Streaking lazily over mountains of gold and glittering treasures, I felt magnificent. The gentle caress of gold and gemstones against my scales sent me straight to the ninth heaven.

  I opened my eyes to watch the scantily clad underlings carrying in row after row of exquisitely prepared dishes meant to delight my taste buds. In the background, a troupe of beautiful minions performed an intricate dance to please my eyes and soothe my mind.

  I picked up a small morsel and let my gaze linger on the dancers, appreciating their earnest effort to please me.

  There was no trace of lust in my regard for their scantily clad forms, merely the appreciation of a connoisseur for healthy, beautifully shaped bodies and the art they attempted.

  They were trying, poor things, to imitate my immense grace with their sinuous, serpentine movements, but to no avail. No human or humanoid could ever hope to match my elegance. Perhaps the salacandre dancers, those half-human, half-serpent creatures, might come close.

  Everything was in perfect harmony with the world, and my mood could only improve.

  I knew it was a dream, yet I wished it would never end. Unfortunately, even here, deep inside my den, sunlight managed to sneak in, disturbing my sleep.

  I yawned.

  Half asleep, I knew I’d soon wake and discuss my dream with the other dragons. They always had their opinions about how to manage thralls and lesser minions, but naturally, my way was the best.

  I blinked, irritated by the persistent rays. Wait a minute… do I even have a den? Drat! Of course not, I have a castle. And that castle is too small for me. No wonder these accursed sunbeams can reach me. I’ll simply have to dig a proper den beneath it, spacious enough for me and my treasures, dark enough to spare my eyes from this insolent daylight!

  I stretched, yawned again, opened my eyes... and saw that lovely bit of bone in front of me.

  I chuckled at my own cleverness for keeping it there, grinned, and began to chew. Nothing starts the day quite like gnawing on an old, delightfully stinking bone.

  It didn’t last long. The marble-block-sized morsel, easily twice the size of the little minions scurrying about in the courtyard, crumbled to paste between my teeth in no time.

  I swallowed and glanced around.

  Yes, there they were, my diligent little minions, busying themselves with some kind of work. Or at least they had been. Most were now frozen mid-motion, staring up at me in silent terror. A few bolted for the nearest building and vanished behind paper-thin walls. As if such flimsy things could hide them from me!

  I chuckled, satisfied. The sound of my teeth crunching the bone seemed to have frightened them, but that was to be expected. Even if it slowed their work a little, it wasn’t a bad thing in the grand scheme of matters. Fear is, after all, an essential element of control, one that must occasionally be exercised with minions and other such small folk. They have an unfortunate tendency to do foolish things, like pilfering coins from one’s treasure hoard if one grows too lenient.

  We had discussed this, the other dragons and I. They often questioned what I hoped to achieve by cultivating so many minions around me.

  The Matriarch—on the rare occasions she deigned to speak with me—had even warned against it. Nothing good comes of such meddling, she said. Other dragons had tried mingling with humanoid societies, and it had always ended badly, if not catastrophically so.

  But no, this time would be different, I insisted. She merely rolled her eyes.

  “Finally, you’ve woken up!” someone exclaimed.

  I blinked, surprised. An elf? Where were my fellow dragons?

  She was standing very close, far too close. I tilted my head to get a better look at her. They all look alike, these little folk: two eyes, two ears, one nose, and that small opening they call a mouth. One must look carefully to tell them apart. Yet as I studied her, something stirred in my memory. That golden hair… I knew that golden hair!

  I closed my eyes, trying to recall the last time I’d spoken with her. It felt so very distant.

  Had this little one been sleeping here with me? Even if not, she must be either insane or one of my favorites, how else could she have survived standing this close? I never tolerate anyone so near me, even in slumber, unless I trust them completely.

  I chuckled as I regarded her. Ah, perhaps she’s my court jester. Yes, that would make sense. I must have a court, am I not their queen? Or something very much like it?

  I huffed, raising waves of dust across the courtyard, and tilted my head as recognition lit my eyes.

  “Hey, Ju! I had a good nap,” I said in the dragon tongue, stretching and lifting my head just enough to peer over the castle walls.

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  At the sound of my voice, several of the slaves in the courtyard, and even a few inside the castle, promptly fainted. But Ju stood her ground. There’s a reason she’s my favorite.

  Memories swirled hazily in my mind. I was still a little confused. When had I returned to my castle? The last thing I remembered was being in the mountains with the others, Sid had introduced me to the Golden Matriarch. There had been five other dragons in their collective, one of them a magnificent blue ice dragon...

  I sighed, my lashes fluttering at the memory. He had been such a beautiful one, his azure scales shading almost to white along his crested, horned head, deepening to storm-gray near his belly and tail.

  Then my thoughts ground to a halt. Wait a minute, Sid? Where’s Sid?

  I stirred and reached out, sensing my domain. There he was, in his den beneath the tower, still asleep. I blinked, puzzled. If Sid was still there, sleeping peacefully, did that mean he hadn’t been with me in the mountains after all? So… those were only dreams?

  I let out another long sigh. Beautiful dreams, though.

  “I don’t understand you, Your Highness. Would you be so kind as to speak a human language?” the elf said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I tilted my head to look at her. She had spoken politely and with proper etiquette, but was that irony in her tone? Ah, yes. Ju was definitely the court jester.

