They made sure to tie me up for the trip. My wrists were securely bound with rope and tied to the horse’s saddle, so that I could neither get off nor grab the reins, which for good measure had been tied to the saddle of another horse, and our captors took shifts guarding me, to forestall any escape attempt. Kyros was given the same treatment, except that he was bound in chains, which were wrapped around his upper body: their intended purpose, Robert told me under his breath one day when it was his turn to lead my horse, was to prevent Kyros from turning back into his dragon form. The disparity in treatment was because Robert, somehow, had managed to convince the other Knights that I was a completely normal human woman: he had been the only one looking directly at me the moment I’d accidentally breathed fire, back in the inn, and he kept insisting that Kyros had been the culprit instead of me – it only made sense, he was the dragon after all.

Somehow, out of a sheer stroke of luck, the thought that there could very well be two dragons hadn’t crossed anyone’s mind; except mine, of course.

How had I breathed fire, anyway? Was it a side effect of the magic turning me into a woman? If so, why would turning me into a woman also grant me the ability to breathe fire? Kyros could breathe fire when he was “small,” as he put it, but he was a dragon in human form. I was an ordinary human.

Was I?

Was I still human?

The quest I’d been set on by the Emperor’s command had changed me in more ways than I’d thought possible: it had turned my outlook on dragons completely on its head, since I no longer thought them to be simple mindless beasts; it had made me question, and eventually abandon, my loyalty to the Emperor; and it had even transformed my very body. Was my ability to breathe fire yet another change? If so, what else was I capable of?

I had no real way to determine that right at that moment, because I couldn’t well explore my body’s capabilities – I couldn’t try to breathe fire, for instance – lest I undo Robert’s deception and make the other Knights realise the truth. But still, I dwelled on that question a lot as we rode through the countryside, alternating being deep in thought with frowning at Kyros’ clear discomfort at being so tightly bound up: even though they’d allowed him to wear clothes, the metal links kept shifting with his every movement, and before long his skin had been rubbed raw in several places. I’d had half a thought to protest, to say that the chains were an undeserved humiliation, that Kyros wouldn’t try to run away in any case, but in the end I didn’t: I mentioned it to Robert, but he told me that when the Knights had held council, and discussed what to do with me and Kyros, they’d very quickly settled on two alternatives – it was either the chains, or they would kill Kyros outright and carry his corpse back to the capital.

Because that was where we were headed. After their council – in which, among other things, they’d reprimanded Robert for allowing himself to be deceived by me and Kyros – the Knights had decided to bring us both back to the starting point of my quest. Back to the Eternal Emperor.

And no matter if the dragon was in human form, and alive to boot: there would be time to kill him later, if the Emperor so commanded.

It was a long trip, of course, days and days of riding, being dragged along with the Knights, barely stopping to rest the horses, or to eat, or to sleep: the only times Kyros and I were allowed to dismount was at night, when the Knights, assisted by their squires, made camp.

I was allowed to sleep with my hands untied, always under someone’s watchful eye, while Kyros remained bound throughout the trip – I had to assist him with food and drink, and to pull the covers over him before he fell asleep; it made him seem incredibly vulnerable, which wasn’t helped by the fact that he seemed to take the treatment which was reserved to us, and to him especially, by our captors, without as much as a word of protest. It could’ve been worse, admittedly: they never hit us or hurt us deliberately, but they were quite rough in pulling us to our feet when the allotted rest time was over, in making us mount or dismount our horses, and in binding and unbinding my wrists when needed. The only one who was somewhat kind to us was Robert, and even then he could only do it whenever no one else was watching, which was a rare occasion.

Most of the time, however, the person who was tasked with keeping an eye on us was Edmund: since my former squire no longer had a master to attend to, he’d been unofficially appointed as our head guardian, along with two other boys – the former squires of Rhys and Ronan, who’d been killed in the forest by the bandits – whose names I didn’t know; the other two mostly kept to themselves, however, minding their own business and (unbefitting of future knights) leaving Edmund to do most of the work.

Edmund’s behaviour had markedly changed from the days we’d been together, though: he was no longer the bright-eyed young lad I knew; now he was sad and sullen, not even looking at me in the eyes whenever I tried to speak to him and never, ever speaking to me. I kept wondering why that was ever since we’d departed from Ziegental towards the capital, and a few days before we were due to arrive I got my answer.

“Halt,” the Boar Knight said; he peered at the sun, which was just about to set, and then turned his horse to face the rest of the group, pointing at a clearing beside the road. “It’s late enough. Let’s make camp.”

There were nods of agreement all around from the other Knights, and they all dismounted, leaving their horses in the care of their squires; Edmund dismounted from his horse, too – a mare, I noted, not a stallion – and led me and Kyros just off to the side of where the men were setting up camp. He tied our mounts to a small tree, untied the rope which bound my hands to the saddle, and helped me out of the saddle. I wordlessly held up my hands, and after a moment he sighed and unbound them.

