Like a Teufelwalder bat hiding in plain sight, Andor kept on the lookout for Harald's friends. While drinking a tankard of ale in The Dragon's Head, he sat at their usual corner table in the back room. It was only a matter of time before either Kara or Hilda revealed something valuable to him that he could take back to his Queen.

Keeping his cover intact annoyed him. Andor soon realized barbarians did little more than training, fighting, quaffing ale, and burping louder than the average troll.

Any sentence included six words or fewer.

It also meant showing off his physicality even though it meant nothing to him. Like right now. Rather than sleek draconic armor, he dressed in a sleeveless linen shirt that showed off his massive arms, heavy leather trousers, and leather boots like...

Well, a barbarian.

Andor wore the living corpse with disdain, like a sloppy overcoat that belonged in the trash.

It didn't matter how desperately Andor needed to speak like a normal dragon. Or act like a normal dragon. He always needed to play the role of a half-giant fool.

The roaring hearth kept the hall comfortably warm while the ale gave him a pleasant buzz. A buxom maiden brought him a large basket of bread rolls and cheese.

"I know you like these," she said with a suggestive wink. "They're on the house."

The foolish human bent over to put them on the table, until he was staring down at a massive cavern between two large baubles. She smiled. They bounced as she rose back to full height.

For the love of the Shadow, woman, put on some clothes! I beg you!

This giant's body is insatiable.

"Thank you," said Andor in a curt tone that made her storm out of the room.

With cool detachment he observed as Kara entered the tavern with her dwarven friend. After hanging up their cloaks on hooks near the entrance, Hilda whispered something in her ear. Kara laughed.

Curse this weak human hearing! What did she say?

Kara wrapped her arm around the dwarf before she waved at Andor. While they walked toward their reserved table, Andor felt a pang of envy.

Friendship. It was unheard of in his native land. The Shadowfolk of Teufelwald enjoyed the company of families, lovers, and rivals. In wartime they banded together as compatriots. But nothing more.

How desperately Andor longed to accept a kindred soul and share a strong bond. Like they did. He could stand the loneliness if only he could enjoy that kind of kinship.

Although Kara was plain, her smile did light up a room. Neither woman turned many heads unless they made an effort. But both of them warmed the giant's heart.

Perhaps Andor could grow to tolerate Kara even though she was the demon spawn of Erik the Defiler. The traitor who had started the great battle six years ago. The traitor who had destroyed his world. His life.

If Kara liked him back, well! Who knew where that might lead? Probably right to Magnus, her boss and mentor. Andor couldn't have chosen a better body if he'd planned it all in advance. Now all he needed to do was to worm his way into her heart.

Kara, darling, you have a well of hidden passion. Every dragon does. Even a half-dragon like you. You simply don't know it yet.

"Hey, musclehead!" shouted Hilda as she smacked his back. "You still hurtin' from training practice today?"

"Not as much as you!" When Andor wrapped Hilda in a gruff hug, warm waves of her inner strength flooded his draconic soul and helped him relax. "Thank the...Light it's over."

Whew, close one. Watch it.

"Eight hours of non-stop drills," groaned Hilda.

Kara gasped. "Sweet Simon the Bard!"

"Oh, not even he can help ya escape the wrath that comes from..." Hilda paused for effect and swept her hand dramatically through the air. "...the Tower Guard."

"Not to mention your father," said Andor with a wink.

Hilda grinned.

That foolish human girl laughed again. His host reacted with a wave of warmth that raced from his heart to his fingertips. Andor despised it. To make matters worse, Kara walked over to him and gave him a shy smile.

Damn the Light! What do I say now?

Andor dragged a half-forgotten memory from the tomb of Harald's mind. A nickname the giant had given her. One that would work well to keep his cover intact.

"Hey, little sparrow," muttered Andor.

"Hey, Harald." Kara looked around. "Where's Astrid?"

Hilda pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush, now. That's a touchy subject."

Kara tilted her head and furrowed her brow.

"They broke up," whispered Hilda loud enough that Andor could hear her.

Andor squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered how their passionate kisses had turned sour. When Astrid had grasped his leather armor to uncover his flesh--without first bonding with his soul--he could not accept her touch. For her desire rested with another man.

Harald. The man he'd killed.

Astrid was not his Queen, and Andor could no longer pretend.

Andor had stormed away before their skin had touched, and he had vowed never to bond with anyone but his own kind. Not an elf. Not a sapien. No one.

For his grave moment of weakness had convinced Andor only a dragon could bond with him and accept him--body, mind, and soul--including the dark chasm of his lonely dreamscape.

But the only words that left Andor's mouth were, "Curse that wench."

"Oh...I'm sorry, Harald." Kara gave his bare forearm a friendly squeeze, which sent a wave of warm tingles down his spine. "If I can do anything to help, let me know."

Curse this giant's hormones. Do they ever stop?

The dragon snatched his arm away from her touch. His sudden rejection made Kara take a step back and mutter, "Light above, what bit you in the butt?"

