It’s John. It’s just John.
There was no just about it.
He was vast. His long, fluid body filled the water around her, encircling her in graceful coils. His head was bigger than her car. His eyes were the same deep blue as in his human form, but now each one was at least three feet across. They glowed faintly in the darkness, like some phosphorescent deep-sea creature that lived beyond the reach of the sun.
Two long, elegant horns swept back from his temples, each dividing into six short, jutting points like a deer’s antlers. The overall shape of his head reminded her more of a Chinese dragon than a Western one; intelligent and noble rather than brutally reptilian.
A sort of ruff or mane fringed his head, running a little way down the back of his serpentine neck. Gold glittered amidst the flowing blue tendrils. She wondered if they were the same charms woven into his hair when he was in human form, somehow transformed to match his new size.
*Yes. My honor-tokens are made to have two forms, the same as myself. It is the art of our Smiths to create twinned items that shift as we do.*
If his human voice was reminiscent of a bassoon and a cello playing in harmony, in this form he sounded like a whole orchestra. As before, she could somehow tell what he was saying, the words taking shape in her head as his melodious dragon-speech shook the water.
Tentatively, she put her hand up. He curved his neck in response, lowering hi
s head until the huge, blunt tip of his wedge-shaped muzzle touched her palm. She spread her fingers out. Her entire hand didn’t even cover a single scale.
He was so big, so unapologetically big. He occupied space with a casual, unconscious assurance, as if it was his right to take up as much room as he needed. She couldn’t even imagine doing the same herself.
*Try,* he urged her.
In her mind, she could clearly picture what he’d done, how easily he’d shrugged off human form and exploded into his true glory. She could see in his mind what she would look like as a dragon, as huge and powerful as he was.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs to their fullest extent, and let go of his side. Relaxing her limbs, she allowed the water to close over her head.
And tried.
Chapter 13
By the time John had managed to soothe Neridia into a fitful slumber, the moon was past zenith. It shone through her bedroom window, the silver light washing over her tear-streaked cheeks. Even in sleep, her body curled in a tense, unhappy ball, like a hermit crab huddling into a stolen shell.
She tried so hard. Oh, my mate, my heart, my Empress. You tried so hard.
She doubtless would still have been in the lake, her salt tears mingling with the agitated water, had John not bodily carried her out of it. He’d wrapped her in towels and his own arms, kissing away her sobbing frustration. He’d sung to her as he would have sung to an overwrought hatchling, soft notes of reassurance and certainty: All will be well. No defeat is final. Sleep, rest, and be fresh for battle tomorrow.
Now, at last, she slept. With infinite care, John untangled his fingers from hers. She murmured fretfully, hand searching across the bedcovers, and he held his breath—but she lapsed back into exhausted slumber. Barefoot, he eased out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.
We can’t leave her now, his inner human fretted. This is a terrible idea. Go back.
John shook his head slightly, dispelling the intrusive thoughts. Even though he too wanted nothing more than to remain at his mate’s side, guarding her dreams, he had his duty. He had already delayed too long.
His possessions were still safely stored in the rear compartment of Neridia’s vehicle. He opened the smaller rucksack for a moment, just to reassure himself that his hoard was secure. He had a sudden vision of adorning Neridia’s glorious body with the gleaming pearls and gold, and had to fight down a surge of lust. He made himself zip the bag up before he succumbed to the temptation to go back inside.
Instead, he opened his large duffel bag. Carefully, piece by piece, he unwrapped his armor.
In the golden age when Atlantis stood proud above the waves and the entire ocean reverberated with sea dragon songs, a knight like himself would have had an entire retinue of pages and squires to assist him. He would have stood in solemn contemplation, arms outstretched, while each shining piece was fastened to his body with pomp and ritual. One of the knights of old would not even have been capable of preparing for battle alone.
Those days were long gone. John donned his armor as he always had, without assistance.
First the soft, supple kraken-leather leggings, fitting over the muscles of his legs like a second skin. He wrapped his forearms in lengths of the same material, tying the ceremonial knots one-handed with the ease of long practice.
Over the under-armor, the armor proper. Greaves to protect his lower legs, and cuisse over his thighs, fastened round the backs of his legs with strong, rough sharkskin. Long, cunningly articulated boots, each so finely wrought that they flexed as easily as his living feet.
He slid his vambraces over his forearms, whispering a praise-poem to their many past wearers as he buckled the straps. The hard, translucent material gleamed like mother-of-pearl, but it was stronger than any human metal. Both its name and the secret of its manufacture had been lost long ago.
His pauldrons were made of the same substance, encasing his shoulders like the spined carapace of a deep-sea crab. He pulled the straps tight across his chest, flexing to make sure they were properly settled into place.
The helmet completed his armor. He left the visor—fashioned to resemble a sea dragon’s snarling visage—raised for now, leaving his face bare. His torso and back too were left uncovered, of course. Griff had once taken him to a museum to see armor worn by human knights, and John had laughed harder than he ever had before in his life. A sea dragon knight had no need to hide inside a thick shell like a turtle; he was trained to catch his opponent’s blows on his shoulders and forearms, with the agility allowed by his lightly-covered form.