Chapter 3 Azrael
Mara stood frozen at the edge of her own sitting room, staring down at the creature sprawled across her floorboards. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Small tremors ran down her arms no matter how tightly she pressed her hands together.
She had unlocked a dragon. A shapeshifting dragon.
And worse than the wings folded against her wall or the claws resting inches from her favorite rug was the simple fact that no one could ever find out. No one in Bellweather could learn what had happened in this room tonight.
Keeping a dragon within the town walls was not a small offense. It was forbidden—the kind of crime that came with punishment severe enough that no fairy in her right mind risked it.
“Oh stars. Oh stars, what am I going to do.” Mara paced the length of the room, fingers dragging through her hair until it tangled around her knuckles.
She began regretting, with a speed that surprised even her, ever opening that door.
“I should have let him freeze,” she muttered, slapping a hand against her forehead. “I should never have let him in. Then I wouldn’t be standing here with an unconscious dragon taking up my whole bedroom floor.”
She looked at him again—the sheer size of him stretched across the boards—and swallowed. “I have to get rid of him. The question is how.”
The room had gone strangely warm. The storm outside seemed to have lost all its bite, as though the snow itself didn’t dare come near her windows. Whatever cold Bellweather could throw at her house stood no chance against the heat pouring off the creature on her floor.
A thought struck her. He was alive. He was only weak.
She hurried to the kitchen and began pulling jars down from the shelf. “If I make him a proper restoration tea, he’ll be back on his feet in no time,” she said to the empty room. “And then I can send him on his way.”
Her hands worked fast—crushing cocoon bloom, measuring raspberry powder, adding a few drops of fate’s potion and a torn hibiscus leaf. She watched the steam curl up from the pot, filling the room with its sweet scent. The liquid turned purple as she forced herself to wait until it was ready.
“This is it, Mara,” she told herself, pouring the tea with hands that weren’t quite steady. “This ends the mess you made for yourself tonight.”
She crept back toward the center of the room. Every scrap of courage she had gathered left her the moment she got close enough to see the true scale of him.
“What if he wakes up and breathes fire on me before I even get the cup to his mouth,” she whispered. The tea sloshed near the rim, splashing on her skin, but she couldn’t feel it.
She took one more step anyway and gave a small, resigned shrug.
“Well. That would be a fitting end to my unlucky life.” She shut her eyes, murmured a quick prayer to the goddess of the moon and stars, and lowered herself to her knees beside him.
Carefully, she pressed two fingers just beneath his nostrils.
His mouth fell open on its own.
“Good.” She tipped the cup gently against his lips. “Drink. You’ll be fine.”
The tea slid down his throat in slow swallows until the cup ran empty. Mara pushed herself back to her feet and stood hugging the empty cup, waiting.
Nothing happened.
“Oh, please wake up.” Her voice cracked. “Please tell me this tea isn’t a complete waste of—”
“AHHCHOO!”
The sneeze tore out of him with such force that it knocked Mara clean off her feet. She landed hard, groaning, one hand pressed to her hip.
She pulled herself up slowly, wincing.
His eyes fluttered open. Piece by piece, he changed. Claws drew back into fingers. The wings folded inward and vanished beneath his skin. The tail shrank away until nothing remained of it. What lay on her floor was simply a man. A very large, very naked man with the silver markings still glowing.
“Oh, sky gods.” Mara whipped her head to the side so fast her neck ached.
“One second,” she muttered, and bolted for the door.
She took the stairs down to the shop two at a time. The blanket the old elf had used still sat folded on the table. She snatched it up and ran back.
“Wrap this around yourself.” She threw it in his general direction without looking, face turned firmly toward the wall.
He caught it against his chest. “Thank you.” His eyes, green and steady, stayed fixed on the side of her face.
There was more he wanted to say. She could feel it in the silence, the way his breath caught before every word. Whatever it was stayed lodged behind his teeth.
Slowly, she turned back around.
“You should leave,” she said.
“F… food.” The word came out broken in half. “I… I’m hungry.”
