struck the bells had both hands burned off. And the bell tower itself was on fire. I indifferently watched the fire from above, magically calculating where the fortress I needed was.
“You are an arsonist!” It was a girl shouting from the window, aiming a crossbow at me. Oh, my God! It was her. That’s Moriella. I didn’t get a good look at her last time. She’s much prettier when viewed from the air than when you watch her carriage from the street.
She shot at me, and of course she missed. The dragon was flying too fast. If she had hit, though, her arrow wouldn’t have hurt me much, even if it had been poisoned.
I used magic just in case, and Moriella’s arms ached so much that she dropped the crossbow herself. I can’t fight her! How can you fight a lady, and such a seductive one at that? The prudent beauty immediately moved away from the window when she realized she didn’t have the strength to fight me. The problem was, she had nowhere to retreat to. The fire that had taken over the fortress from the neighboring wings had blocked all the exits. Moriella was trapped, and she wasn’t cursing like a lady, from what I could hear.
It was embarrassing that I’d burned down the whole town before I flew into her window. But what else could I do? That’s just the way it is. The ones I liked best, I courted with passion. And my passion often led to fire.
When she saw the dragon transform into a handsome young man, Moriella lost her self-defense. The arrogance in her violet eyes was replaced by confusion and… by longing. How often I’d seen that amorous expression in the eyes of ladies, but with her, for some reason, it was especially pleasing. I held out my hand to her. And she threw herself at me, not even afraid of what a young man experienced in magic might do to her. And what choice did she have: either burn or fly away with me.
I should have given Rose no choice. Perhaps then she would have been more affectionate. But I was foolish to fall in love for the first time in my life. Moriella, too, was apparently in love for the first time in her life. She was nestled on the back of the dragon that carried her over the northern sea. Salt water splashed in her face and cold winds blew, but she stubbornly clung to the spikes on my back and even felt the sharp scales. Good thing she didn’t think to prick me with pins. Rose would have if she thought I was infringing on her rights. Moriella, oddly enough, now considered her freed, not kidnapped. Her hometown was burning up behind my tail, and the girl even began to hum something about the winds of the sea and the free will. Who will understand these beauties, what they really want? One thing is certain: since I burned down Moriella’s house, I’ll have to find her a place in my Empire. Good for her, because if she stays there, she’ll never grow old. But where I could put her? How to make sure the locals don’t abuse her. Shall I give to Percy as a wife? He’d be so pleased! I don’t think so. He’s used to being free and having affairs with everyone. We could get Vincent out of exile and force a wife on him. If you give her a good dowry, he’ll be delighted. The main thing is to divide the dowry into two parts, so that when he drinks his dowry, Moriella will at least have money left over for a family life.
But it’s too early to think about that. We’ve got a whole voluptuous night ahead of us. Only for some reason, instead of a luxurious palace, I flew to a cemetery. There were no grave fairies. They could get jealous of me and start pinching Moriella until she bled. There was one gorgeous stone tombstone that looked more like a king’s bed, decorated with stone roses. I lowered Moriella onto it, and then I landed beside it and took on a beautiful human form. In the meantime, the beauty was nestled comfortably on the tombstone, straightened her purple velvet dress with silver braid. The agate hoop on her forehead gleamed, a reminder of the spells that witches use to heal girls from unwanted suitors. Apparently, Moriella had traveled to such a witch for a reason. The hoop and the necklace were definitely telling her something. I probably wasn’t an unwanted suitor, so all that jewelry didn’t work on me.
Moriella had apparently undergone some kind of witchcraft ritual, because she felt quite normal in the cemetery. I lay on top of her, undid the silver lacing on her corsage, exposing her plump breasts with pinkish nipples, and the night of lovemaking began. It was business as usual. No words but hot girl whispers about how beautiful I was. And every girl promised me I was the only one she’d ever have. I don’t think any of them will keep that promise. To whom are the pretty girls faithful?
“It is only to those whose embrace they die in.”
I didn’t even look back at the snide remark. I didn’t care what grave spirit said it. The familiar act of love had become more fascinating to me than even magic rituals. And Moriella was suddenly the first person I wanted more than just coitus with. A witch indeed! I leaned over her once more and suddenly felt the skin beneath my hands turn to ash. What’s wrong? Moriella’s pupils rolled back, revealing pure whites. Her lips turned to ashes before my eyes, her cheeks blackened and sunken, her hair scattered into ashes that the wind picked up and swirled around. The body on the tombstone seemed to burn from the inside out. A moment ago it had been young flesh, but now it was a handful of ash. Only the silver jewelry remained untouched by the fire. They gleamed over the ashy wreck of a head. The wind blew, and the ashes were gone. I stood staring at the flat tombstone where Moriella had lain a moment ago. What had happened to her after all? I didn’t set her on fire. She burned from the inside out. Isn’t that what happened to all of them? I’d spend the night with them, and the next morning, they’d burn up. Is that it?
To find out, we have to go back to Simonetta at least. Maybe she’s still alive. Then, of course, I was wrong. And Moriella played her own magic to disastrous results.
“Why do you care so much? Why do you care if you kill them or if they burn themselves?”
I shrugged off the annoying voice and went to check for myself. There were ashes at Simonetta’s house, too, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was useless to question the servants about anything, except to find a spirit witness. Usually they fly around and see everything, but I preferred to find out for myself. All I had to do was strain my secret vision and imagine what had happened in that bedroom a few hours ago. I saw it all at once, as soon as I closed my eyelids. The blond mistress was turning into a figure of ash, and she did not realize what was happening to her. Her body was bursting into ash piece by piece. And the fire was burning inside. The fire had gotten into her with the dragon seed.
You don’t have to check any further. I was sure that all my lovers had been subjected to the same deplorable story. So I can’t be with mortal women anymore. So that was the end of the fun! The fairies seemed different, so I’ll concentrate my interest on them.
It’s a pity it doesn’t make up for what I’ve done. I liked Simonetta when she was alive. Now all I could do was put her ashes in an urn.
I was drawn back to the cemetery where Moriella had died, so I flew there. It’s good to be a dragon. I don’t even need a horse to get around. There were even pegasi waiting in my imperial stables.
Dragon, as it turned out, was difficult to be only when it came to love. Especially love for mortals.
How right was the young man who had advised me to buy an urn for Lisette’s ashes. By the way, how could he have known before I did? He was lucky I wasn’t in his way right now, or I’d have had my claws at his throat. I wanted to take it out on someone. That’s when I sought solitude in cemeteries. If you’re feeling down and dreary, it’s better to wander among the graves. Of course, only if you don’t meet there angry and very attractive grave fairies, who always wear black, have an earthy complexion and, alas, are partially rotting. But this does not diminish their beauty.
There were pixies dancing on the graves in the cemetery. I looked at the beautiful portrait carved on one of the headstones. What if she were alive? The dead woman herself must have long since decomposed in the ground. If the body hadn’t rotted away entirely, I could pick her up and rebuild her, but would it be worth it? I’d been wrong once before. That girl was almost intact, but the disease had left its marks on the resurrected body. They would have