around at the passing sky. “Thank goodness,” she murmured.
“I take it that your upbringing was similar to mine. Long on demands on their part, short on results on my part. I don’t think anybody’s ever told me that I was good for anything,” said Robin, staring listlessly at his boot.
“Such a departure from the loving, nurturing relationships I’ve experienced,” replied Marianne drolly.
Robin gave a hollow laugh. “The last time I visited Kingbriton Manor, Neville and Beatrice spared no words in expressing their total dissatisfaction with me. This time, their displeasure reached new lows. In two years, I have failed to grow a foot taller, befriend the heir to the throne, court five ladies simultaneously, sprout blond hair, or change my name to Edward II. All told, I’m a failure.”
“In Neville and Beatrice’s opinion, the king himself would not have measured up sufficiently. To me, though, you’re a hero to commandeer a dragon and fly us to safety,” Marianne countered. “You are undoubtedly the most fearless person I’ve ever met. And I’m not saying that because in a flash you could fling me off this dragon.” Marianne gestured dramatically.
“Don’t joke like that,” said Robin seriously. Marianne furrowed her brow. “I’ve always known that you were my only real kin. I won’t ever take you for granted. I guess that comes from nothing in my life ever having been certain. Except criticism, of course. And rain on the days when I want to take a ride,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.
They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Robin’s words hung drearily over their heads until Marianne piped up, “Robin, do you remember what our real parents were like?”
Marianne’s abrupt question caught Robin off guard and before he could restrain himself, pent-up words found their way out. “I don’t recall very much. I’ve always wished I could summon back more than the fuzzy images and scattered voices that come through my head like short flashes of lightning,” said Robin, sadness creeping into his voice. “I sometimes wake up at night with these pictures of Mother and Father that are so realistic, I feel like I can talk to them. But at dawn, they fade away like the dreams they are. I remember that Mother had this lilting voice like mist over flowering fields. She had black hair so long that it came down to her waist, and I could reach up and pull on it when I wanted something.” Robin smiled at the recollection. “Father, on the other hand, always had his light brown hair cut short because of his military service. I can remember him practicing his swordsmanship while dinner was cooking. He’d take me out to the bridge behind our house and I’d sit on the post while he fought with imaginary foes. Once he handed me the sword, and it was so unexpectedly weighted, I fell over backwards and skinned my arm. Mother gathered me up in her arms and doctored my scrape.” Robin carefully stroked his left arm. “There isn’t even a scar.” Robin gave a small laugh.
“I wish I were old enough to remember them,” said Marianne. Robin then pretended to find something remarkably interesting in the night sky so as not to see Marianne wiping away her tears.
Chapter the Seventh
Marianne realized that they had landed when she felt the absence of wind on her face. Opening her eyes, she had to squint against the breaking dawn. All around her, shafts of morning sunlight defeated the fleeing night. Robin slept next to her, his mouth half open and his eyes contently closed. Stretching and yawning, she jumped off the dragon’s back. “My compliments to the captain for not letting me fall off during my slumber,” Marianne said as she stroked the dragon’s head.
“You know, some dragons think of petting as a degrading insult and would strike,” said the dragon, opening one eye lazily as Marianne pulled her hand back with a small “Eek.” “Fortunately, you don’t have one of those dragons,” he continued, rolling over to expose an underbelly as large as a cottage. Behind him, Marianne heard a muffled cry.
“Robin!” called out Marianne, rushing behind the dragon. “Are you all right?” she asked, propping up her dazed brother.
“I certainly wish you’d awaken me the next time our ride starts performing gymnastics,” he said, a hand on his forehead.
“My apologies, good sir,” said the dragon, “but in my weary state, I forgot to check for the Extra.”
“Extra!” fumed Robin indignantly. “What’s Marianne, if I’m the ‘Extra’?”
“Marianne is the Holder. She is the one who controls me, and you are the one I could grind with my foot if I felt so inclined,” replied the dragon in a factual tone.
“Oh,” gasped Marianne, a look of alarm on her face. Yet after thinking for a second, she added, “But I really wouldn’t want you to squash Robin.”
“Thanks a lot, Marianne. Why did we stop, anyway?” asked Robin, rubbing his eyes, apparently not wanting to hear anymore about his probable demise.
“I got tired. You can’t possibly expect me to have loads of energy after being cramped up in a glass ball for years and then flying Marianne and an Extra hundreds and hundreds of miles,” said the dragon, huffily.
Robin swelled up, getting ready to reply when Marianne cut in with, “What’s your name?”
“My name, fair lady, is whatever you want it to be,” replied the dragon kindly.
“Why don’t you have a name?” inquired Marianne.
“Because I exist to carry out the Holder’s every whim, and the Holder may not like my name,” said the dragon, with a flick of his tail.
“Ah,” said Marianne, biting her lower lip, “Well, what would you like to be called?”
“Why don’t you call him ‘Stupid?’” suggested Robin helpfully.
“Because then she would have to rename you ‘Charred,’ for that is what you would be,” retorted the dragon, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. “As long as you do not follow in the footsteps of my previous Holder and name me Pickles, I shall be contented with whatever you choose.”
“Pretentious paperweight,” Robin muttered, which prompted Marianne to say “Robin!” in a disapproving tone. “How would you like to be named ‘Leopold,’ and I could call you ‘Leo’ for short because you’re as brave as a lion?” Marianne finally asked.
The dragon glowed, his massive chest swelling with pride. “I would relish that very much indeed,” said Leo. He yawned, exposing his daggers of teeth. Robin grimaced, but the next moment Leo transformed himself back into the harmless dragonfly poised in his sphere, which rolled noiselessly at Marianne’s feet.
Chapter the Eighth
“Robin, how much farther do we have to walk? My legs are so sore that they’re about to fall off!” whined Marianne as they trudged down the sweltering road. The sun was shining with unbridled fierceness, and the dusty road threw the reflected warmth back at the fatigued travelers.
“Well, maybe we wouldn’t have to be using this devilish path if your dragon had picked a better spot to land. Near a city, or a town, or even a brook! But no, he had to give out right above a blasted field in the middle of nowhere!” yelled Robin.
“You’re upset with Leo because he thinks you’re of negligible importance,” snapped Marianne. Robin turned with
