Excerpt: Dragonchild

(from the Prologue)

When he woke, the tiny cold spot on his neck was gone, but she was not far away. He could sense her, she had found the underwater hot spring and was playing in the crystal clear water where the sunlight streamed through the occasional crack in the mountain overhead. She felt no fear, so he let her be. There were things to consider. Like the fact that he was crazy, for example.
He raised himself from his sleeping nest and stretched again, feeling the satisfying release as his wing joints popped. Normal dragons did not bring sacrifices home with them. Normal dragons either ate the sacrifice, if it was edible, or killed it and disposed of the remains if it was not. Occasionally a village would get desperate and send an older human to the stone, and while their intent was noble, the flesh was stringy and unpleasant. He did them the courtesy of accepting the sacrifice and not laying waste to their village, but there was no way he was going to actually eat it.
He, however, was not a normal dragon - a condition that was growing steadily more pronounced as he aged. As evidenced by the fact that he was seriously giving thought to keeping the little girl, and raising her himself. Him. A dragon. Noble, majestic, fierce and powerful and awesome ... but a parent? There was a reason he had never mated. And then of course, there was that sticky little thing about the Dragon Council. They would never understand or allow him to raise the girl - which is why they would never find out, he told himself. And humans, too, would be outraged if they knew. He really should kill her. It would be what the Council would do.
The girl came into the chamber and considered him seriously - an expression at home on her thin face even in spite of the soaking wet tunic and spiky, unkempt hair. He turned his head to center her in one of his golden, spinning eyes. She knew he had been thinking of killing her. He knew she knew. Neither of them made a move, they just stared at each other.
You do not speak.
There was a long moment of silence, in which she thought about her response.
“I can,” she said. The dragon blinked.
And yet you are silent?
“Mostly I think no one would listen even if I did.” For his part, the dragon was surprised. It was rare to find someone with that wisdom, let alone one so young. She was indeed extraordinary, he decided again, and he would not kill her. “Do you have a name?” The dragon nodded, a slight incline of his head.
I am Jerigar. The girl was quiet for a while.
“I’m Merrantha.” Jerigar raised the ridge above his eye, an action unnoticed by the girl.
A noble name, he said, and left it at that. She clearly had no idea what it meant. Whoever had given her the name had never mentioned how it was a term of deepest affection, used by the worshippers of Tiantha Merr. She was a younger green dragon from the lands to the south, insufferably vain and arrogant, but good to the humans who praised her. If the child’s name was any indication, perhaps she would be better off with him after all.