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Countess Chloé had seen many wonders in her time. She had travelled to China to see the Great Wall stretch out across the mountains of Luanping. She had been to Benin City to observe the vast earthen moats, and from there travelled to see the Idanre Hills and their surrounding villages. She had seen the majestic Matterhorn in Switzerland and the incredible Taj Mahal in India. She had seen the Cliffs of Dover and Hạ Long Bay, she had seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Hagia Sophia. She had even seen her own vast palace, which rivalled Versailles in size and whose grounds would take hours to cross on foot.
And yet, none of those wonders could entirely compare to the vast white dragon that had now curled itself up around the fountain in her palace courtyard.
It was of the Chinese style, with a long scaled body upon short legs and an almost box-shaped snout, though the brief words it spoke as it landed were not Chinese. They may not even have been words, for all Chloé knew. There was a curly pattern along its back that looked like water, or winds, or clouds, light blues twisting from its neck to its tail.
Just its body, from belly to the ridge on its back, was at least fifty paces long and twice the height of a man; a single one of its legs was larger than Chloé. Its whiskers could have moored a barque. She could climb into its mouth, if not for the rows of teeth, if not for the fact that the dragon seemed to be sleeping. But it seemed to be most perspicacious and wise. Of course it would be — otherwise, why would it have landed in her gardens?
“Dupain-Cheng! Report!” she snapped, looking at the dragon’s closed eyes.
“She — seems to be weakened, Your Grace,” said the courtier, tapping her hand against the side of the dragon’s head.
“She?”
“She is a female dragon, Your Grace,” Dupain-Cheng went on. “I can’t tell what is wrong with her. I am only a trained doctor of humans, not supernatural creatures. But she appears to be very cold.”
Chloé tapped her fan against her chin a couple of times. A dragon — a dragoness — landed in her garden, right in front of her, and spoke to her. The dragon, whatever its name was, had looked her in the eye and spoken to her.
Perhaps it was the fan she was holding, which was gifted to her by the Qianlong Emperor himself, and portrayed a jade dragon in flight.
Or perhaps it was her natural charisma that had drawn in the dragon. Yes, it was probably that. A dragon couldn’t see the fan from so far up in the air, anyway.
“Bring her into the ballroom! Make it my — my dragon ballroom! I want it heated and lit, and I want the throne prepared!”
“Your Grace, the doors —”
“Lift them off their hinges, Dupain-Cheng! A dragon deserves the warmest welcome my palace can offer!”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The groundskeeper walked off to find a winch.
Chloé regarded the dragon carefully. Perhaps she could keep it as a pet, or an advisor. Perhaps she could have the most interesting conversation piece throughout all of Europe. An opportunity like this should not be squandered.
“You will be mine,” she murmured. “With you, I will win the attention of all Europe’s nobility.”
The dragon still slept. Chloé sighed. She would have time to come up with a better speech.
////////////////////////
“Dupain-Cheng! Have you found anything in your — books?”
The court scholar shook her head as she flipped through a musty tome. “No, Your Grace. There is nothing. I only have books on — on wyverns and on, on, on European dragons. There are myths about Chinese dragons, but I’ve never heard of any like this one. There is the Yóulóng but… I only know them in passing. You bind them by clothing them.”
“Bind it… to my service?” said Chloé. Dupain-Cheng nodded. “Then we should clothe it.”
“Your Grace, we cannot clothe this dragon.”
“Why not?”
“Because she is larger than your entire wardrobe combined, Your Grace, and mine as well.”
Chloé scoffed, fanning herself again. She looked again at the rolled-up monster that lay before her in the ballroom — no, not a monster. For the time being, at least, she was a welcome guest. A beast that took up the majority of floor space and whose horned head reached above Chloé’s perch on her throne, certainly, but a wise beast that spoke and carried magical omens. “She is not Chinese,” she said.
“No, Your Grace.” Dupain-Cheng sighed. “I will refer to her as Eastern as per your instructions, until she wakes to tell us otherwise.”
“When will she wake?”
“I do not know.”
“You’re useless, utterly useless! Argh!” Chloé clapped her fan shut and lobbed her glass of wine at the woman. It shattered and spilled red across the hardwood floor. “Clean that up, Dupain-Cheng! And bring me another one!”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said the maid and bartender, before scuttling off. Chloé turned back to the dragon’s face, observing it impatiently. They had made their greatest effort to heat the space — the two fireplaces were sparkling with flames, they had closed every aperture that wasn’t in use, and they had even draped some blankets over the dragon. And yet, the dragon felt cold to the touch.
At least, that was what Dupain-Cheng reported.
