I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) Marc Secchia (most read books .TXT) 📖

at the Princess as if she had dropped from the stars above. However, it was the children that surprised him most. They accepted her within moments. Had it not been for the mother’s reaction, most of them would never have had a second thought about a black-skinned person – just now, two girls sat behind her playing with her hair, and another little boy had plopped himself down in her lap with the air of one who never intended to leave.

Was this business of noticing difference inborn, he mused, or learned?

When did Dragons learn to value blue scales above brown, for example, and who taught them to fear the white fire of Sea Dragons?

On another note, who taught his kind that Humans were fleas, cockroaches and vermin? Or that they did not deserve to be treated with dignity and respect? Shame at who he had been before burned from his paws right up into his wingtips. He had thought these things. Lived these lies. Should have known better, Dragon – but it was easier just to wing along with others and not think too deeply about it, wasn’t it?

Four children played happily between his paws. The adults smelled deeply unhappy about this, he had noticed, but everyone politely ignored the perfectly obvious. Perhaps they feared to point it out, lest he become angered and sup upon their tiny progeny?

One tripped and fell. He plucked her up and righted her. “There you go.”

“Thanksh, mishter Dwaggin,” she lisped.

Oh, alright then. Human children could be tolerable, at times. Although, this lot had clearly never learned a healthy fear of the Dragonkind.

He hoped none of his kin ever happened along to teach them.

* * * *

Reinforced with herbs that ought to settle Yardi’s misbehaving stomach, two Dragons and three Humans flew on up to the Kingdom of Dorline, to the City of White. White people wearing white, who lived in whitewashed houses with white roof tiles. It was a matter of some relief to the eye that local competitiveness appeared to major upon growing flowers lusher and more beautiful than one’s neighbour.

Also, all of the citizens acted weirdly detached. They wandered about the broad, white-cobbled streets with an air of deep contemplation. Far too deep to notice two Dragons strolling into town. They merely avoided the approaching Dragons as if they were oddly mobile houses.

Yardi said, “There’s meant to be a Blacksmiths’ Quarter here somewhere. I’ll go ask for directions.”

“How odd. They don’t even notice you, Azania,” Dragon commented.

“I was thinking about what you said about seeing difference,” she replied, her mind evidently not dwelling upon a place a white Dragon could blend into perfectly. “It should matter, yet it should not.”

“Aha. At the same time, right? As in –”

“They should be held in tension. Aye! Differences absolutely matter. Differences are what make for uniqueness and diversity, art and beauty; it’s what makes us stronger. Yet differences are not to be feared – even, not to be noticed at all. Why should it matter that Yarimda is light and I am dark? We are both Human beings; we bleed the same, yet we’re also very different.”

“We fear the other, that which is not us, the not familiar,” he said. “We Dragons joke that like likes like – it’s just Dragon nature. And Human, if your frown is anything to judge by.”

She thought out loud, “I guess it’s what’s inside that matters, isn’t it? It’s about how in the case of that family we met, perhaps one is taught from a young age to fear the black robber from the desert. I’ve never been mistaken for a robber before. It’s as stupid as believing black people hide better in the dark, so we must of course be wonderful robbers and own the night. Built for it.”

“Blergh.”

“Precisely my point. I was wrong to be so furious with you before.”

“Ah … about what?”

“Last time we spoke, when you lectured me about there not being any actual white or black people. I kicked you. I mean, if you don’t see me as black, then you don’t see all that I am! You don’t see me! Blackness is my core identity – or at least, what I’ve always been taught is my identity. I guess I’m starting to learn that identity isn’t necessarily rational or even coherent, and it’s far more complicated than I ever imagined. The Black Rose of the Desert is as much an idea and an ideal of beauty, as I am a real person. Those knights were all chasing an idea about my identity, but they had no clue who the real Azania is. This person who befriended a Dragon and somehow stumbled into becoming a Dragon Rider – that hardly feels real, oftentimes, yet it is me.”

Raising a paw, he touched her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m so happy.”

Just when he thought he understood the first thing about a Human woman.

“Oh Dragon, you’re so silly. My heart is so full it could burst, but right now, happiness has bubbled to the top, because I believe I’ve learned something.”

“So have I.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I do think I’m thinking what you’re thinking, but you had best tell me in case I’ve somehow got it wrong. There’s a fairly high chance.”

“Is there?” the Princess smiled, clasping his paw with both hands. “You’re the best friend ever. What I wanted to say is … I’ve realised that it doesn’t matter. What a release! I feel so light, I’m almost floating – because skin colour has been such a burden for me, bigger than any mountain. This nonsense that I’m supposed to be the most beautiful woman in Solixambria because by some cosmic accident I was born black, born a Princess, and –”

“Stop,” he growled. “First talon, you are beautiful for many reasons, and aye,