“Thank you,” I nodded to him, rubbing my sore wrists.

“Don’t thank me,” he snapped. “You bloody monster.”

I looked at him, taken aback: there had been a surprising amount of venom in his voice, which had probably been building all the time during our ride. “I’m not a monster,” I replied.

“He is,” he said, stabbing his finger towards Kyros, who was still sitting on top of his horse. “And I don’t care if you’re human, you’re a monster too, for helping him.”

Suddenly, with a speed and violence which startled me, he reached up and pulled Kyros out of his saddle: the dragon was so surprised that he didn’t manage to stay mounted, and tumbled to the ground, yelping in pain – his hands were still tied to the horse, and they stretched and twisted in an awkward and painful-looking position as he fell, which wasn’t helped by the horse instinctively pulling away.

“Edmund!” I said.

“That’s right!” Edmund shouted, ignoring me; he drew his leg back, clearly about to kick at Kyros. “That’s what you deserve!”

“Edmund!” I snapped, and dove towards him, tackling him to the ground. “Edmund, calm down!” I said, shifting my body and positioning myself so I could pin his arms in a hold. “Calm down!”

My former squire struggled uselessly against me: I was still nearly as strong as a woman as I’d been as a man – strong enough to hold a boy, in any case. “Calm down!” I said again. “I–”

I suddenly felt the touch of cold steel against my neck, and froze. “Unhand the boy,” Duncan’s voice said. “Now, lass.”

I gulped, and let Edmund go; he scrambled away from me, and I twisted myself around to look up at the Boar Knight along the length of his sword. Behind him I could see Robert looking on, biting his lip, eyes darting from me to Edmund, a conflicted expression on his face. I knew what he was thinking: he really wanted to help his son, but in doing so he would only embarrass him further.

“I saw what happened. We all did,” Duncan said. “So you will not be punished this time. Don’t do it again.”

I slowly and carefully nodded while holding his gaze, and he nodded back; he lowered his sword.

“As for you,” the old knight added, turning to Edmund, “you should remember never to let your anger get the best of you. You must keep a clear mind.” He paused. “Now untie the dragon from the horse, start a fire, and fetch food and water for these two,” he said, gesturing to me and Kyros.

“But–” Edmund began to protest.

“You’re still a squire, boy,” Duncan cut him off as he sheathed his sword. “Even though your master is missing. Do as you’re told.”

Edmund hesitated for a moment longer, but then nodded, a chastised expression on his face. I followed as he walked over to Kyros, and together we pulled the dragon back to his feet; Edmund untied the rope that bound Kyros to the saddle, and stalked away sullenly.

“Well, that was–” Kyros began.

“Don’t,” I said, in a low voice. “The boy’s been through enough.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edmund pause as he walked towards his horse; I shook my head, and helped Kyros sit down on the ground.

The next day passed much as the previous days had: we got onto our horses in the morning, rode the whole day, and got off in the evening. The whole time, Edmund didn’t say anything, but I could see he kept stealing glances at me.

Once again, we stopped for the night. Edmund and the other squires had gotten several small fires going: I set up my bedroll and Kyros’ near one of them, and we sat down to have our dinner. The Knights, as always, kept an eye on us from around their campfires, with their loaded crossbows sitting nearby so we wouldn’t even consider running away. I felt uneasy just looking at them, so Kyros and I sat down with our backs to them. We usually ate alone, the squires leaving as soon as they’d given us our scarce rations; that night, though, Edmund unexpectedly sat down at our campfire: he placed himself across the fire pit from us, and kept looking at me and Kyros – but especially at me – as we ate in silence.

“Thank you for the food,” I said after I swallowed the final bite of bread and salted meat. “It was good.”

“Shame that there are no veggies to go with it,” Kyros added. “But we can’t well go foraging in the woods, what with…” he gestured over his shoulder, in the general direction of the Knights.

I nodded in agreement. “And they don’t even have any pickled vegetables, either. Or if they have, they’re not giving us any.”

Edmund frowned. “Who are you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I replied, looking at him. “You know who I am. You must’ve been told. My name is Constance.”

“Right. Lady Constance.”

“Just Constance,” I said.

“Why are you helping the dragon, Lady Constance?” Edmund said. “He’s a monster. He killed my master.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Kyros protested.

“Didn’t you?” Edmund rebutted. “I was there. I saw it clearly. You grabbed Sir Adrian and carried him away, only to return the day after, disguised, with her.” He pointed at me. “So you must’ve done something to Sir Adrian.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“He’s telling the truth, Edmund,” I said.

“How do you know my name?” Edmund asked.

I blinked. “What?”