Chloé wasn’t used to doing any sort of labour for herself. But now that she was alone, it would be ridiculous for her to wait. Besides, she quite wanted to touch the dragon. It was beautiful, magnificent, a centre of attention for all future soirées and balls.
She got to her feet and walked forwards, slowly. Touching a dragon — putting her hand on that soft-looking nose — was noble. It was aristocratic. It was maybe even… royal.
It certainly wasn’t soft or an expression of compassion or any kind of emotion she might be feeling. Perish the ridiculous, ridiculous thought.
She stretched her hand out, and up, and put it on the dragon’s snout. It was… cold. Almost so cold as to be freezing.
Suddenly, the dragon’s eyes shot up.
“D-dragon!” said Chloé, taking a step back. “Welcome. Welcome to my — ballroom.”
The dragon lifted her head slightly. WARM she said, with a voice that sounded like a glacier scraping down a mountain, like the crackling of ice across a frozen lake. WARM
“I can tell you’re still cold,” said Chloé. “I shall have Dupain-Cheng, my architect, build a fire closer to you.”
NO TOO WARM TOO WARM
Chloé looked into the dragon’s eyes. They felt like glowing gouts of flame, except somehow frozen still in a flutter, as though a painter had managed to capture that light inside a still image and projected it onto the canvas of those gigantic sclera. For a moment, she lost herself — until she was struck by the realisation that she was being asked to do something. “You want to be colder?”
YES COLD MAKE ME COLD
“O-of course. I will make this room the coldest in the whole palace!”
At that point, the servant’s door opened, and Dupain-Cheng slid back inside with a glass of red wine on a tray. Which was fine, until the girl tried to close the door again.
“Leave that door open!” Chloé shrieked, so loudly that Dupain-Cheng dropped the tray on the floor in surprise. “And clean that mess up! But put out the fires first!”
“Your Grace —”
“We need to make the room cold!” Chloé strode away without waiting for any further protests — she knew the worst the butler would do was murmur under her breath while still doing what she was told. She reached the side doors that led outside and pulled them open, letting the after-sunset chill blow inside on the breeze, and then moved on to the next set of doors. To the hallways — all open; to the side rooms, also open. Behind her, she heard the splishy, hissing sounds of water hitting open flames.
She could feel the temperature going down. The dragon must surely be happy now — no! There were still blankets. She stomped over and started tearing the blankets off, as Dupain-Cheng poured water on the other fireplace as well. The smoke was a terrible bother and would surely stain the ceilings, and Dupain-Cheng would have to fix that in her capacity as the palace carpenter and chimneysweep, but that was an issue for later.
Chloé carried the blankets back to the throne and wrapped a couple of them around her own shoulders; the cool outside wind was really getting to her now. She took her place in front of the dragon and stared at her, at the perfectly fitted teeth and the giant closed eyes.
But then, without opening her eyes, the dragon simply breathed out through her nose. THANK sounded the dragon’s voice, and Chloé could swear that it didn’t come from outside and in through her ears, but rather like the sound exploded inside her brain. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable feeling, but it was almost… like a loss of control. Like something had invaded her.
As she watched the dragon go back to sleep, as she wrapped the blankets more tightly around her shoulders, she recalled an important problem: she had once again failed to come up with a good speech to wow the dragon.
Perhaps she would have more time now, before the dragon woke up again.
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She did not have time, because the chill of the air combined with the heat of the blankets she wrapped herself in made her fall asleep in her throne. She jolted awake an unknown amount of time later, but the sun was up and the room had the smell of an early afternoon seeping in. Even so, her face was almost stinging with cold, and Dupain-Cheng had also opened the windows through the night — while the winds didn’t directly reach the throne, they were still noticeable.
And there, in front of her, was the dragon. The dragon was watching her with an unreadable expression, possibly unreadable in part because of how — angular, how inhuman it was. Or no, it wasn’t inhuman; it was shaped differently from a human expression, but it was threaded through with humanity.
GOOD MORNING, said the dragon.
“... Good morning,” said Chloé. She glanced around. There was no breakfast tray. This was an unacceptable situation. “Dupain-Cheng!”
YOUR SERVANT IS PREPARING BREAKFAST.
“What? I didn’t ask her to do that!”
YOU TALK IN YOUR SLEEP. The dragon’s voice was unlike what it had been yesterday. It was no less deep and crackly, but it almost felt more confident today.
“You… sound different today,” she said, attempting to stifle a yawn — before pulling up a blanket to hide her face, because this was a yawn that wouldn’t be stifled and it would be unthinkable to let a wise dragon see her in that state.
