Free The Dragon of Trelian by Michelle Knudsen Page B

get too big for the tunnel. I don’t know what I’ll do with him then.”
    “Aren’t you worried at all about what will happen when he’s fully grown? I mean, about him attacking the castle or carrying off serving girls or something?”
    Meg shook her head. “No. I know I should be, but I’m not. I feel — connected to him, somehow. Maybe it’s all the time we’ve spent together or that he was separated from his mother so young, but somehow I know he’s not going to hurt me. And I don’t mean just physically. I mean, I know he’s not going to threaten the castle or do anything that would cause me pain.” She tapped her heart, then looked at Calen, clearly wanting him to understand. “I know it in here. I can feel it. Is that crazy?”
    Calen looked down at the dragon, sleeping with his head snuggled tight against Meg’s body. What she was saying did sound a little crazy, really, and yet — there was clearly
something
going on here. He looked back at her. Her eyes were still on him, more open than he’d seen them before, questioning, wanting his — approval? Understanding?
    “I don’t know, Meg,” he said slowly. “It seems possible, but at the same time, it’s a big risk to place that much trust in a feeling.”
    “But it’s more than a feeling. I can’t really explain.” She paused, seeming to steel herself before she went on. When she spoke again, it was in a rush, as though she didn’t want to give herself time to think. “We’re connected, Calen. I mean truly connected. I can feel him, all the time. He . . . pulls at me. As if he wants something, but I don’t know what it is. It’s like there’s a part of him that lives inside me now. It gets stronger when I get closer, but even when I’m farther away, he’s with me. I can’t make it go away. And sometimes . . .” She looked down at her hands, which she was wringing nervously. “Sometimes I don’t want it to go away. It makes me feel . . . strong. Powerful. Like I can do anything. But even when it feels good, it’s scary. I’m different. I’m
changing.
I — I don’t know what to do.”
    She fell silent. Calen tried to think of what to say. The bold, brash princess was gone again; during those last few sentences, Meg had sounded frightened and alone.
She’s asking for my help,
he realized. Maybe that shouldn’t have been so startling, but it was. Had anyone ever asked for his help before? Ever? He didn’t think so. There had never been anyone to ask him. People had always been
telling
him to do things — the innkeeper and his wife, cooks and masters of hearths and stables, Mage Serek, in abundance — but no one ever
asked
him. For anything. He felt something small and bright and warm flare into existence deep inside him — the same sort of feeling that magic used to inspire in him, before it became clear that Serek had been wrong about him, that he didn’t have whatever natural ability the mage had thought he’d sensed all those years ago that day at the inn. His spark, he thought. Serek had used that word, and Calen had assumed he’d meant it metaphorically. But that’s really what it was. He could feel it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until he suddenly had it back again.
    “Calen, please,” Meg whispered into the silence. “Say something. You’re the only person who knows. I can’t tell anyone else. If my family knew, they’d take him away. I couldn’t stand that.”
    She looked up at him, hopeful and scared. Calen watched her watching him, both of them trying to read the other.
    “I’ll help you, Meg,” he said. She smiled, and Calen thought he had never seen a sweeter sight. “Of course I’ll help you. I don’t know anything about dragons, really, but I’ll learn. Mage Fredrin’s old library —”
    Her worry returned in an instant. “But you can’t ask Serek! If he found out about Jakl . . .”
    Calen smiled grimly. “I won’t ask him. I know how to find some things out on my