Maddugh was bored. The interminable years of his life in this dimension dragged behind him like a chain no saw could sever. After the first few years on Earth, spit out through a dimensional rift cause by the human war, they’d nearly over hunted the areas they’d landed in. But his stone city was built, as close to what they’d had at home, his people prosperous. He’d wrested control of the rock humans prized so much, and the mining of it had made him, and his people, wealthy. They still couldn’t grow food worth a damn, being mostly carnivores and not plant eaters, but they had enough gold from the mine that trading was never much of a problem, except during times when there were shortages in general.

He’d watched his young, motherless sons grow into men. They’d mastered their dual natures as men and dragons that made them Dwyrkin. This existence could be precarious at times, but it was almost never dangerous. And, the only real problem left for him to solve was unsolvable. How could he make his people fertile again? It was impossible. They needed fresh Dwyrkin genes to have more children, and that was one thing they would never get, exiled as they were. Unlike humans, Dwyrkin women had a limited supply of eggs. A handful of potential births, no more, and done. Magical babies were hard to carry to term, and once the eggs were depleted…

They would never again step foot on their land of birth, the gates were permanently closed. So, there would be no more children born—unless the men took humans to their beds, and if they did… well, that would spell their end. For eventually, the dam would break and the strength of their pure dragon blood would fail, and what made them dragon—even what made them a kind of super human—would be no more. But it was accept the decline of their power, or die. And the few times in his early travels he’d encountered a half-blood, he’d had to admit the mix hadn’t been… detestable. They would never be as strong, or shift, but they weren’t embarrassing.

A commotion at the entrance to his hall stirred his attention, a woman’s angry voice. In years past, mornings would be flooded with petitioners, dragon and human alike, but lately it had been quiet. Gaston had showed up again, this time without his aide, and attempted to discuss the very same issue Maddugh was certain he’d already given his decision on. He’d kicked the man out only moments ago. The wide double doors crashed open and one of his guards half dragged, half pushed a cursing woman inside.

She looked around, spotting him immediately despite the cloak of shadow he gathered around him. Interesting. The Fae kept to themselves, and the Bears also conserved their strength for their clans. Some had mated with humans over the years, but dragons had held out as long as possible. This woman reminded him of one of those cross species matings. He rarely used his magic these days—it wasn’t necessary, but he wasn’t so rusty that she should have been able to see through it.

Her eyes narrowed, and she yanked away from his guard. Only the hardness of her eyes and the direct way she stared at him—younger human women tended towards coyness—gave him a clue she wasn’t as young as she appeared, and he’d thought human women aged faster than Dwyrkin. Glossy dark hair bound in a loose braid. A narrow face, the bones reminiscent of his people, her full mouth thinned with her displeasure.

“Maddugh, I want to talk to you,” she said, voice ringing out in the quiet of the hall.

She used his name as if she had a right—as if she had no fear of him, discarding the honorific as if it had never existed. Maddugh’s eyes flicked to his guard and he lifted a finger, beckoning. He suppressed a smile because he could see his silence angered her. The guard bumped her forward. She took one step and paused, turning her head to look at the man.

“Put your hands on me one more time,” she said, “and see what I do to you, boy.”

Maddugh’s eyebrow rose. Boy? The guard wouldn’t like that. He was likely centuries older than this woman—but the mortals had a hard time accepting that their apparent youthfulness was entirely deceptive.

She strode forward and he had a fleeting thought that he hoped she’d been disarmed because she looked as if she wanted to shoot him, or skewer him with something pointy.

“I’m Maddugh,” he prompted when she stopped in front of him, folding her arms.

“I wasn’t sure since you didn’t answer me,” she said. “You need to tell your guards to stop taking their jobs so seriously. I’m one mere woman. He didn’t have to pat me down like an assassin.”

Ah. Likely her tone had rubbed his man the wrong way, so she’d gotten more hostile than usual treatment. Deservedly so. A beautiful, spirited woman could be forgiven many things—but not at first.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Whatever it was, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be bored in just a few more minutes. That alone was enough to incline him towards her request—which he was certain would be framed more as a demand. He glanced at the guard, dismissing him.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, uncrossing her arms. Her posture was less hostile once the guard closed the door, though no less grim.

