28: Into the Dream
Lilith figured she really had gone a little mad, like a kite cut loose in a sudden wind.
She couldn’t believe what had come out of her mouth. “Could you give me some encouragement?” She would never dare imagine words that soft.
Not like acting spoiled—no. It was acting spoiled, plain as daylight: pat my head and tell me I’m amazing.
Doubt flooded her like cold tide. A nameless danger pricked her skin. She couldn’t stay in Nidhogg’s bed, or she’d lose something precious like sand through fingers.
“You did great.”
Nidhogg’s voice was water over smooth stone. Lilith blinked back to herself, cheek pressed to Nidhogg’s cheek, lifted without her noticing.
The Black Dragon leaned to her ear. Her lips caught Lilith’s flushed earlobe. She murmured there, voice warm as a lantern in snow.
Lilith froze at once, like a duck dropped into a blizzard, turning into an unmoving popsicle in Nidhogg’s arms.
Her mind went blank, a white page in winter light. Only that last sentence burned at the edge of her ear.
“You did great.”
Praise starved her, and her heart bloomed like spring peach. The thought of fleeing vanished. She lay there and giggled, silly and sweet.
Out of Lilith’s sight, the Black Dragon smiled with helpless fondness. She didn’t stop, though; her voice stayed soft as night rain.
“Everyone has something they’re not good at. It’s fine if crowds make you stumble, Lilith.”
“The Coining Festival is Lamter’s grandest day. Everyone should taste joy there, even outsiders.”
“Even if you falter, the elves of Lamter won’t blame you. No one points fingers at a carnival bonfire. Don’t worry so much.”
Nidhogg kept their pose. One hand cupped under Lilith’s head, stroking her hair like smoothing down new snow.
The White Dragon’s hair puffed up like a dandelion. She loved those head pats; happiness narrowed her eyes to crescent moons.
Nidhogg kept petting, and she breathed at Lilith’s ear, voice steady as a heartbeat drum.
“I’ve seen your work these days. Mr. Rand will see it too. When they watch you perform, all Lamter will see.”
“Do well or not, the elves won’t scold someone who tried with her whole heart. And it hasn’t even begun.”
“Why decide you’ll fail before the first step? Have faith in yourself. You’ll succeed.”
“Hehe… Nidhogg, you really believe in me?” Lilith asked, smile silly as a sun-warmed cat.
Praise made her chest itch like new leaves. Sweetness filled her bones like honey. Heat turned her into a glowing red dragon.
And this time it came from the one she liked, so close her breath felt like petals on skin. Her head went foggy.
Now she barely remembered where she was. Only Nidhogg holding her, only the whisper at her ear, remained.
“Of course. You’ve never let me down,” Nidhogg said, smiling like dawn breaking a ridge.
“Think back. I took you adventuring. You slew the tainted drake that day.”
“In Morris, you did great too. Why not hold a little more faith in yourself?”
Lilith didn’t speak. She hugged Nidhogg hard, like clutching a warm hearthstone, and buried her face in her shoulder.
She breathed in heat and faint scent, soft as steam rising from tea at dusk.
The inn’s body wash smelled of papaya. Lilith didn’t like it much, but on Nidhogg it turned gentle as ripe fruit.
She took a greedy breath at Nidhogg’s neck and giggled like a shameless thief in love.
“Sleepy?” Nidhogg took Lilith’s silliness for drowsiness. She ignored the odd little antics like a breeze passing reeds.
But the sniffing tickled like feathergrass. Not fond of that, Nidhogg eased Lilith off and set her in front of her.
Lilith’s cheeks burned red as pomegranate skin. Her slender tail flicked under the quilt, echoing her restless heart.
“Sleepy or not, it’s bedtime. You’ve got the audition tomorrow,” Nidhogg reminded, voice warm as a blanket.
“Mr. Rand is strict. If you don’t pass, you’ll prep for the Coining Festival and keep drilling the dance. You’ll be swamped.”
“You said you had faith in me,” Lilith murmured, wronged, like a kitten mewling at a shut door.
Her eyelids weighed like stones, yet she craved Nidhogg’s warmth like fire on a winter night.
She scolded herself for taking advantage with a girl’s body. Still, her heart begged to burrow back into that cradle of heat.
“Having faith doesn’t mean I’ll let you stay up late,” Nidhogg said, firm as a hand to the back.
“You’re still in your fledgling-dragon phase. Too little sleep stunts growth. You won’t get taller.”
She dropped the word “height” like a pebble in a pond. Ripples ran through Lilith; she went docile at once.
She knew she hovered around one-fifty-something. She had to grow taller, like bamboo after rain.
So she stopped struggling and let sleep gather like evening fog. Still, one last thing tugged her tongue.
“Nidhogg…” Her voice was lazy with sleep, like a cat stretching. “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” Nidhogg asked, curiosity warm and steady, like an ember.
Lilith looked at the Black Dragon holding her. She opened her mouth. The confession rose like a wave.
She hesitated. The wave curled back. She closed her mouth. She chickened out like a sparrow dodging snow.
“Forget it. I’ll tell you at the Coining Festival.”
She pulled the quilt over her head like a soft shell and dropped into sleep, fast as a stone in deep water.
Let this coward run a little longer, like moonlight hiding behind a cloud.
