Free Shadow Dragon by Marc Secchia Page B

faithfulness as she did. Come that day, her heart would be devastated.
    He said, “Do you seek only the Immadian way for yourself? What would you want, Aranya?”
    She thought about Ignathion and his two pretty but calculating consorts. She thought about her experience in Remoy with Zuziana’s family, consisting of one father, four mothers and seventeen siblings, none of whom knew who their real birth mother was. What did Aranya really want? Kisses were sweet, but she wanted so much more than for him just to desire her body. Respect for her opinions and her skills would be a good start. Loving the Dragon in her was also essential. How could she say these things without offending him?
    In a small voice, Aranya ventured, “All I want is you, Yolathion. Is that so selfish?”
    “I don’t think so,” he said, heaving a gusty sigh. “We can work this out, Aranya. We’ve grown up differently. It’s just a cultural distinction, that’s all.”
    “We’ll work it out,” said Aranya, allowing him to draw her to her feet and into his strong embrace.
    But there were so many differences, her heart wailed. He wanted to be in command. He wanted his woman to smile prettily and not venture a contrary opinion. That was not Aranya. In her Dragon form, even less so. Beran and Izariela had raised their daughter to be strong and independent. Yolathion was cautious. He considered each move carefully, a trait he had picked up from his father. But somehow, Ignathion did not strike her as so rigid in his thinking. It was almost as though, having set his mind on one thing, Yolathion found any change an impossible wrench.
    In all this, they were complete opposites.
    What creature could be more free-spirited than a Dragon?
    But Nak and Oyda were hardly alike. Her father liked and respected Yolathion, didn’t he? Zip had practically shoved her into the Jeradian’s arms. Was she worrying about nothing? At least Yolathion prized her enough to wait for her to make up her mind.
    Aranya returned his kisses with growing passion. She had enough of creating fear as a Dragon. She did not want to fear her future as well.

Chapter 5: The Nameless Man
     
    Z uziana bared her needle-sharp fangs at her Rider, Ri’arion. She took a playful snap at his knee. “You moons-mad monk! You still want to dance upon my back, mid-flight?”
    “The saddle straps restrict me.”
    “Oh, cramping your style, am I?” sniped Zip. “An inexperienced, Dragon-fire-less, powerless Azure Dragon is–”
    “Just what the Nameless Man wishes to ride into battle,” Ri’arion interrupted. “Who, I mean. Look, we’ll work it out. You’re nervous about taking on the Sylakians at Gemalka. I promised to take care of you, dear one, and I shall. I am not without powers.”
    The Princess of Remoy, thirty feet of azure wings, gleaming fangs and sleek, scaly reptilian hide, stared unseeing at the horizon as she heaved a Dragon-sized sigh. She rested on the wing, riding the slight breeze that pressed against her body and slowed Commander Darron’s Dragonship fleet as they buzzed along to the rear, as though she were a child towing an incongruously enormous string of hydrogen balloons. Zuziana angled her flight upward, surprised as ever by the power of her flight muscles and the ease with which her body rode the air currents. So much for being a diminutive Remoyan, barely five feet tall. Now she was a petite Dragoness. Aye. And less than a third of the size Garthion had been, Islands’ sakes!
    Well, it had only been a week since her first transformation. Should she be surprised that everything felt new and strange? She had been comfortable as a Dragon Rider. But actually being a Dragon–that was different. Now she understood how Aranya must have felt, the force of the emotions driving her, the whole, incredible Dragon experience …
    She sighed, “I don’t have any powers, Ri’arion. Everyone else can burn the heavens or bring down almighty curses on their enemies and I