Thirty-Two: Blazing Like Fire

The dance ended, but the Coining Festival had only just begun.

Nidhogg quietly handed the little ones to Mio. Ayla was beneath the stage, excitedly replaying the Little White Dragon’s performance, when a sprite got a bundle shoved into her arms. Two girls—one tall, one small—froze like deer in lamplight. Mio turned to scold Nidhogg, only to find the Black Dragon had vanished like a shadow in wind. The elf who had never seen her run that fast and Abaddon, now planted in Mio’s embrace, traded wide-eyed looks.

"Where’d she go?"

"To chase happiness, probably," Abaddon said, airy as a feather on water. One hand clamped the peeking, bouncing Litt. The other tugged Mio’s hem. "I saw some very tasty things on the way. Take me—and her—to eat."

"Oh. Sure." Mio had meant to rope Ayla into wrangling kids, but a glance back showed the City Lord lady had slipped away like rain into alley-stone. That left Mio alone, face to face with two little suns.

After cursing, in her heart, those two grease-heeled traitors, Mio took the small hand. Luckily, the Demon cuddling the Vampire had old-soul mischief in her eyes, the kind that makes adults breathe easy. By the look of her, Mio might even relax.

Right? Right…?

Leave Mio—who hadn’t yet met the princess temper of a tsundere Demon—to her optimism. In Nidhogg’s chest, the echo of a look with Lilith still burned. The Little White Dragon’s eyes had carried the spark of secret rendezvous. The Black Dragon didn’t dare be slow. She jogged to the back of the stage, to a quieter nook, and waited for the dancer to descend and change.

She didn’t wait long. She’d barely planted her feet when the Little White Dragon came pattering out, barefoot, a shawl thrown over her like mist on porcelain.

Lilith stepped from the dressing room and spotted Nidhogg at once. Her eyes lit like finding a hidden gem. She waved, bright as a bell, and rushed to the Black Dragon.

"Nidhogg!" Her voice still held a tremor, breath racing like a deer through brush. The Mali Dance isn’t gentle on the lungs, and the heat of so many gazes had wound her tight. Nidhogg understood. But the dance had set tinder in her mind. Hearing Lilith’s quick breaths made her picture things she shouldn’t.

"Why’d you come out dressed like this?" Nidhogg took in the shawl thrown over ceremonial robes. Under flame, that attire had made her a heaven-born beauty. Without the stage-fire, it left her delicate and bare.

Pale thighs and a slim waist gleamed like moonlit jade. Only those warm, smooth shoulders hid under the shawl, a half-veiled lute, a beauty shown and withheld.

"Hehe… I wanted to see you. Couldn’t wait." The Little White Dragon grinned, foolish and sweet, cheeks flushed like peaches. Heat or shame, Nidhogg couldn’t tell.

"Yeah?" Nidhogg rarely saw her throw a straight ball. Lilith’s face was thinner than the pastry crust Mio rolls; she never stated feelings plainly. This first foray put Nidhogg off balance. She answered, a beat behind. "You said you had something to tell me. Ready now?"

"Give me a minute. I want a different place." Lilith shook her head and pressed a finger to rosy lips. She bent forward, girl-next-door playful, then laced her fingers with Nidhogg’s. "Come with me."

Nidhogg’s hand closed in return. She felt Lilith pause at the touch, a shy sparrow alighting. The Little White Dragon stood silent for a heartbeat, then tugged the Black Dragon onward.

Still shy, Nidhogg thought, a smile like quiet dew.

Where will she take me?

Lilith led Nidhogg to a small house near the revels. Still in her ritual robes, she somehow produced a thick rope, swung it, and thunked it over a rooftop ledge.

She tugged hard. Once she was sure it caught, she hauled herself up. Then her small head peeped over the edge, moon-bright eyes on Nidhogg. "Come on. I’ll wait for you on that building next door."

"What are you doing up there?" Nidhogg sighed, half amused. Lilith loved rooftops the way cats love warm tiles. Back in the Dragon Territory, if you couldn’t find her, check the roofs; you’d spot her like a white flower against slate.

Nidhogg didn’t bother with rope. Grown wings don’t need to spread to fly. She rose like smoke. The Little White Dragon, still in her Feather-Dragon phase, didn’t have that trick. She gritted her teeth and climbed.

"Hah…" A light hop carried her to the top. They stood now atop a tall building in Lamter’s heart. Lilith didn’t know what place this was, only that it lay near the stage, and high enough to touch the Star Canvas.

"The stars are beautiful tonight." She plopped down and tilted her face to the jeweled sky.

"Yeah. Not much worse than the Dragon Territory’s." Nidhogg sat beside her, shoulder-to-shoulder, cool moonlight over warm skin.

"Lamter’s air is clean. You won’t see stars like this in Morris."

"They don’t see any stars at all. Some Vampires have gone generations without a true sky."

"It’s fine. They can see now. Maybe they’re looking at the same star as us."

"It’s daytime for them, I think. Our hours don’t match."

"Really?"

"Mm."