“First thing. My daughter is dying,” she said. “I was told you can help her.”

Unexpected. “Why would I want to?”

She gaped at him a moment. He watched as anger pinked her gold-brown cheeks.

“My daughter is dying.”

He waved a hand. “You said that. And my response was, ‘Why-”

“I heard what you said,” she snapped. She paused. “I have money.”

Maddugh laughed. How cute. “Did you see the town on the way in? Yes? Well, it is all my hoarde. What need have I for your money?”

“Look, I was told you can help. I’m not even sure you can. But I know I’ll pay whatever price you ask.”

Maddugh believed her. He rose, clasping his hands behind his back and circling her. What a rare opportunity for entertainment.

“That’s annoying,” she said, staring up into the air.

He ignored her. “I happen to be… inclined towards some sort of amusement tonight. Where is the child?”

“We live about a one-hour jog from here.” She paused. “Well, it took me about that long to get here at a brisk pace. If you’ve a horse, you might want to spare yourself the exercise.”

His eyes narrowed. Was she implying he was physically weak? “I’ll run with you, and see if there is anything I can do for your child.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And your price?”

Maddugh restrained his glee. This was bound to be special entertainment. “We’ll discuss that when I see your child.” The less entertaining the interlude, the steeper the price he would exact.

* * *

Seeing him up close and relatively personal was different than watching him from afar. For one, his… presence… nearly overwhelmed her before she adjusted. It was just the natural strength of his personality. Kailigh wondered how his people managed to breathe the same air as him, or if they had developed natural shields over the years, like a magical callus. He stared at her with nearly gold eyes that seemed to pierce through her barriers and see into her soul. For a second she thought the pupils narrowed into slits. Kailigh grimaced from the melodrama of her thoughts. He was dragon, and a ruler at that. Of course, he would have a forceful personality.

The guard wanted to accompany them, and started to argue before a few low words cut the man off. Kailigh smiled, feeling a little snarky. She hadn’t appreciated the pat down, but had forced herself to submit to it when on a regular day, she would have cut the man for his temerity. She hadn’t lived for nearly half a century to allow little peasants like that to think they could run all over her. In the backwoods, away from all but the most basic of laws and technology, reputation was a woman’s best protection. That, and a gun.

* * *

It had been an unpleasant surprise to pass Gaston on the path leading up to the castle doors. He’d glanced at her, and paused, expression incredulous.

“Mistress Kailigh? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t appreciate the tone of his voice. “None of your business, I suppose.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Another stony-faced guard stared back at them. “If you have an… audience… with the Lord, he’s not in the best of moods.” His eyes roved over her body, assessing her state of dress. Kailigh stiffened, a sour taste in her mouth. A man like him always assumed the only business a single woman had with a man was the kind that required payment up front before she stretched out on her back. She shook the irritation away. Gaston didn’t matter, the present mattered.

Keeping up with Maddugh mattered. They ran at a pace which appeared leisurely to the dragon Lord but which Kailigh had to concentrate to keep. She realized the great shape she’d always prided herself on was an illusion. As they ran, she considered whether training with Dwyrkin might improve her conditioning. It was a thought for another day. For now, she focused on not embarrassing herself. The fact that she could keep up with him was marvel enough. Genes and determination, she supposed.

She tightened her jaw and banished thought. She needed to concentrate. And when this was done, she’d be upping her training regime as well.

* * *

Maddugh was thinking the same thing. The pace he set was for no slouch—and he deliberately, gradually, increased his stride to see how the woman would respond. He saw her set her face, grit her teeth and set to, breathing even, legs strong. How a human could keep up with him, he didn’t know.

Experimentally, he brushed up against her mind, something he rarely did with humans; wading through the chaos of their thoughts was like wading through honey… a smelly kind that didn’t come off in a normal wash. When he encountered a smooth steel wall, he was shocked enough that he almost stumbled. The woman was shielded. Granted, it was rudimentary, the untutored kind erected in emergencies, but he could tell it was old and entrenched. Now he really wanted to see her child, and the man who had fathered it. He frowned. Why was the mother coming and not the father? It didn’t sit well with him.