  She went on, bold as ever, not even waiting for leave to speak, while pointing toward a pair of maids who had been carrying laundry to the washhouse.

  “And perhaps lower your voice, Your Majesty, you made those poor girls faint.”

  More contradictory thoughts drifted through my slowly rebooting mind. Near the castle, a small boy was frantically waving a red flag. Where had he come from? The sight triggered another half-buried memory.

  I sighed. In any case, I couldn’t possibly torture my tongue to speak that crude language in dragon form. If I wanted to communicate with my minions, I’d have to transform into a lesser shape, something that could interact with them on their own level.

  I closed my eyes and summoned the transformation spell. A heartbeat later, I was human. Or nearly so, as human as my majestic form could be persuaded to become.

  Pleased with the result, I lazily licked my fingers clean of the last scraps of bone still clinging to them, my long, sharp tongue doing a perfectly thorough job.

  Then I raised my gaze and grinned at Ju, doing my best to ignore the little boy with the red flag. What was that about again? Oh, yes, something to do with my aura. With a mild effort, I adjusted it.

  “Why is your body covered with scales?” the jester muttered.

  I blinked, surprised by such a ridiculous question. What kind of question was that? My body is covered with scales because it is covered with scales. That’s simply how my body is: strong, beautiful, and properly protected. Only my extremities, hands and feet, were left bare, so I could better interact with delicate objects. I focused on lowering my aura further, so I could better engage with these fragile little people.

  “Is your transformation spell unstable, or did you modify it?” she asked.

  The boy switched his flag from red to orange, and I grinned in satisfaction.

  What was that she said? Unstable?

  I conjured a mirror into the air and examined myself carefully. My eyes swept over that flawless silhouette, and I smiled, pleased with what I saw. Even in this form, I had preserved some of my draconic majesty—why would I ever degrade myself to look exactly like them? The spell was perfectly stable. My face was unscaled, but a graceful line of scales traced down my neck, disappearing into my hair where my horns rose.

  Satisfied with the sight, I huffed contentedly.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked the jester.

  She gulped. Shock flickered across her face. Was that part of her act, or was she genuinely stunned?

  She sighed.

  “So this wasn’t intentional, it just happened?” She shook her head. “I told you, you stretched your soul too far. Even druids struggle with a single transformation, and that alone changes their behavior. I think your dragon persona is influencing your mind and soul!”

  I snorted. What an astute observation. She declares the obvious as though she’s uncovered some great cosmic truth.

  “Now stop playing the fool, little jester, and tell me whether I have any tasks to attend to in my project with the little people.”

  Perhaps that wasn’t quite how I usually spoke to them, but since it was only the jester and me, I could afford to be frank.

  She drew in a deep breath.

  “There’s a delegation of orcs from your kingdom who wishes to speak with you, an elven envoy from Astara—one of the southern kingdoms—and Baron Esterghom is also waiting for an audience, as well as your friends from Earth. Oh, and Drackar and Alice are hoping to see you once you’re awake, Your Highness.

  “But, if I may be so bold… before you meet them, perhaps you should allow your maids to wash and dress you, as is the human custom. And, pardon me if I speak too frankly…”

  I raised a brow. “You may.”

  “You have… ahm, perhaps a little bit of… your majesty… ahm… you ate that putrid bone that’s been in your claws for many days, Your Highness, and—well—it rather smells… urgh…”

  I snorted. How terribly sensitive these little people are, to make such a fuss over a single, delightfully aged bone! Still, I was magnanimous. Turning my head slightly, I exhaled a brief wave of dragon breath, scorching the ground and cleansing my mouth in the process. The jester flinched, staring at me as though I’d set the world on fire.

  “There,” I said. “That should do it. And really, you don’t have to say ‘Your Highness’ so often. Even by protocol, it grows tiresome after a while.”

  Her brows rose.

  “I was merely treading on the safe side, my lady—trying not to get blasted before you were fully awake. I can smell only scorched earth now… and other scorched things. Thank you, my lady.”

  I sighed and shook my head at her antics.

  “You’re my lovely little jester; don’t worry, I won’t do you any lasting harm. So—‘days,’ you said? How many days did I sleep?”

  She rolled her eyes, an act I magnanimously allowed.

  “Very comforting, my lady. You slept a full Kargath’s quarter: eight days.”

  That was actually a rather short sleep, though I knew I had woken early for a reason. There was a deadline I needed to act upon.

  “How about that little girl, Tina?”

  “She’s in Uldaman, waiting for you to pick her up. The Kingdom has done its part.”

  I exhaled in relief, though I couldn’t help sighing again. I could have slept longer. What a pity I’d hurried my digestion.

  “Good. Send the maids to dress me here, and tell everyone I need to meet to wait in the main salon on the ground floor.”

  “Here, my lady? In full view?”

  I tsked softly, mildly annoyed.

  “I’ll make a smoke screen. Don’t concern yourself with that—just see that the meeting is prepared.”

  “I’ll do so. You wish to meet them all together, my lady?”

  I shrugged.

  “That’s the most efficient way, I suppose. I have a few points to raise with that elf emissary anyway. They owe me a wyvern!”