I AM LEARNING YOUR LANGUAGE. I KNEW NONE OF IT YESTERDAY.
Chloé peeked over the blanket. The dragon still watched her impassively. “Wait… how are you learning? Has Dupain-Cheng been teaching you?”
I LEARN BY WATCHING MINDS.
“Are you… watching mine?” Normally, Chloé would have screamed and stomped her feet at even the suggestion that her mind had been invaded. But fear gripped her as she met the dragon’s shining eyes. She could be eaten, or bitten, or struck by powerful magic, or her mind could be torn apart, or even worse — her palace could be destroyed.
DOES IT BOTHER YOU?
For a moment, Chloé considered honesty. But there was too much pride on the line to admit fear. She pulled herself up higher. “No. I have nothing to hide. My mind is above reproach and most supreme and you may watch it as much as you like.”
(She didn’t consider that the dragon might watch her mind to find out that it bothered her, but if the dragon did so, she made no indication of it.)
“So. Dragon. Who are you? Where are you from?”
I AM… The dragon paused for a moment, as though looking for a word. I AM… KAGAMI. I AM FROM THE ICE IN EZO.
“Kagami.”
KAGAMI.
“Kagami.”
YES.
A gust of wind caught Chloé. She wrapped herself more tightly in her blankets, briefly entertaining the idea of shutting the doors and windows and telling Kagami to deal with it — but she couldn’t do that. She might lose her access to an actual dragon, to a conversation piece worthy of even the highest courts.
“Why do you need cold?”
I AM AN ICE DRAGON. A QUEEN OF ICE. HEAT MELTS MY BODY.
And Dupain-Cheng was still not here with breakfast. Chloé would need to ask her to bring in extra clothes, warm shoes, and perhaps a hot drink, when she arrived.
“Oh!” Chloé grumbled. “I can’t believe Dupain-Cheng wouldn’t tell me something so vital! I —”
At that point, there was a tinkling noise combined with a rustling noise. Chloé looked to the side and saw that Dupain-Cheng was pushing in a rolling tray. There was a large plate with a ceramic dome over it; there was a steaming cup of tea; there were two warm eggs wrapped in a cloth; there was a freshly made bread roll, also wrapped in a cloth. Not only that — on the lower tray there were thick furred boots, warm gloves, and a solid outer coat.
“Your Grace,” said the chef, and lifted the ceramic bell up. Underneath was a thick, steaming soup.
“... Very well,” said Chloé, waving her away. It was a little embarrassing not to have anything to complain about. She pulled the tray closer and picked up the spoon, preparing to eat.
I THANK YOU FOR YOUR HOSPITALITY, said Kagami. I SOUGHT TO ESCAPE SOMEONE WHO WOULD CAGE ME. I WISH TO REMAIN UNCAGED.
Chloé nodded fervently, mouth full of soup.
I TRAVELLED FROM EZO IN A SINGLE DAY’S FLIGHT. I HAD TO LAND SOMEWHERE, AND SAW YOUR COURTYARD. I WAS TOO TIRED NOT TO FALL ASLEEP. PLEASE ACCEPT MY APOLOGY.
“Apology? Pf,” said Chloé, spraying slightly damp bread from her mouth. “I was excited to see you.”
“Your Grace,” said Dupain-Cheng, “Ezo is the northern island of Japan.”
“I know that!” Chloé lied, waving her off. “Do not speak again until I let you.” Then she turned back to Kagami. “I apologise. She is my court cartographer and diplomat.”
I SEE. NEVERTHELESS, I AM GRATEFUL THAT YOU TOOK ME INSIDE. ON THE OUTSIDE I MIGHT HAVE BEEN SPOTTED.
Chloé nodded again, a little more wide-eyed. It was almost like she had a psychic connection to this dragon — she had done exactly what Kagami wanted. Other than make her warm, but that was Dupain-Cheng’s fault.
YOUR HOSPITALITY, AND THAT OF YOUR… SERVANT, IS MOST APPRECIATED.
“‘fcs,” said Chloé, swallowing the two words with half a breadroll. “I am nothing if not hospitable.”
I KNOW. HOWEVER… I NEED TO ASK YOU FOR ONE MORE FAVOUR. Kagami lifted her head up — and she almost knocked it into the vast chandelier above her, but a sixth sense seemed to stop her just in time. Then she bowed it down and closed her eyes. IF YOU CANNOT OFFER ME THIS FAVOUR, I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND.
“Name it,” said Chloé. She glanced aside at Dupain-Cheng, who was looking down at the floor.
