“I really do must commend you, Sir Duncan,” the Emperor said, keeping his rapacious gaze fixed on Kyros. “When I asked you to bring me the dragon’s heart, I did not expect you to bring it back still alive and beating; capturing an entire dragon is no small feat. You’ve done me a great service.” He smacked his lips, and his grin, if at all possible, became even wider and more predatory. “It has been so long since I’ve had a live one.”

“Thank you, sire,” Duncan said, and he bowed deeply, though I could hear the frown in his voice; indeed, his next words were, “I don’t understand, though: what do you mean by ‘a live one’?”

“You need not concern yourself with that,” the Emperor replied, waving one of his hands dismissively, but still not looking at the Boar Knight: he stepped towards Kyros, and cupped his chin with his other hand, gazing deeply into the dragon’s eyes. “Yes, indeed,” he murmured, “an excellent specimen.”

I’d kept quiet until then, but I just couldn’t any longer: something snapped inside me, and I stepped forward, growling, “Don’t you fucking touch him,” at the Emperor.

“Steady now, lass,” Duncan said, turning towards me, hand on the pommel of his sword, as two Knights – one of them Robert – grabbed my arms to stop my advance.

I looked at him, then back at the Emperor. “But–” I began to say, trying to take another step forward.

“Steady, I said,” Duncan repeated; I felt Robert tighten his grip on my arm, in an unspoken message – Don’t do it, Adrian.

“And what’s this?” the Emperor said, letting go of Kyros’ face and turning to face me. “Who is this woman?”

“She said her name is Constance, sire,” Duncan replied, “but we do not know anything about her beyond that. We have brought her here because she tried to help the dragon escape. Unsuccessfully, of course.”

“I see,” the Emperor said; he stepped away from Kyros, walking towards me until he stood in front of me, and he leaned in and peered at me closely, his eyes narrowing. Then his face brightened suddenly, and he leaned back with a smile. “Oh, yes, I see!” he exclaimed. “What a wonderful surprise! I almost didn’t recognise you, Sir Adrian.”

There was a brief moment of silence in the throne room; then the Knights started murmuring, all at once – all, except for Robert, whom I could feel stiffen, and Edmund, who looked at me worriedly.

“Sir Adrian?” Duncan said, looking from me to the Emperor and back again, and fixing his gaze on my face; he stared at me, his eyes narrowing like the Emperor’s had done.

I sighed, and nodded. “Yes, Duncan, it’s me.”

“…Adrian?” Duncan repeated, disbelief evident in his voice and on his face. “Adrian, what’s happened to you? Why do you look…?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” I said.

“It’s not long at all,” the Emperor said. “A shapechange such as this can only be brought about by contact with a dragon’s blood, which I guess is what happened, is it not?” I turned my head to look at him, gave him a hesitant nod, and he continued, “Yes, I thought as much. But it’s bizarre; usually it takes much longer for the blood to affect one’s appearance, and they take on draconic aspects as a result. But that didn’t happen. Hm.”

He tilted his head to the side, and gave me a curious look.

“Sir Duncan, do you happen to know if Sir Adrian has been injured recently?” he asked.

It took a few moments for Duncan to shake himself, so surprised he was to learn of my true identity. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, he has. He was stabbed through the chest – through the heart. Then the dragon took him and carried him away.” He paused. “We believed him lost.”

“What happened is clear, then!” the Emperor said brightly. “Dragon’s blood has strong curative powers, so Sir Adrian must’ve used it to heal his injuries; that would explain the change in appearance.” He smiled a sardonic smile. “I always thought you to be very manly, Sir Adrian, but perhaps the magic saw that manliness as an illness to be cured? I wonder.” He paused. “But I’m getting ahead of myself, there will be time to determine that – and to experiment – later on. For now…”

He turned his back to me, and faced Kyros again; after a moment, he reached inside his robes, and drew out a long, wicked-looking dagger. He stepped towards the dragon.

“What are you doing?” Kyros asked; he tried to step back, away from the Emperor, but two Knights, standing behind him, held him in position.

“Oh, nothing much,” the Emperor said. “I’m only going to take what is rightfully mine.”

“No!” I shouted, as the Emperor plunged the knife into Kyros’ chest; the dragon collapsed to the floor, and with a surge of strength I didn’t know I had, I managed to shake off the hold on my arms and rush towards the Emperor. I only made it a few steps, though, before a Knight tackled me to the floor. “Kyros!” I shouted as I struggled vainly; the only reply was a low, weak moan.

Incredibly, the Emperor chuckled as he turned back towards me. “Amusing. You really do care about it, don’t you? A friendship between man and dragon! Almost unheard of, the last time I’ve witnessed such…” He waved his hand dismissively. “Centuries ago. It was a different time; I didn’t think it could happen ever again, but it did, to one of my Knights, even. And speaking of that, I think I should reward you for your years of loyal service, Sir Adrian, even though you turned against me at the very end. Therefore…”

He moved towards me until he stood right before me, and looked down at me.

“I will do you the courtesy of letting you share your friend’s fate,” he said, gesturing with the dagger, which was red and glistening with Kyros’ blood. “Pull him up.”