Two hours later, Mara sat with her arms crossed, watching the strange man devour everything she owned in the way of food. He ate like something starved, scraping the last of the beans from his plate before lifting his eyes to hers, then flicking them pointedly toward the empty pots.
More.
He didn’t say it aloud. He didn’t have to.
Mara stared at the empty pots. Then at his face. Then at the last piece of bread she had in a corner. “Unfortunately, that’s all this poor house has to offer.” She kept her arms folded tight.
“I-I’m sorry.” He set the empty plate down carefully. “It appears I have emptied your stores.” He paused, then added quietly, “A hundred years sealed in that vessel left me… starving.”
Mara blinked. “A hundred years? How is that even possible?”
He let out a slow breath. “I… I need to g-go home.”
“Where is your home?”
He opened his mouth. Nothing happened.
His gaze dropped to his hands. “I…” He closed his eyes, reaching for something that wasn’t there. “I don’t remember.”
Mara sank into her chair and studied him for a long moment before she laughed, short and disbelieving. “You’re joking.”
He said nothing.
Mara smiled. “You are not serious, right?”
But his face stayed exactly as it was. Still. Serious.
Mara’s smile faded. “You really don’t remember anything?”
He shook his head.
The room went quiet until he spoke again. “I remember only my name. Mmmmy name is Azrael.”
Mara rubbed her palms slowly together. “Well, Azrael. You need to be on your way now.”
“Why?” Something flickered behind his eyes.
“Why?” She looked at him like he’d asked something absurd. “You’re a man, Azrael. I can’t have you living here.”
He blinked, clearly lost.
“In Bellweather, a man and a woman do not live under the same roof unless they’re married.”
His face shifted. For the first time since the ash had settled, he smiled. “Then let us marry.”
Mara stared at him. “Are you out of your mind? You’re a dragon. Do you want to get me killed?”
“I… I…” He swallowed hard. “P-please.”
“Get out of my house. Now.”
He rose slowly from the couch. “W-where would I go?”
“Not my problem.” She turned away. “You can go anywhere in this world. Just not here.”
“P-p-please… just l-let me stay.”
Mara hesitated, thinking of everything Bellweather would say about her if anyone so much as suspected a man had spent the night beneath her roof.
“No.” She shook her head. “Leave now. I cannot keep you here a moment longer.”
“O-okay.” He sighed, wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and walked out through her door.
She watched him go, eyes following the faint glow of the markings still visible beneath the blanket until the door swung shut.
“What a strange man,” she muttered, tossing the fire poker aside. It clattered against the hearth.
For a long moment she stood still in the quiet. The memory of his face rose up before she could stop it. She squeezed her eyes shut, drew in a slow breath, and made herself walk back to the couch.
She had barely sat down when a knock sounded at the door.
“Coming.” She was already moving, half certain it was her friend Corina. But the moment the door swung open, it was a pair of green eyes waiting on the other side.
“Go away.” She tried to shove the door shut.
“W-wait.” He caught it with one arm. “I… can help you.”
Mara’s brow drew together. “Help me with what?”
“I can help you awaken your magic.”
She nearly laughed, but something in his face made her hold it back. “I don’t have magic.”
“You do.”
“No. I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Azrael, I have lived in Bellweather my entire life. I know what I am and what I’m not.”
His eyes held hers. He blinked once, slowly. “You don’t know everything… about yourself.”
She went still. He lifted one hand slightly toward her, close enough that she could feel the warmth without him ever touching her skin.
“Your magic is dormant,” he said.
“Dormant?” Her brow rose. “How did you know?”
He scratched the back of his head, searching for the words. “Sleeping. Um… I felt your energy.”
Mara stared at him. Her fingers tightened around the doorframe.
“You really think I have magic?”
“I know you do.”
Her eyes lifted to his. “What kind?”
His expression turned careful. He tapped his leg once against the floor. “I… don’t know yet.”
“Oh.”
“But I can help you find it.”
Mara held her breath.
For years she had believed there was nothing inside her worth finding. And now a strange dragon with a stutter and a hundred missing years stood on her door
step, looking at her as though he could see something everyone else in Bellweather had somehow missed.
It sounded ridiculous.
It also sounded like the first real chance she had ever been given.