WITHOUT THIS FAVOUR, I WILL HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER PALACE TO HIDE IN.
“Name it,” Chloé repeated, more eagerly this time. She put down her spoon so as to not interrupt her own answer with even more soup. What kind of favour could a dragon ask for? A den? Riches for her hoard? Dragon companions? Virgin sacrifices? Villages to burn and slaughter?
Well… probably not the last two…
Chloé swallowed. “If we can meet your request, we will.”
Kagami opened her eyes and nodded once. DO YOU HAVE CLOTHES, she said, less a question and more an open-ended statement.
“Clothes?” Chloé looked aside at Dupain-Cheng again. “We have clothes. Many, in fact. My court tailor and seamstress can provide you with anything you need.”
“Your Grace —”
“Shush!”
“But —”
I ONLY NEED ONE PIECE OF CLOTHING. SIZED FOR A HUMAN.
Chloé blinked. “Are you going to… eat it?”
NO.
The dragon closed her eyes again. Her whiskers lifted off the floor. The wind, dormant for the last little while, suddenly rattled the windows and ruffled through Chloé’s hair. Particles of snow seemed to form out of the air, whirling around Kagami, and the temperature of the room sank noticeably.
Then Kagami started to glow. It started from her underside, between her front legs, then burst out to cover all of her. The light subsumed all her features: her eyes, her scales, her teeth, her hairs, her claws, the swirling patterns of bright and cold colours on her back. It all became a bright even blue as the winds blew harder, spinning almost into a tornado.
And then the winds cooled, and the light grew smaller, and the snow fell slowly to the floor, and the light fell into the shape of a human and became a soft yellow.
And then the light vanished, leaving only a human woman who was dark-haired, muscular, a little bit short, and —
“K-Kagami!” said Chloé, rushing forward and pulling with her a blanket, which she threw over the woman’s shoulders. “Dupain-Cheng! Go to Sabrina’s old room and fetch out her finest gown!”
“Your grace,” said the seamstress, and walked off.
Kagami — now wrapped in a simple blanket that could only protect her modesty, and not at all against the biting cold — merely grabbed hold of the blanket and stepped away. Her face was not at all like the dragon’s she had only a minute ago; instead it was rounded, spotted, like a precious rock, like a costly ring. It looked like a question that demanded an answer.
“You’re beautiful,” said Chloé. Then she caught up with what she’d just said, and turned away with her arms folded. “Not as beautiful as me , of course. But I suppose you’re not too bad-looking.”
“Is that a compliment?” said — a voice, which had to be Kagami’s, because there was nobody else in the room. Chloé spun back around and saw the ex-dragon looking at her.
“Was that you?” she said, just to be certain.
“Was that a compliment?” Kagami repeated. She didn’t sound like thumping across thick ice in winter anymore, nor like the rumble of an avalanche down the slopes of Mont Blanc. Her voice rang like a normal person’s, except a person who was remarkable and interesting. It had warmth to it, and breath, and a firmness that didn’t sound like it would melt away at spring’s thaw.
“I… yes.” Chloé defiantly bit her teeth together. “You are beautiful, even if you do not compare to me.”
Kagami smiled faintly. Her hair was like a ball around her head. Her eyes no longer had irregular shapes, but they still glowed from the inside. “Am I more beautiful than Sabrina?”
Chloé winced. Her ex-wife, who left her a few months ago for that horrible Italian contessa Rossi, had been beautiful for a time, but not anymore. “Yes, you are certainly more beautiful than her. A hundred times. A thousand times, even.”
Her eyes met Kagami’s directly once more, and she realised that even ten million times would be an understatement. Kagami was more beautiful than the stars in a cloudless night sky, than the Taj Mahal and the Matterhorn together, than any other woman who had ever lived, than even Chloé herself. But she couldn’t admit that.
“And yes, that is a compliment.”
Kagami smiled conspiratorially. “You are very kind,” she said. For a moment, Chloé recalled that Kagami could read minds — and then she wished she hadn’t remembered that.
But they were interrupted that very same moment by the clacking of feet in the hallway, and the arrival of Dupain-Cheng. She was carrying perhaps Sabrina’s most gorgeous gown, a white jifupao with embroidered flowers and Chinese letters, the one Sabrina wore when — oh, nevermind, it was gorgeous. There were also underclothes and shoes, and a black-and-red belt.
And yet, it was Chinese and not Japanese and that was a terrible insult. “Dupain-Cheng, get another one! Right now!”
Kagami raised her hand and touched it to Chloé’s arm. “No — this is not an insult,” she said. “I like this gown.”
