6. Sloane

Chapter 6

Sloane

I grab the table lamp, hefting it in my hand like a club as I cautiously approach the window. Fear and curiosity keep my feet moving forward. Who—or what—could be out there? I'm three stories up, and there's not even a window ledge to perch on.

As I get closer and see the source of the scratching, my jaw drops. Holy shit, it's a bird the size of a large cat.

No, not a bird. A miniature dragon .

I blink hard, wondering if I'm hallucinating. But when I open my eyes, it's still there, hovering just outside the glass.

Its scales shimmer with an iridescent blue-green, catching the light in a way that's almost hypnotic. Translucent wings flap effortlessly, keeping the creature suspended in mid-air.

This can't be real.

I shake my head, but the dragon remains. It has an oval shaped body and a short, thick tail it's using to— what the hell ?—knock on the window.

The dragon's eyes meet mine, the vertical cat-like pupils dilating, and I see intelligence there. It cocks its head to the side, as if asking, "Well, are you going to let me in or what?"

I stand frozen, the lamp still clutched in my hand, as I try to process what I'm seeing. A dragon. An actual, honest-to-god dragon. Knocking on my window. Like some kind of alien neighbor popping by for tea.

What do I do now?

Instincts I've honed during my years of survival in space scream at me to back away, to call for help, to do anything but what I'm about to do. But my curiosity wins out.

"I must be losing my mind," I mutter as I reach for the window latch, briefly wondering if he breathes fire, or if that's just a fairytale fantasy. I unlock the window and push it open.

Without hesitation, the dragon zips past me in a blur of iridescent scales and beating wings, the gust of air ruffling my hair. I spin around, trying to track its movement as it soars around the suite, performing aerial acrobatics that would make a fighter pilot jealous.

Finally, it lands gracefully on the dining table, right next to the untouched food tray Mornah left me. Its head swivels toward the food, then back to me.

"Are you hungry, little dragon?" I ask in a childish, sing-song voice.

I immediately want to slap myself. What am I doing, talking to a dragon like it's a puppy or a kitten? But as the creature looks at me, I sense it understands.

Taking a cautious step toward the table, my eyes never leaving the dragon, I slowly reach for what looks like a piece of fruit from the tray. "Okay, little...dragon. Let's see if you're as friendly as you seem."

I extend my hand, offering it the fruit. A first, it just stares at me, and I wonder if I've made a terrible mistake. Then, quick as lightning, it darts forward and snatches the fruit from my fingers.

I jerk my hand back with a startled yelp, then immediately feel foolish. The dragon didn't hurt me and hasn't made any aggressive moves; it's just munching contentedly on the fruit.

A nervous laugh bubbles up from my chest. "Sorry about that," I tell the dragon, feeling silly for talking to it like it understands me. "Don't be offended if I seem a little jumpy. It's not every day I meet a miniature dragon in an alien palace."

The dragon pauses in its chewing, looking up at me with those seemingly intelligent eyes. It gives a little chirp that sounds almost reassuring.

"This is insane," I mutter, but a smile spreads across my face. "I'm having a conversation with a dragon. A dragon that apparently understands English. A dragon who needs a name. I think I'll call you Zephyr, which means a gentle breeze. What do you think?"

The dragon finishes its fruit, and lets out what can only be described as a satisfied burp followed by a small puff of smoke. Then it settles down on the table, folding its wings neatly against its body, and fixes me with an expectant stare.

"I'm going to assume you like the name and want more to eat." I place several more pieces of fruit in front of Zephyr, then sit across from him and fill a plate for myself. "If there's anything else on the tray that looks good to you, feel free to help yourself."

We eat in companionable silence. The only reason I'm not babbling is because my mouth is full of food. My dragon friend finishes eating before me, and when I'm done, I push my plate away.

"So, Zephyr, got any tips on how to escape from the third story of an orc palace?"

He cocks his head, then spreads his wings and takes flight, zooming out the window as quickly as he came in.

"Hey, wait!" I call out, scrambling up from the table and running over to the window. I look around, but Zephyr is gone. I'm surprised by the pang of loneliness that hits me. "Great. The dragon ditched me."

Sighing, I strip off my clothes and turn back to the wardrobe. Might as well get this over with. I rifle through the clothing, grumbling when I realize there's no clean underwear to be found. "Perfect. Just perfect."

I do find what looks like a simple slip or chemise, so I put that on before wrapping one of the robes around my body and securing it with the tie. As the silky fabric settles around me, I laugh out loud at how ridiculous I must look. But if wearing the fancy bathrobe helps placate the king, I'll suffer through it until I can escape.

Just as I'm about to close the window, a familiar whoosh of wings zips inside. Zephyr is back, and he's hovering over the living area just beneath the chandelier. Before I can say or do anything, he drops something small on the table and darts back out the window.

"What the—" I start, but the dragon is already gone.

Curious, I pick up the small object Zephyr left behind. As I examine it, realization dawns on me. My eyes widen, and a grin spreads across my face. "Holy shit!" I exclaim.

Looks like opportunity might have just knocked.