A slight pang of guilt gripped her stomach when it was Damien. Sure, it was who she’d wanted it to be, but now she felt guilty. He had so much stuff to do—like run an entire kingdom. She should be trying to take up all of his time with her silly little problems. All the same, she smiled to him and uncurled from her ball.

Thanks for the warning, she imposed to Choin. Had she had some sort of forewarning she could have changed her mind and hid or something.

The proud red dragon just opened one eye at her and moved her shoulders in what could have been a shrug. She’d wanted to see Damien, there he was. No use complaining to her about it. Choin made a point of ignoring the newcomers, but kept one eye slightly, hoping that maybe she’d get some snacks.

“I do hope you're not watching the eggs to determine which ones are duds. . . .” He quipped, chuckling.

She smiled and managed a little roll of her eyes. “I figure if I stare at them long enough they might do something interesting,” she teased back, already feeling slightly better. She hadn’t been particularly sure why she wasn’t feeling up to par—occasionally she just was in a mood. Sometimes she figured it out, and sometimes she didn’t.

Sometimes she felt better on her own, and sometimes she got worse.

This felt like one of those “it would only get worse” times.

“Don’t you have kingly things to do? Not that I don’t mind seeing you, of course,” she commented with a sly little grin. Happiness was something she had become so accustomed to faking it was hard to see the dull light behind her eyes unless you knew to look for it.

Choin’s head came up immediately and she snatched the meat from the air with the front of her jaws, then swallowed it whole with a few jerks of her neck, long tongue snaking out to get traces left on her snout. The great dragon did a little happy wiggle and settled back down, brow much more relaxed and head settling down on her crossed fore-talons. She supposed she could handle their presence a mite longer.

Valarie managed a slight chuckle, then straightened her back and held her hand out like she was holding a kingly scepter. “First order of business as new king—every third day will be ‘Grand Festival of Her Mightiness’ and all will be required to throw flower petals and praise me name!” she declared, holding her head up high and trying to look serious.

This time a more real giggle left her lips and she went back to slouching in place, one knee bent and the other flat against the ground. “I’m afraid everyone would just run me out within a few weeks.”

A comfortable silent fell for a moment while Valarie worked up the courage to talk about what was on her mind, and the king brought up the eggs again. She smiled and motioned lightly toward the ever-vigilant mother shooting them dirty looks. Looks that made Choin mumble and mutter.

“She really is going to have beautiful babies, if any of them turn out to look like their eggs,” she commented, reaching out. She wasn’t going to touch, but she squinted and ran her hands through the air, pantomiming a gentle stroke. Her eyes lingered on the red eggs and she glanced over at Choin, who cocked her head ever so slightly.

She sighed.

Time to work into it.

“Tell me the story again,” she practically whispered, her smile fading into a thin line as she drew her knees up to her chest once more, withdrawing. Hopefully he understood what she meant—she loved hearing the tale of her great “rescue” from him. She asked Choin about it often, too.

Valarie smiled faintly and tried to picture it all in her head. She could practically see the haughty look on young Choin’s face as she turned her snout up at all the others. “How do you think she knew where to look?” she wondered, more to herself than to anyone. It was probably a question she’d asked before.

It was probably a question she would ask again.

Choin snuffed, disturbing some of the top grains of sand. I knew. It was a simple statement and Valarie couldn’t help but chuckle. Not good enough.

She leaned in and smiled at Damien. “She says they weren’t good enough.”

Still, she was glad. No matter the how or the why, it was enough that fate had brought her to that island at the right time. Maybe if she hadn’t been there Choin would have waited. Maybe if she hadn’t ever shown up Choin would have found someone else eventually. She’d still be stuck, but Choin would have moved on. Valarie was in Choin’s debt forever. . . without her she would be nothing. Without Valarie, Choin wouldn’t have even noticed.

Disturbed by these thoughts, Choin moved her head closer and nudged her elbow just slightly, those ice-colored eyes boring into her soul. Valarie sighed and pat her snout, apologizing for the dark place her thoughts had gone.

“How does that sound, Choin?” she asked, trying to pull herself away from the self-doubt and hopelessness. “Having your own little clutch of eggs one day?”

The red dragon lifted her head slightly and stared at the eggs before her, head cocked to the side ever so slightly before she heaved her shoulders and tilted her head from one side to the other. She was trying to be aloof, but Valarie knew that the thought appealed to her. She smiled fondly. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

A gruff snort was her only response.

Shaking her head, Valarie turned back to the eggs and swept her hand in a gesture toward them. “How long do you think before they hatch? I know it varies greatly, but I bet you a round at the tavern that they hatch in. . . six days.” It was mostly just banter, to keep the mood light. She knew how depressing she could get sometimes.

A light smile fluttered across her lips and Valarie nodded. “Yeah, I remember what it sounds like. Maybe one day Choin will settle down—and if she does I’m sure she’ll let us know in the most extravagant way possible,” she mused, allowing herself a little giggle.

Choin arched her neck and closed her eyes haughtily, chest puffed out. It brought another reserved chuckle from her rider.

She leaned in to nudge the king with her shoulder. Sometimes she regretted that sort of casual familiarity she allowed herself with him—he was the king, after all. She shouldn’t be jostling him and picking fun and teasing him. He could throw her in the dungeon! And if his wife—the queen—got the wrong idea, then she could throw her in the dungeon, too!

And that. . . .

That just wouldn’t be acceptable. Even thinking about it in jest set Valarie’s teeth on edge and she forced the image from her mind.

“If they do hatch in exactly six days you best believe I’ll be hunting you down to collect my bet winnings,” she teased, only a little bit of the unease she felt a moment ago betraying her tone. “One round at the tavern!”

Damien agreed and added some fuel to Choin’s fire. “If Choin ever had a clutch, it would probably be one of the biggest ever recorded. That, and I'm sure there would be many special colors within! I could see her giving us a whole amazing rainbow of opportunities. Isn't that right?”

Choin’s chest seemed to swell even more and she huffed with content, looking at the other red in the room with some disdain. It just made the mother threaten to kick her out of the sands.

Valarie shook her head. “Oh please don’t encourage her, it’s already hard enough to deal with her ego as it is.” She slapped the dragon’s flank teasingly and Choin moved just enough to nudge her back—then the dragon’s icy gaze fell on the bronze present and she settled back in, looking away. She hated showing such brevity in front of other dragons.

Or other people.

Or anyone besides Valarie, really.

“Six days. . . I hope so. I'd rather them hatch sooner than later. And I hope there aren't any duds in this group. It's already small enough as it is. . . . And we've been growing in population for a while now. . . .” Valarie cocked her head and watched him with a light smile. So he did sometimes act like a king. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

She smiled at him reassuringly and shrugged. “Someone’s going to be disappointed. It’s the way of life. You can’t please one hundred percent of the people one hundred percent of the time,” she recited, brushing some loose sand off of her pants. “If you’re that worried you could start limiting how many kids people are having! I mean, we’re breeding like rabbits if you ask me!”

It was just some light teasing—people would go bananas if he did something like that.

Maybe, who knew.