They chatted, words drifting like lanterns while Lamter boiled below. Tourists reveled in the Coining Festival’s arrival, painting the city in festival heat. Even atop a moon-washed roof, the two dragons couldn’t escape the warmth surging up like a tide.

"I have to tell you something." Maybe it was that city-borne heat fanning her courage. Lilith lowered her gaze from the Star Canvas and turned to Nidhogg’s eyes—deep, pull-you-in wells. "I used to think you were hard to approach."

"When we met, you stood behind Teacher Fafnir like an ice mountain no one could profane, pushing everything away with chill."

"Then you fixed those eyes on me because of my White Dragon body. Under your calm pressure and tempting promises, I followed you to that cavern."

"I fought with everything and killed that dragon. Bit by bit, we drew closer."

"I thought you were my reliable, nearby big sister. You didn’t talk much, and you loved to team up with Typhon to bully me. But with you, I felt safe. I thought we could stay like that forever."

"We can’t. And it’s because of me."

"My view of you changed. When I woke in Morris to your face as the first thing I saw, my feelings shifted."

"I started wanting more. Not just a sister. I began to crave…"

Lilith lowered her head. In forty-some years, two lives tied in one soul, she had never said her heart this plain to anyone. She didn’t know what to do with the storm inside. She let her flushed face fall, and in a near-whisper, she went on.

"I want to touch you. I want you to touch me. I want your arms around me. I want to spend every dawn and dusk with you… Nidhogg, I’m a foolish child. Tell me…"

"Did I fall in love with you?"

She didn’t dare raise her eyes. She didn’t dare see what sat on the Black Dragon’s face. Fear gnawed like frost; if there was disgust there, if there was impatience, she didn’t want her fragile hope shattering on stone.

"Yes, Lilith. You did fall in love with me." Nidhogg’s voice was calm, a still lake with mountains mirrored. Lilith couldn’t read her heart. It dropped her into ice. Tears glassed her vision. But before they fell, she forced out one last question.

"Then… your answer?"

"Lift your head, Lilith." Nidhogg didn’t answer in words.

Lilith sniffed hard and lifted her face. Through tear-blur, Nidhogg’s form seemed to swell. Then something warm and soft sealed her lips.

"Mmph!" The Little White Dragon yelped, surprise sparking like a firefly. The cry parted her teeth a sliver. A smooth invader slid in. She was no match—her tongue, delicate as a petal, seized and spirited away by Nidhogg’s bold tide.

For a novice, the kiss stretched on too long, drowning and sweet. Lilith felt breath leave her like a bird trapped under silk. Nidhogg stayed steady, a river with a sure current. Lilith slapped her forearm, quick, a few times. Only then did she draw back and let air return.

Lilith gulped fresh night, chest heaving, tears finally breaking their banks. She lifted a hand and wiped the wet at her lashes, sniffing like a kitten.

"Well? Does that answer satisfy you?" Nidhogg asked, voice like velvet.

"Mm." Lilith nodded. Happiness rose like spring water, too much to hold.

No—she was already overflowing.

"I’ve got plenty to tell you too. It’s not fair if only you say how you fell for me. I owe you my story, how I fell for you." Nidhogg folded Lilith into her arms and murmured at her ear. "But tonight we’ve got something more important. Let’s save the words."

"What could be more important?" Lilith pouted, a cloud crossing her little moon. How could anything outrank hearing how much Nidhogg loved her?

"See that window." Nidhogg guided her gaze to a window not far away, maybe sixty, seventy feet. For Nidhogg, that was spitting distance.

Lilith squinted, focus sharpening. Her whole body went still in Nidhogg’s hold.

She knew that room. Their inn. Their room.

She had never imagined her chosen confession spot lay so close to their bed.

Wait.

A knot pulled tight in her belly.

"You don’t mean… that, do you?" She felt Nidhogg’s arm around her waist cinch like a ribbon tugged. Lilith pushed at it, all her strength, and found the Black Dragon unmoving as a rooted tree.

"I—I’m still in my Feather-Dragon phase. You can’t." Panic fluttered in her chest, wings frantic. She wasn’t dull; she knew what Nidhogg intended. She tried a last, desperate wriggle.

"It’s fine. You won’t be for long." Nidhogg’s reply was merciless, clear as steel.

She didn’t even invoke her Word-Speech. Nidhogg pinned the struggling Little White Dragon with effortless grace, laid her on their bed like a petal on silk, and claimed Lilith’s lips again.

"I’ll spend this night showing you I love you. I know it’s your first time. I’ll be gentle."

Nidhogg bit lightly at the pale neck, leaving a faint mark, hardly visible, a promise under moonlight. Lilith shivered, her words kindling heat low in her belly. Her thighs pressed together, a reflex sweet as hidden fire.

The Little White Dragon, kissed until her limbs turned to water, lost her last chance to flee. She lay helpless on the bed as the Black Dragon pressed down like a mountain. Nidhogg left a mark on the other side of her neck, a bruise-dark moon. Lilith, too drained to resist, let her eyes close, despair falling like dusk. This is it—she’s done for, like a candle snuffed by wind.