The sun was in full tyranny mode, and my thighs were chafing.
We trudged down a road that was more dust than stone, no village in sight, just the occasional dead crow and a lot of nothing. The Dragon walked ahead, tail swaying in that arrogant arc like he owned the horizon. He was in a mood, or maybe just hungry. Hard to tell. Either way, I needed distraction.
So I started talking. As always.
"You know," I said, pulling a bit of twine from my pocket and playing with it, "back in Seebulba, every girl had at least one."
He didn't turn. Just rumbled, "One what?"
"One man who said he'd save her."
Still nothing.
I kept going. "There's always some soft-eyed merchant's son, or a bored noble slumming it, or a pious drunk who sees divinity in your thighs. They all say the same thing—'I'll come back for you.' 'I'll buy out your contract.' 'I'll make you my kept woman, my bride, my secret treasure.' Blah blah blah."
"You forgot 'goddess among mortals,'" the Dragon muttered.
"Oh, that one's standard," I said. "Usually comes with a poem. Or a rash."
He snorted.
I grinned, warming up. "There was Juleth, the gouty baron. Swore on his oaths he'd marry me after his third wife died. Then there was Tomerin—the spice heir. Made me swear to meet him at the harbor. I waited in my nicest dress. He ran off with Flame from across the alley. She had better tits, to be fair."
"I thought you hated sentiment," the Dragon said.
"I do," I said automatically. "Now."
He looked back at me. Briefly. Just long enough to raise a scaly brow. Then kept walking.
I sighed and kicked a pebble. "But when you're working the docks, the bathhouses, the cathouses… you hope. That's the trap. You hear stories. That one that knew that one who got married off to a traveling bard. That girl from the Red Sand brothel who caught a warlord's eye and now wears emeralds and sleeps on furs. That cousin of a cousin who got bought by a lonely prince and now lives in a tower and reads books."
"Lies," the Dragon said flatly.
"Of course they are. But we passed them around like candy. Sweet and bad for your teeth."
He glanced over his shoulder. "And you believed them?"
"Once," I said. "Just once."
Silence.
I kicked another rock. "He had dimples. And a laugh that made you feel like maybe the world wasn't a shithole. Said he'd come back with a carriage. Said he'd marry me in secret. Said I was his escape."
"And?"
I shrugged. "I waited all day. Even packed a little bag. The madam laughed so hard she pissed herself."
He didn't say anything.
I smiled, but it was the tight kind. The kind that tastes like copper. "So I stopped waiting. Stopped believing. Took what I could, when I could. Learned how to smile pretty and steal faster. And if someone whispered 'I'll save you,' I whispered 'pay first.'"
We walked a while. Just the crunch of road and the occasional flap of his wing to swat flies.
Then I said, "I think all of us, down in the sweat and silk, we had to make a choice. Either keep waiting for some hero, or become our own."
He glanced sideways. "You think you're a hero now?"
"No," I said. "But I'm the only one who came back for me."
Another silence.
Then: "You're also a terrible cook."
I laughed. "See? That's why I keep you around. To humble me."
"You're welcome," he said.
And we kept walking.
The dust behind us, the road ahead.
No hero in sight.
Just me.
And my dragon.
Which, frankly, was better.