Andor rose. All the patrons fell silent, including Hilda and Kara. That was one good thing about this blasted giant corpse. Everyone stopped and listened whenever he stood tall.

"Curse Astrid!" Andor extended his tankard high into the air. "And curse all womenfolk!"

The females scoffed or made rude gestures at him-including Kara and Hilda-while many of the male patrons cheered. Probably the single ones. They raised their tankards along with him and quaffed all the ale in their tankards.

For several seconds Andor was serenaded by a virtual orchestra of gassy eruptions.

Humans are disgusting creatures. What did Erik see in them? How could he lay with one? And at what cost? The death and enslavement of his own brethren?

Andor plopped back down on the oak bench like a drunkard. But he didn't feel drunk. He felt dejected and alone. Astrid had twisted the story when telling her friends. Called him a wilted carrot who wanted to string her along simply to toss her aside.

Kara cleared her throat.

When his eyes rested on the half-human creature still standing beside him with her arms crossed, Andor grimaced. Why is she still here?

Kara scowled back at him. He met her intense gaze. Erik's gaze. To his dismay, an upsetting warmth spread through his chest when her lips parted.

Hardly knowing what had come over him, Andor reached over and tugged the braid that trailed down her spine. But Kara gave him a smack on the arm that properly stung.

"Ow! What is wrong with you, wench?" snarled Andor.

Kara took a step closer, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Call me a wench again, and I'll kick off your nuts before feeding them to you!"

Hilda cackled.

Who would have thought? Andor couldn't resist the smile that tugged at his lips. It seems Erik's spawn does have some dragon fire in her after all.

His host wanted to pull her close and tease her some more. But Andor ignored the impulse because the very thought of drawing Erik's offspring near him made him ill.

Instead he rose to his full height and stared down at the tiny creature as though she were an ant he could crush. To his surprise, Kara met his fearsome glare and jutted her chin. He made a motion to punch her shoulder and pulled back just in time.

Kara didn't even flinch. This girl has guts.

"What the Shadow is wrong with you, H?" bellowed Hilda. "Leave my girl alone!"

"She asked for it."

Hilda slapped the table and made the tankards skid and bounce along the surface. By then Kara had retreated safely to the other side of the table and sat beside the dwarf.

"Stop acting like a drunken cowpat," shouted Hilda. "Things may not have worked with Astrid, but come on, man! You love women. And you treat them well."

Andor sat back down in sullen silence.

"Sometimes too well," muttered Hilda under her breath.

"Not anymore."

"Shall I find you a man to plow instead?" retorted Hilda. "Stop taking it out on Kara."

"Curse you!"

"No, curse you!"

Hilda jumped on the table and started wrestling with him, but in a friendly and jovial way that wasn't meant to harm either of them. Andor's anger and frustration flowed through him, boiling his blood. For once he hardly needed to pretend during this pub night.

To his surprise, the dwarf tackled him and pinned his neck to the ground with the handle of her battle ax. Her inner strength thrummed through his spirit, relaxing him once more. Like his Queen. But better. Hilda didn't try to subdue him or force him to obey her will.

His tense muscles slackened while she straddled his chest and breathed heavily, baring her teeth playfully. It was different than with Astrid, though. This was physical banter.

It made him feel alive.

How does she do that?

Her sapphire blue eyes twinkled like the Eternal Star as Hilda shouted in victory. The patrons cheered, and Andor didn't even mind losing. He also appreciated the added pressure Hilda's thighs placed around his chest when she raised her battle ax.

"Whatchu waitin' for?" asked Andor to break the tension. "Wanna service me?"

"Bah, service yourself!" Hilda released him before offering him a hand to get back on his feet. "You couldn't last a week without plowing some wench right here in the tavern."

"Wanna bet?"

Hilda balked. "You wanna bet?"

"Damn straight."

"Yeah?" She curled her lip. "How about ten silver coins?"

"No plowing," Andor declared. "Kissing and dancing allowed."

"But don't pretend to plow and call it dancing." She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "No petting either. And my father has eyes and ears everywhere, so don't even think about lying to me."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Eyes and ears everywhere. Now that's interesting. Thank you for that little nugget.

Kara gaped at them both as though they'd lost their minds.

Andor clinked his second tankard against hers, quaffed the ale until it ran down his shirt, and slammed it back on the table. "Done."

She followed his lead and burped loudly. "Done."

"What is wrong with you two?" asked Kara, shaking her head.

"He's a musclehead!" she replied. "Might as well pay me those coins right now and save himself the groin spasms."

Andor jutted his chin. "You wish!"

Kara scrunched her face. "Groin spasms?"

Hilda lowered her voice. "Yeah, you know...the pain they get when they don't..."

She made a distinctive two-tone whistling noise out of the corner of her mouth.

"Oh..."

What in the Light has this mission reduced me to?

Andor could only hope that his efforts would prove fruitful in the end.

___

Word count: 1,872
Total word count: 16,636/20,000