“The guilders,” reminded the dragon with a casual gesture toward the cottage. “And change.”
“Perhaps,” she replied in her firmest voice, “you might say how you mean to help me gain my freedom.” In her wrath with the woodcutter, she had forgotten the danger of the dragon.
A low growl emanated from the worm’s throat, but it managed not to huff, as this would have crisped the innkeeper’s daughter on the spot. Once a bargain began, it could not kill the other party. Threats were another matter. “If you will bring me my guilders, and change, and promise to give me your firstborn son, I will let you live,” it answered archly.
She folded her arms to keep them from shaking, but it only made her legs quiver instead.
The dragon took her gesture as stubbornness. “And bring you a chest of rubies,”