“Where is the child’s father?” he asked.

She replied, but he could tell it was an effort to keep her words even while she ran.

“Divorced. Years ago. Just me and the girls.”

Maddugh had assumed the woman belonged to someone. Single females who weren’t pleasure workers were rare in these lands, especially attractive single human females of the dangerous variety. Interest sharpened, a kind he hadn’t felt in several years. He’d always preferred his lovers with a certain edge and maturity, and it had been long enough he felt restless. The females available to him were… boring. Or too impressed with his rank and wealth to be much sport, in the bedroom or out. He missed his wife’s acerbic wit and dry candor, even if some days he couldn’t recall her face.

They arrived at her home in record time, a medium sized cabin set on a bit of cleared land with quite a large garden, lush with various vegetables and fruits she was growing. Another mark of her value. His people had trouble with their gardens, enough that he had to import food. The woman would owe him a favor, if he healed her daughter. His mind began to swirl with the possibilities of how he might collect.

They entered the house and he was led through a hallway to the back. The human knocked on the door quietly and opened it. The smell of sickness assailed him, two young women sitting guard over a third. Maddugh stared. And his suspicion that the woman by his side wasn’t fully human solidified. The mother’s eyes were a deep brown, unremarkable though lovely, a shade common amongst human and shifters. But the daughters—their eyes gave them away, throw backs to their Dwyrkin ancestor. No pure-blooded humans had eyes like that, coupled with the bone structure and focused way they regarded him. One of the young women—her queerness enrobed her the way his dragon enrobed him. He wondered what powers she would manifest when she reached full maturity.

“I thought your daughter would be a child—she is nearly adult.” He looked at the mother, eyes narrowed. The mother didn’t have the physical appearance of a woman with nearly adult children. She appeared little older than her daughters herself. “You aren’t human.”

The mother turned and pinned him with a hard look. “What?”

“You aren’t human,” he repeated, then moved forward to look at the girl lying on the bed. She was near death, lips gray and drawn. He’d seen lips that color before. Kneeling, he drew the blanket covering her away. The sister—the queer one—made a movement. He saw the mother—realizing he hadn’t asked her name—hold up a hand, the dragon Lord now mindful to tread carefully. He hadn’t lived this long by underestimating potential threats.

Maddugh turned his head to look at the eldest woman. “She has iron poisoning. You aren’t human.” Not fully, and with prodding the Dwyrkin side would emerge to the surface, enough that the humanity would become inconsequential. If iron affected her this badly, it was likely they were Dwyrkin Fae, a race biologically compatible with the dragons.

Four unwed women, with no protector, and a need to place themselves in his debt. Maddugh clamped down on his surge of avarice. How the hell had they lived all these years under his nose? Were his men blind as well as stupid? Non-human females should never have been allowed to live outside his city. They were too valuable, no matter what kind of Dwyrkin they were.

And what that meant for his people—he pushed aside the thought. For now, he had work to do, and then… he knew now what his price would be.

The woman’s dark eyes widened, then narrowed thoughtfully. Maddugh turned back to the girl and unraveled the bandages. A gunshot wound, the flesh grayed and dying.

“Doc got the bullet out,” the dark eyed one said, her voice low and raspy. Her aura was more… balanced, though she watched him just as closely, with the air of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to go for his throat.

Maddugh placed a hand over the wound. His healing gifts were minor according to his people, but in human lands where their medical technology was insufficient—especially this far away from the few city centers left, his skills were almost miraculous. He sent magic into her blood, spending several moments to seek and gather the iron, drawing it out through the wound. It began to bleed freely again. When he was certain none of the poison remained, he turned to the mother.

He couldn’t keep calling her that. “What is your name?”

She regarded him a moment. “Kailigh.”

His eyebrows shot up. Kailigh? “Did you know that is a diminutive of a Dwyrkin name?” A shortened name, usually used with an affectionate inflection. Someone had named her for a loved one, perhaps.

Or a pet.

“I did not. My daughter?”

“The poison is gone—a bit of my blood would give her some energy, help her power begin to replenish.”

“But.”

He rose. “I have decided on my price.”