not tried to leave. "And, of course, our clothing can be transformed at whim. Sometimes unconsciously."
Closing his eyes, he focused on just what lay on the bed. It was never easy to change a fraction of oneself and, according to his tutors, his mind had a horrible habit of wandering at the most inconvenient of times. But then, there had always been distractions and Hurani's presence had never helped with his concentration. What he wouldn't give to have her around now.
He opened his eyes to the soft hiss of Maayin's gasp. The jerkin no longer lay on the bed. In its place was a ruffled shirt; a more favoured attire for Jipp and akin to those worn by the courtiers at the last royal ball he'd attended. Why had it become that? It was hardly to his taste. "As you can see, even discarded, it is still part of me."
"Incredible." Maayin drew closer to the shirt, a hand outstretched as if to pick it up but stopping short of actually touching it. "How is that you are able to take off your skin?"
"My skin?" He laughed. "No, that is my fur." Though he'd heard those of grassland descent – what with their leathery hides and lack of fur or feathers, apart from their wings – saw it differently, for him, taking off clothing was no different to shedding his heavier winter coat. And, as long as the item in question was not ruined, he could dress and return to his natural form without any ill effects.
She spun to face him. The skirts swirled about her legs, briefly revealing her booted feet and a flash of bare leg. "Why show me this?"
"I believe you've the same ability."
She crossed her arms with an abrupt snort. "No I don't." The soft bow of her lips curved into a tiny smirk. "I think I would've noticed something like that." She glanced back at the bed.
Jaimin frowned. He knew she'd the talent, possibly better than any dragon, living or dead. How could she not have noticed it? The girl didn't seem dense. Stubborn perhaps. Enough to give him the urge to shake her until she saw sense. "All your life, you've been garbed in black, yes?"
She looked down at her dress. Ran a hand down the side of the bodice. "So?"
Jaimin tore his gaze from her hand as it lingered on her waist. That warmth in his gut had started up again and was getting increasingly hotter. "Since you were a babe?" He shook his head. "I could bet my life that if I asked any seamstress within and around the castle at Byron's Peak that none would be able to confess to being the creator of your clothing, no matter how fine." The colour was a near perfect match to her velvet skin, if a little glossier. A pity the wide skirts made her petite frame even shorter. "And no cobbler could lay claim to crafting your shoes." He'd only caught a glimpse, but his mind could summon up their shape readily enough. Dull black, short of length, just above the ankles, and high of heel. Not something he recalled seeing woman wear on a regular basis. But then, he'd little to do with nobles apart from those whom had chosen to become knights.
Her wide eyes narrowed. "I am no dragon." With the fire in the stove dimming and the lanterns needing more oil, her eyes no longer reflected the light. Jaimin could nearly make out her pupils in that sea of black. He swore they were just as slitted as his own.
Or did he do naught but fool himself there? Could it be that, deep down, he wanted her to be a dragon as much as the council did? No. He was sure of what he'd seen. Behind that innocent gaze lurked something else. Something fighting to make itself known. He could not be imagining it.
Concealing a grin, he retrieved his shirt – now a little more to his taste and with less of those annoying ruffles – and, once more removing his vest, pulled it over his head. "Humour me and try. Focus on how you would like your gown to appear." He resisted the urge to warn her against picturing anything too complicated, it had always been the first safety measure given to hatchlings, but he somehow knew she wouldn't require such a precaution. If she could create something as fine as what she wore now without thinking on it, she'd do just as well knowingly. "If you fail, I'll consider returning you sooner."
"You'll consider?" Anger flared to life once more. It sparkled in her eyes and hardened her childlike face. "I want a definite vow that, if I fail, you'll return me today."
Jaimin smiled. This would be one of the easiest oaths he'd never have to give. The council would be less than pleased at losing her, but he'd a feeling that, even if she knew how to deliberately fail, she wouldn't. Her pride would stop her from taking the dishonourable route. "I swear." He watched in silent anticipation as she closed her eyes. Saw the gown shimmer, blurring for a heartbeat, then regain its lavish form.
Maayin looked down at her clothing before meeting his eyes. Her brow furrowed. There may not have been a proper physical change to mark it, but judging by the doubt creeping onto her face he knew she must have felt the magic.
There was no chance the records had been wrong. He should've been overjoyed to know his risk had proven itself to be no risk at all. So why did his heart feel as heavy as if he mourned?