The Vain Princess and Her Dragon Knight

Chapter 11

Gloria hid the golden egg away carefully—in her bed.

It was an operation so absurd that even Elstar had never imagined it. The round egg was instantly swallowed by the princess's soft, fragrant goose-down quilt. Half of it pressed against her pillow, sinking a deep hollow into the plush fabric.

The dragon's voice actually stammered. "Your Highness, you..."

"Hm?" Gloria was busily making a bed for the dragon egg. She pulled a freshly laundered nightgown from her wardrobe—the softest one she owned—and wrapped the egg up with meticulous care. The gown carried the faint scent of peaches, her current favorite washing fragrance. But beneath the peaches lay something else. Something sweeter, more intoxicating. A scent that belonged only to the princess herself. And now it was entirely enveloping the golden dragon egg.

Elstar felt every hair on the back of his neck stand rigid. Every muscle in his body locked tighter than his armor. He strode forward and, disregarding every rule about obeying his princess's commands, scooped the egg from where it was sinking into the bedding.

Gloria rounded on him. "What are you doing, Elstar!"

"It can't be put in the quilt. It'll get nervous."

"Nervous?" She blinked, bewildered. What did an egg have to be nervous about? But she let him take it.

The truth was, *he* was the nervous one. Elstar fumbled for a better excuse. "It's too stuffy in the quilt. It won't be able to breathe."

"Breathe?" Gloria's eyes went wide with fresh excitement. "You're saying it's alive?!" She flew at him, clutching his arm, her curious little face hovering inches from the dragon egg, her golden eyes sparkling. One delicate finger stretched out, barely grazing the shell, as if she feared breaking it. "Can I touch it? Will it hurt the little dragon inside?"

That innocent, tender expression. Elstar heard himself say, "You may."

A delighted squeal. Holding her breath, she touched the shell. The pad of her soft finger met the indestructible surface—and Elstar's spine went rigid. She had touched him. And not just once. He shouldn't have allowed it. He shouldn't have given in to that hopeful look on her face.

As the child of an elf and a dragon, Elstar had never needed to consume his eggshell to gain power. He'd inherited everything from both parents at birth. So his mother, Isabella, had kept the golden shell. A greedy dragon hoards treasure and destroys what it scorns. Elstar had no doubt his irresponsible mother had planned to keep his golden shell as emergency rations. To save his remains, he'd toddled about as a hatchling, hauling his clumsy silver tail, using his half-elven magic to carefully restore the broken shell. He'd even layered a sensory spell over it—so he'd always know its state. Then he'd pushed the shell into the Flame Ash Mountain behind the Victorio dragon territory. The boiling volcanic fires would protect it from any race cunning enough to covet a dragon's eggshell. The heat, to a fire dragon, was no different from a pleasant breeze. Over the millennia, he'd almost forgotten about that spell entirely. Until now—exiled from his treasure cave, unable to return—he'd remembered this one-of-a-kind golden eggshell. And he'd decided to give it to Gloria as a gift.

She touched it once. Twice. Then she laid her whole palm against it and began stroking up and down. Elstar's tail was nearly bursting free, scales prickling one by one. His face beneath the helmet burned. Without a word, he lifted the egg higher—out of her reach.

Gloria pouted. *Was he teasing her, like she was a child? Had he no sense of his place as her Guardian Knight?*

"Your Highness, it's late. You should sleep," he said, voice wooden.

Reluctantly, she obeyed. "You've gotten talkative today. More fussy than Natasha."

But her complaint made him pause. She was right. He'd been so distracted by her touches that he'd nearly forgotten his real plan. This useless eggshell was meant to win her favor—to make her eager to grant his reward. His golden eyes traced the two braids in her hair, and a new scheme arose. He placed the egg carefully on her nightstand.

Gloria climbed onto the bed and knelt beside it, poking it gently. "Since you said it's alive... will it hatch into a little dragon?"

Elstar stared at the eggshell. *The life inside it is standing right in front of you.* He kept silent. Gloria took his silence as agreement. She clapped her hands. "I've decided—I'm going to hatch this future dragon myself!" Elstar stared, dumbfounded. "Since we found it together, let's call it Lolita." She patted the shell with maternal affection. "There now, my little Lolita. Mama will hatch you properly."

Elstar was caught between tears and laughter. But seeing her so enthusiastic, he seized the moment—pretending solicitousness. "Your Highness, sleeping in braids can strain your neck. Let me undo them for you." Her hair would spill across the pillows. It would surely touch his eggshell. And he could, in a manner of speaking, sleep covered in her golden hair tonight.

The next morning, Gloria woke groggy and heard someone at the door. Thinking it was the maids, she called out sharply. "Wait! Don't come in yet!" Lolita was still in her bed. The great golden egg sat on her pillow, tangled with a silk nightgown she'd used to wrap it. Where to hide it? She didn't want anyone knowing about the egg. If too many people knew, there would be interference. But Elstar had said not to hide it in the quilt—it would suffocate. She'd forgotten to ask how to properly store it.

"It's me, Your Highness," came a familiar low voice from around the corner. Elstar. Gloria exhaled in relief. As the only other person who knew about the egg, she felt closer to him now than ever before. A shared secret strengthened bonds. "Come in, then."

He entered to find the golden princess curled beside the golden egg, the whole scene so radiant it made a dragon want to purr. "Good morning, Elstar. Did you sleep well?"

"Couldn't have been better." He'd spent the night wrapped in a blissful peach orchard. He was the happiest dragon alive. "And you, Your Highness?"

"Me? Not so well. I was thinking about this egg all night." She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. "You seem to know a lot about dragons. Do you know how to care for an egg? I was terrified all night—afraid I'd roll over and crush it, or that the quilt would smother it. It's like taking care of a baby."

"I know a little." He didn't deny it. He wanted to prove his usefulness, to make her more inclined to reward him.

"That's wonderful!" Gloria exclaimed. Dragons were so rare that almost no research existed about them. For eras, Isabella had been the only active dragon on the continent, and she'd left no material for other races to study. Hatching and raising a dragon—even the most exhaustive libraries in Sessel would be empty on the subject. Yet Elstar spoke as though it were common knowledge. Anyone else, Gloria would have suspected of bluffing. But after seeing Suka get pummeled into the fountain, she'd quietly upgraded Elstar's status to "mysterious Holy-Swordsman-level powerhouse." If such a man knew things others didn't, it was hardly shocking.

"But for now, I have other matters," she said, changing into lighter clothes. She returned to stroke the egg goodbye. Then she gave Elstar firm instructions. "Stay here and guard it. Don't let anyone see it."

"That's not appropriate. My duty is to remain at your side at all times." Guarding his own eggshell while the princess went elsewhere was not what he'd signed up for.

"Just half an hour. I need to speak to my father about getting you squeezed into the academy's enrollment list." She was concerned for the egg's safety. "I'll be perfectly safe with my father. You stay here. Guarding the dragon egg is the same as guarding me."

He wanted to argue—he could protect both her and the egg with ease. But the earnest concern on her face made him shut his mouth. Once her golden figure vanished, Elstar stood in silence by the bed. His lazy gaze fell upon the egg—propped comfortably on soft cushions by the princess's own hands, her sweet scent still clinging to the bedding and cradling the shell in a blissful embrace.

He scowled. Snatching up the egg, he lifted a corner of the quilt and shoved it inside. *Annoying thing.*