It took a moment for the Knights to realise the meaning of the Emperor’s words; the Knight who was holding me pulled me to a standing position, though I could feel him hesitating – and the hesitation seemed to be widespread among the Knights. “Sire, I don’t think–” Duncan began.

“Get away from her.”

Stunned silence fell in the throne room as we all turned towards the source of the voice.

“I beg your pardon?” the Emperor asked.

Edmund took a deep breath, drew his sword from its sheath with a silky sound, and held it in front of him with trembling hands. “Get away from her, I said.”

“Edmund…?” I heard Robert’s voice say; as for myself, I could only stare in stunned silence at my former squire.

“Have you taken leave of your senses, boy?” the Boar Knight barked. “Lower that sword right now!”

Edmund shook his head. “I’m not a boy, Sir Duncan. I’m a squire. And as such, I owe loyalty to my master.” His eyes flitted briefly to me, then his gaze returned to the Emperor. “I won’t let you hurt Sir Adrian, sire.”

Duncan paused, seemingly considering his next words carefully. “You’re right, Edmund, squires do owe loyalty to their masters,” he said, in a soft, kind tone of voice. “But you’re forgetting that you’re not a squire any longer; you’re a Knight now.”

“Then, as a Knight, I owe loyalty to my friends,” Edmund insisted, and then he gulped, and raised his blade higher. “And I won’t let anyone hurt a friend of mine.”

Duncan had nothing to say in return; he just shook his head, but there was newfound respect for Edmund in his eyes.

“Well then,” the Emperor said, turning fully to face the new threat. “This is unexpected. I’ve not had a Knight betray me in quite some time, and now two of them do so in quick succession. Two Egg Knights, even.” He stepped briskly towards Edmund – who gulped again, but did not step back – and stopped right in front of him, fully into the reach of his sword. “Lower the sword and apologise, child, and I will be generous and let you live.”

Edmund grit his teeth. “No,” he said.

The Emperor shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

His free hand curled into a fist and moved at blinding speed, smacking Edmund right on the side of his face; Edmund lost his grip on his sword, which clanged to the floor, followed by Edmund himself, who collapsed in a heap, clearly dazed by the blow.

“Edmund!” Robert shouted, and in an instant he was by his son’s side. “Edmund!” he repeated.

“Knights, tie the child up,” the Emperor said. “I will decide–”

He didn’t finish the sentence: taking advantage of the fact that the Knights’ attention was no longer focused on me, I let out a shout and dove forward, rolled on the floor, grabbed Edmund’s sword – I fumbled a bit, my hands were still tied, but I somehow managed to keep hold of it – and stabbed the Emperor through the stomach.

The Emperor turned to me and smiled.

Once again his hand moved, and it was my turn to be hit across the face; I saw the attack coming, and managed to twist my body to turn it into a glancing blow, but I still fell flat on my back, looking up in horror as the Emperor pulled the sword from his body.

“A valiant effort, but ultimately useless,” he said. “It still hurts, though.”

I just kept staring at him.

“But perhaps you would like to try again?” he continued, his voice mocking; he tossed the sword underhand in my direction, and it landed beside me. He spread his arms wide. “Go ahead. Be my guest.”

It took me a moment to shake myself; I swiftly cut the rope which was binding my hands, the blade of the sword slicing cleanly through it – Edmund had done a good job of keeping it sharp – and picked up the weapon. All the Knights had been staring at the scene, but a couple of them started moving towards me–

“Do not interfere,” the Emperor said, raising a hand, and the Knights stopped.

With a shout, I slashed at the Emperor; the blade sank a good two inches into his side, but he barely flinched, and smiled when I withdrew the sword.

Then I went for a vertical slash; the sword buried itself into the Emperor’s shoulder, and only his clavicle stopped me from cleaving him in half. He was still smiling when I stepped back, twisting the weapon to free it.

Again, and again, and again I attacked him, and he didn’t offer any resistance, not even moving his body to try and avoid my blows; soon his robe was torn to shreds, revealing his body and his rough, almost scaled skin, which healed instantly every time the blade cut through it.

Over and over I fruitlessly struck him, and I found myself gasping for breath, my muscles burning with the effort, every blow becoming weaker, until finally the hilt of the sword, slick with the Emperor’s blood, slipped from my grasp, and the weapon clanged to the floor once more.

“Do you realise it now?” the Emperor said, once again spreading his arms wide. “You cannot injure me in any way that matters.” He turned around in a full circle, running his eyes on the assembled Knights. “None of you can.”

His eyes flickered briefly to Kyros, who was still lying on the ground some distance away, before looking back to me.

And something clicked in my mind.

You cannot injure me in any way that matters, the Emperor had said. None of you can.

And he’d looked at Kyros.

None of you can.

Kyros couldn’t, either, of course. Not in the state he was in.

How could he injure the Emperor in a way that mattered anyway? Certainly not with his claws, or his teeth. Those were no better than a sword, after all.

But maybe…?

I thought back. To Ziegental, to when we’d been exposed. To when I had been exposed. And even further back, to the conversation Kyros and I had had while walking through the forest.

Was it going to work?

