A Language of Dragons

by S.F. Williamson

Mengkhenyass. Serpent. Enemy. Imposter.

“People shouldn’t fear their prime ministers, Vivien,” he says. “Prime ministers should fear their people.”

Is he flirting with me? Am I being flirted with by a priest?

I stare at the dragon egg behind him. We could be kissing beneath it, but instead it’s witnessing the most humiliating moment of my existence.

“To control languages, to control words, is to control what people know.”

My lips brush against his ear. “Lying is a sin, Father.” I lock the door on his stunned face and sleep with the knife beneath my pillow.

“If I was as impulsive as you say, Featherswallow, I’d have kissed you ten times already.”