Page 71 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

“Research. Yes. A fine research question. I have been working it since your bird came, and I finished the research on the road. Your sisters are pretending they’re here to rescue Sky, but the fact is, they saw your letter, and they’re here to meddle. We were already on our way when we got word of what had happened.”

“So why the axe?” I asked.

“She brought it to cut off the tip of your horn,” Thessaly said. “She said she preferred to do it in a ceremonial fashion.”

I leaned in close. “Please do not let her near me with that axe. She lacks coordination.”

“Noted.”

“So you’ve completed the research?” I asked.

She nodded. “I merely need your horn, his blessing, and a few magical ingredients.” Her eyes went up the mountain, to the peak the whole town would not stop glancing at, and came back to me level as a countertop. “Is he all right? Do you feel him?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

She set the wooden case on the tailboard beside the casserole, beamed at me, and gave me a tight hug. “Well, that’s lovely then, isn’t it? It means that he’s quite all right.”

“I would very much like to have him back, though,” I huffed. “So I can make sure I’m not imagining the way I sense him.”

“So.” Grunnhild surveyed the square, the mountain, the thin determined nothing of my rescue. “What’s the plan, little brother?”

The plan, it turned out, was to settle my sisters and Thessaly into the inn, allow myself to be force-fed some casserole, and then attempt to sneak out so I could climb the mountain. I was halfway there, a whole bag of climbing gear strapped to my shoulders, when my sisters caught up to me, kitted out in so many ropes and axes that they looked either ridiculous or like professionals who climbed mountains every day. I couldn’t decide which.

Just as we were crossing through a small gate in the wall at the edge of town, headed toward a footpath that led up the mountain, the light changed.

I turned with my heart already in my mouth, and there it was, the dragon. With Sky loosely cradled in its claw. Sky waved.

The dragon was enormous, terrifying, and everyone nearby scattered, except Grunnhild, who planted herself in front of me with her ceremonial axe raised and bellowed something insulting about its mother.

Sometimes I wondered about my sister’s choices.

It opened one huge foreclaw, gently, and gently set Sky down on his feet in the middle of the meadow.

It did not fly away.

It folded its wings and settled back on its haunches like a very pointy dog, and it looked at me, past Sky, past Grunnhild and her axe. It fixed its molten gaze on me with an expression I can only describe as baffled. It tilted its great head, eyes darting from me to Sky and back, the way a man checks a sum that won’t come out right.

“There you are,” Sky said to me, rushing forward. “Sheesh. I’ve been looking for you all day.”

The dragon growled.

Before I could answer, before any of us could move, Sky turned to the dragon and put his hands on his hips. “Oh, don’t you start. He’s a catch. You don’t even know him.” He held out his hand.

“Sky,” I said. “What are you—”

The dragon lowered its head to the ground in front of Sky with a thunk, and Sky pressed both bare palms flat to a ridge above the dragon’s eye.

The dragon shuddered, head to tail, the light of its scales flaring white, and shrank, fast and impossible, until there was no dragon at all but a man kneeling naked in the middle of a meadow, a dragon-shaped scorch mark beneath him. He was tan-skinned, ember-eyed, devastatingly built, and wearing an expression of pure, affronted dignity.

“Sky,” the man said, making no move to cover a single thing. “We have discussed this. I was just going to drop you off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I know you want to meet everyone! That’s what friends do!”

What was happening? Sky stepped forward, dragging the naked dragon-man by his hand.

“Moerrven, this is Oallian. Oallian, Moerrven. He’s the dragon. He’s a total sweetheart once you get the rage out of the way, and the tendency to char things. Don’t worry, he’s not hot to the touch unless his magic is going wonky, which it’s not right now.”

“I am not a sweetheart.” Oallian turned his unsettling ember eyes on me and looked me up and down, the way one assesses a purchase someone else has made and cannot justify. “…Hm,” he said, which I chose to take as a compliment.