“You want it?” said Chloé. “Dupain-Cheng! Bring it here right now!” The housekeeper stopped mid-turn, and brought the jifupao back.
“Without human clothes, I revert back to dragon form,” said Kagami.
Dupain-Cheng froze. “Y– Yóulóng —”
“No. Ryū hōrō .”
“Shut up, Dupain-Cheng,” said Chloé, snatching the dress away from her. Then she turned to Kagami. “Kagami Ryhorow, I offer you this dress as a gift. In fact, I will offer you a whole wardrobe and a bed to sleep in, and the hospitality of me and my entire palace staff,” she stretched her hands out to indicate Dupain-Cheng, “for as long as you wish.”
She did not add, “And I will worship the ground you walk on” — because even thinking those words would announce them into Kagami’s head. But then Kagami smiled a little bit, and Chloé realised she had just thought the words in order to negate them, and she turned around rapidly and stomped back to her throne.
“You may have my lady’s maid Dupain-Cheng to help you get dressed. We will talk afterwards.”
Maybe she could think of a good speech this time, between all the flashes of embarrassment.
////////////////////////
Chloé did not think of a good speech. For one thing, the cold was starting to get to her again, so she had to wrap herself in blankets and put on the good boots and gloves and coat that Marinette had brought, as well as a blanket. And for another, whenever she thought about what to say to Kagami, she found her mind overwhelmed by images of Kagami’s brilliant shining face. It was so gorgeous that she couldn’t even string together five words in her head.
In the end, she sat down to observe the last of her breakfast, which had naturally long since gone cold. The two eggs, the cup of tea, and the last remnant of soup, all as nippy as the not-quite-freezing air.
Dupain-Cheng came over a short while later. She leant down to whisper in Chloé’s ear. “The Yóulóng are wandering dragons,” she said. “They live free in the clouds, but can shapeshift into humans. However, they will return to dragon form unless they are offered clothes. They will only do this if they are hunted… or if they have something they want. Because when you offer them clothes, you can command them. They are bound to your will.”
Chloé nodded. “Thank you, Dupain-Cheng.”
“I live to serve.”
A dragon. Under her command. Not only that, but a beautiful dragon. Yesterday, she had imagined herself owning Kagami. But now that she did, she was having second thoughts. To cage such a pretty woman in this palace forever…
And then Kagami stood in front of her, and Chloé tried to lean back casually in her throne, which she thought she was moderately successful at until she remembered that Kagami could watch her mind and hear her thinking that it was moderately successful, so that all went out the wide open windows straight away.
“This gown is lovely, Your Grace,” said Kagami, bowing in deference.
Chloé swallowed. The bow was good. Being bowed to was a sign of respect. Being called ‘Your Grace’ was a sign of respect. She was being recognised for her station, and for her generosity. She could enjoy that part.
“It is yours. Thanks are appreciated, but not necessary.”
“I deem them necessary.”
Chloé nodded, then cleared her throat. “Kagami… I understand that I can now give you commands. Now that I have offered you these clothes, I mean.”
Kagami’s smile fell, leaving only a measured and neutral expression. “This is true. Your wish is my command.”
Chloé would have been lying if she said it didn’t tempt her. She could become the talk of the whole French nobility. She could earn money for staff other than just Dupain-Cheng by offering tickets to see the dragon. She could ride the dragon to see sights and places she had never before visited.
But now that she saw Kagami — not as a dragon, but as a human, locked into a ceremonial dress and standing muted though wondrous before her — she knew that there was only one command she could possibly want to give. And it was a command that wouldn’t work. It certainly hadn’t worked with Sabrina. The only way she could give that command would be in the form of a request, a plea, a prayer, and to make that prayer she first had to give another command, because the prayer was just —
— love me .
“Kagami. White dragon. I… I release you from all obligations to follow my commands. You are here as my guest… and perhaps, I hope, as my friend.”
Kagami’s eyes started to glow again, after a moment’s dullness that vanished in a powerful gleam of orange. Her lips curved upwards. “Thank you, Your Grace. Your benevolence knows no bounds.”
Chloé frowned. She was so used to commanding people — but Dupain-Cheng was not bound to serve her by magical decree. Sabrina had left her because she had heard one command too many. To forgo the option at all felt right in one sense, but in another sense it felt like she had just slipped and fallen off a cliff. And she had no idea where she would land.
“Furthermore, Your Grace,” Kagami went on.
“Y-yes?”
“To answer the question you would not ask me… I will try.”
And the wind seemed to stop, and the rime seemed to melt, and the smile before Chloé seemed to carry her up into the clouds — where she might never need to come down from again.