“It took me a while to realise it. Yesterday, too, when you grappled with me, you called me Edmund. I never told you my name.”

“You must have,” I said. “Or I must’ve overheard it.”

“You couldn’t have,” he rebutted. “None of the Knights use my name. I’m just boy or squire to them. And let’s not even mention what the other squires call me.”

“Well then, I must’ve heard it from your father,” I said; I twisted my body around and scanned the other campfires until my eyes landed on Robert: he wasn’t looking in our direction, and was deep in conversation with another Knight. I turned back to Edmund.

“Alright.” Edmund paused for a long moment, and then his eyes narrowed. “And how do you know Sir Robert is my father?”

I looked back at him, at a loss for words.

“And why do you look so familiar to me? The way you walk and move, the way you speak. Right now, you even talked about vegetables. I’ve only met one person before who liked vegetables so much they would go out of their way to buy some. And he taught me to appreciate them, even when pickled.” He paused. “It’s a shame we didn’t go back to that village where we bought the vegetables, though, I’m willing to bet the boy he gave a coin to would like to see him again. He was a good kid. Stefan.”

“Steven,” I reflexively said, and immediately regretted it; I closed my eyes and sighed deeply.

“Right. Steven,” Edmund said. “The boy’s name was Steven.”

There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the low sound of conversation drifting to us from the other campfires.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out.

Kyros chuckled, and when he spoke I could hear the mirth in his voice. “You told me he was a good kid, but I didn’t think he was also this bright.”

“Takes after his father, I guess,” I said with a smile. “They both figured it out more or less the same way.”

“My father knows?” Edmund asked.

“Your father knows,” I confirmed with a nod.

“Right.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, “What happened to you, Sir Adrian?”

“He happened,” I said, bumping my shoulder against Kyros’. “After I was stabbed in the chest – remember that? – he used his blood to heal me, which had the side effect of…” I gestured at myself.

“Yes, but I recall you were stabbed because you tried to protect the dragon.” He looked at Kyros, and then back at me again. “Why did you do that anyway?”

I hesitated; the three of us had been talking very quietly, to avoid anyone overhearing us, but this was the first time Edmund – or anyone else, for that matter – had spoken at length with me and Kyros since we’d departed from Ziegental. It wouldn’t be long before the Knights and the squires would start to get suspicious. In fact, I realised as I turned around and ran my eyes over the campfires again, several of the men and boys were looking at us.

“Ask your father,” I said. “He will explain.” I knew I could trust Robert to tell Edmund the whole story.

Edmund held my gaze for a moment; he glanced over my shoulder, and likely realised what I’d been thinking, since he nodded. “I will ask my father, then.”

I nodded back at him, and we didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night.

The following day Edmund talked for a while with the other squires, bargaining for some time in which they would watch me and Kyros, while he slipped away to ride beside his father; they were ahead of us in the caravan, so I could see them talking with each other under their breaths while we made our way to the edge of the plains the capital city sat on.

Before we made camp for the night, Duncan ordered the three masterless squires – which included Edmund, of course – to ride ahead, and announce to the Emperor that his Knights would be returning the following day, with two prisoners in tow; my former squire gave me one final look before spurring his horse to the gallop, and disappearing behind a copse of trees.

One more day of riding, and we were there, right back where my quest had started: the capital city. The Eternal Emperor’s throne room.

This occasion was less formal than the last time I’d been there: everyone – Knights, squires, and Kyros and I as prisoners – walked in, and when we reached the middle of the room, we all got to our knees, with me helping Kyros, since his movements were still limited by his binding.

“Your highness,” Duncan said loudly, “your Imperial Guard is at your service.”

“Welcome, my Knights,” the Emperor replied; then, after a moment’s pause, he continued, “There are fewer of you than I expected to see.”

“Three of us went missing during our mission, sire,” Duncan said. “Ronan the Sword Knight, Rhys the Lion Knight, and Adrian the Egg Knight. There are nine of us remaining.”

“That is easily remedied. Their squires are here, are they not?” the Emperor asked.

“They are, sire.”

“Very well; they will be the new Sword Knight, Lion Knight, and Egg Knight.”

“But sire,” Duncan protested, “besides the Egg Knight, the other two had heirs. They should–”

“My decision is final,” the Emperor said. “There will be time for a formal investiture in the coming days, of course, but for the time being, I should hear how your mission went.” He paused again. “Everyone, leave us.”

At his command, everyone except the Knights filed out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

“You may rise,” he said, and he removed his mask, to the gasps of the three newly-minted knights – they had, of course, never seen the Emperor’s face before. He stepped toward us, his yellow, slitted eyes gazing intently in our direction, looking carefully at everyone, until they landed on Kyros.

The Eternal Emperor smiled a predatory smile, his sharp teeth glinting in the light of the torches.

“I see you’ve brought me a gift.”