I didn’t know, but I had to try.

How had Kyros put it? Something about thinking about the shape, the form, very carefully.

Well then.

I closed my eyes.

I took a deep breath.

And I thought of Kyros.

It’s a weird feeling, an alien sensation, when your body expands, when your bones pop, when wings and scales and teeth and claws appear as if from nowhere; it was slow, too, slower than Kyros’ shapechanges had been – he was much more experienced than I was, after all.

But it only took a handful of seconds before I opened my eyes, and looked down at the Emperor, who was staring at me, wide eyed.

I planted all four of my paws on the floor, and let my roar fill the throne room; all the Knights scrambled away from me, but the Emperor stood in place, disbelief evident on his face.

“How…?” he asked, his mouth falling open; he took a step back, and then another, then turned on his heel and ran away, eyes darting around, until he spotted Duncan. “Kill it!” he shouted, stabbing a finger towards me even as he ran. He reached the Old Boar, grasped him by the lapels of his cloak, and turned again to look and point at me. “Kill it now!”

Duncan looked down at the Emperor, then up at me, and back down at the Emperor.

“No,” he said.

The Emperor froze for a moment; then he slowly turned towards Duncan. “What do you mean, no?” he sputtered. “I’m giving you a direct order, Sir Duncan! Kill that monster!”

“There’s only one monster here, and it’s not Adrian,” Duncan replied.

Faster than my eyes could follow, he unsheathed his sword and plunged it into the Emperor’s chest, twisting it for good measure, and the Emperor gasped for breath.

“Why, you ungrateful…” the Emperor hissed. “You will die for this!”

“Gladly,” Duncan replied; he took a step back and kicked the Emperor straight in the chest, sending him tumbling. “That way, at least, I won’t be your butcher any longer.”

The Emperor stood up almost immediately; like he’d done time and time again before, he pulled the blade from his flesh, which immediately started healing, and whirled about to face Duncan. “You…”

I growled; the Emperor froze in place, and slowly turned his head to look at me.

I grinned down at him. I inhaled deeply.

I took aim.

And I let it out.

The Eternal Emperor burned, a shrill, high-pitched scream escaping his lips as my flaming breath incinerated his flesh, melted his skin, and charred his bones. He screamed again as I took another breath, and another, and another, blowing fire after flame after fire against him, over and over again, until all that was left of him was a fist-sized, coal-black lump lying on the charred stone of the throne room’s floor.

I took one last deep breath, but this time I just exhaled normally; all my energy expended, I felt myself shrink back down to my usual size, no longer able to maintain my dragon form.

I fell to my knees, and then prone on the ground, and I grinned as I looked at the Emperor’s remains.

They pulsed.

I blinked. Had I imagined it?

The Emperor’s remains – the Emperor’s heart, I realised – pulsed again.

No.

And again. And again.

No!

I had to do something. But what? My vision was narrowing, it was becoming hard to stay awake; it was all I could do to cling to consciousness as the Emperor’s heart pulsed, and then it started expanding, and growing, and–

A boot descended, and crushed what was left of the Eternal Emperor.

“And good riddance,” Robert said.

I exhaled deeply. “Thank you, brother,” I murmured.

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “You did most of the work after all, Adrian.”

“Yes, I guess I did,” I said, a smile appearing on my lips.

I was just about to let myself fall asleep, when Robert continued, “It was a real surprise, though. I had no idea you could turn into a dragon.”

Dragon.

Kyros.

“Kyros!” I shouted; my tiredness forgotten, I tried to push myself up. “Kyros!” I shouted again. “Robert! Help me!”

My friend was instantly by my side; he hurriedly helped me up, and we made our way as quickly as possible to Kyros. Edmund was kneeling beside him: “He’s still breathing!” he said.

“Unchain him,” I said; Edmund and Robert and I pulled at the chains, but they were locked on fast.

“Out of the way, Edmund,” Duncan said, pushing him aside; he produced a key from his belt, unlocked the padlock that held the chains together, and pulled them off Kyros’ body, laying him gently on the floor. “The wound is deep,” he said, eyeing the injury on Kyros’ chest.

“Too deep,” Robert agreed grimly. “Not even the best healers in the Empire can save him now. I’m sorry, Adrian.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I replied, “give me a blade.”

“What?”

“Give me a blade!” I repeated.

“Here,” Edmund said, and he pushed his dagger into my hand.

I had no idea if this was going to work, but I had to try; I grimaced as I cut the palm of my hand, and started smearing my blood over Kyros’ wound.

“Adrian, what…” Robert began to say, but he stopped and gasped in amazement – as did the other Knights – as the injured flesh and skin slowly started knitting together. But still…

“It’s not healing fast enough,” I said; gritting my teeth, I slashed my wrist open, and pushed it against Kyros’ lips. “Drink. Drink, Kyros. Please, I beg you. Drink.”

Kyros drank. Reflexively, he drank deeply of the blood I was offering him, gulping it down, coughing a bit as some of it dripped along the wrong pipe, and then drank again. He drank, and drank, and drank, until the exhaustion and the loss of blood overtook me, I couldn’t stay awake any more, and I let darkness take me.