[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-saya-and-the-dragon":3,"chapter-saya-and-the-dragon-saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-3":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Saya and the Dragon",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1705190,2177,"Chapter Three: Cinders & Complaints","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-3",3,"\u003Cp>The fire crackled like it owed me something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tiny, feeble, barely enough to warm a toe—but it was ours. Mine and the Dragon’s. Mostly his, since he’d lit it. I coddled it, and fed it every miserable twig I could find in this piss-damp cave. He hadn’t moved much. Just curled there, coiled around me like a scaled throw rug with attachment issues.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sat barefoot, cloak wrapped tight around my shoulders, toes nearly in the flames. My ankles were cold. My pride colder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do your bones still ache?” I asked, not looking at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shifted, a low creak of ancient joints and sarcasm. “The ointment is working,” he said. Then after a beat: “Thank you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sighed. Loud. Heavy. With all the theatrical weight of a woman who had been chased out of a tavern by the living embodiment of bad decisions in a tunic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He let the silence stretch like an old lover’s underpants. Then, voice softer, “I’m glad you came back. To spend the night.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I wasn’t.” Pause. “Much.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I glared at the fire. A spark jumped out, kissed my toe, and died. Like my hopes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That guy,” I muttered, “the hero. He came into the inn.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dragon lifted his head slightly. His eyes gleamed in the dark like polished judgment. “Oh?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Figured it out,” I said. “Put it all together. Who robbed him. Who tricked him. Who left him naked on a rock with love bites and no loot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hummed. A low, contemplative note that echoed against the cave walls and my headache. “So. It’s sleeping rough for you too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Apparently.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I groaned, dropped my forehead to my knees, and let out a muffled, “I had just gotten my ale.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dragon shifted closer, his tail curling near the fire. “I told you not to get attached to that inn.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I wasn’t attached,” I said. “I was horizontal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re sulking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I am sulking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well,” he said, “at least we have each other.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I peeked at him through my hair. “You’re a thousand-year-old gay lizard with arthritis.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And you,” he said, “are a barefoot grifter wrapped in a blanket that smells like goat. We’re perfect.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I couldn’t argue with that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wind howled outside like it was laughing at me. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted its disapproval.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I reached into the folds of my cloak and pulled out what was left of the pine-scented ointment, passed it to him wordlessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thanks,” he muttered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t mention it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He dabbed some on his elbow, wincing. “Next time, maybe don’t hit the hero so hard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Next time,” I said, flopping onto my back, “maybe you could wait five more minutes before making your dramatic entrance.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another pause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sniffed. “I was worried.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I looked up at the black cave ceiling. “You always are.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m allowed,” he said, curling tighter, wings rustling. “You're all I’ve got.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked at the shadows dancing above us.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And for once, I didn’t answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not with words, anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I just inched closer, let my toes graze his warm belly scales.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We stayed like that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two liars, two thieves, two fugitives in the dark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trying not to feel too much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trying not to admit it was nice to have somewhere to come back to—even if it was just a damp hole and a cranky dragon with joint pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tomorrow we’d plan the next village.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tonight, we just sat by the fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And tried not to groan too loudly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I poked the fire with a stick like it had personally failed me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Maybe we should fly south,\" I murmured. “Somewhere warm. Better for your bones.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He groaned—long, operatic, like someone had offered him a second helping of mortality. “And what of you? Back to Seebulba? Whoring?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t rise to the bait. Just shrugged, still watching the fire gutter and twitch. “Maybe. Once we get enough gold.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Or some gold.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That did it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I could *feel* him tense, scales flexing with sudden unease. He shifted, talons scraping against stone, tail twitching like a cat about to knock over a vase.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh no,” he said. “Oh no no no no.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sighed. “Don’t start.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You always *do* this,” he hissed. “You say you’ll wait till the next haul, till the big one, and then you *blow it* on silk capes and *gilded nipple rings* and scented oil you never even *open*—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They were on sale!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They were imported!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was a *festival!*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He huffed, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You think gold grows on trees? You think I just belch fire and *coins* come out? This is a *career,* Saya. A *lifestyle.* A delicate economy of fear, seduction, and not dying!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And I hold up *my* end of it,” I snapped, glaring. “I do the dancing and the moaning and the *sacrificing*—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You do the *moaning* a little *too* enthusiastically sometimes—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Jealous?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Disgusted.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Liar.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He let out a strangled sound. “I’m *not* giving you any of my gold.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked. “Who asked for your gold?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You *implied*—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I didn’t imply *anything!*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You always imply!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t *treat your hoard like a lover with trust issues.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He coiled tighter, wings ruffling protectively. “It’s *my* share. *Mine.* You have yours. I don’t sniff around your little stash of beaded necklaces and love potions and weird masks from sex cults.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That mask was *hand-carved!*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was cursed!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was *fun!*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He covered his face with one claw like the shame of sharing a cave with me was physically painful. “You spent forty gold pieces on a mahogany box *with no key.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was *mysterious.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was *empty.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And yet I regret nothing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We glared at each other across the dying fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gold was somewhere in this mountain. I didn’t know where. I didn’t *need* to know. He kept it hidden like a paranoid squirrel on crazy mushrooms, muttering inventory lists under his breath when he thought I was asleep. It wasn’t about *using* it. It was about *having* it. Touching it. Sleeping near it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, *my* gold had vanished three towns ago—melted into wine, lace, questionable jewelry, and an hour with a tanned knife-dancer named Kiro who’d licked salt off my collarbone and taught me three new words for regret.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We were both greedy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But my greed liked fireworks and kisses and velvet cushions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His liked coins arranged by decade and the smell of ancient metal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not touching your stupid hoard,” I said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sniffed. “You were looking at it with your *tone.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh please.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I *know* that tone.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I rolled my eyes and flopped onto my back. “Your share is your share, you cranky lizard. Mine is mine. It disappears because I *live,* not because I count.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He muttered something about *wanton disrespect for fiscal reality* and *dragons going extinct for a reason.*\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I closed my eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just… sleep,” I said. “We’ll argue about my spending habits in the morning, like a normal cursed couple.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not a couple,” he grumbled automatically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Whatever lets you sleep, hoardlord.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He snorted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But a moment later, I felt his tail shift just a little closer to me, curling slightly over my ankles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Warm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Annoying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Predictable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t say anything else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither did he.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the fire was nearly out. The night was thick around us.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And tomorrow, we’d fly again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe south.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe not.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But definitely *together.*\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if we never agreed on how to spend the loot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I lay there in the silence for a while, pretending to sleep, the way you do when the argument isn’t quite over but both sides are too tired to reload.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fire had died down to a whimper. Just ember breath and smoke curling toward the cave ceiling like old gossip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It itched at me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I opened one eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So,” I said casually, “where *is* this famous hoard of yours, anyway?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dragon didn’t even lift his head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Harlot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I propped myself up on one elbow, cloak slipping down just enough to weaponize a collarbone. “I *would,* actually. We’ve been partners for ages now. I’ve seen you molting, snoring, whining about shin splints. But not once—not *once*—have I seen the fabled Dragon Hoard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He groaned. “Gods, you’re like a rash that asks questions.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Come on,” I coaxed. “I’ve shown you *everything.* My scars, my stretch marks, my birthmark shaped like a questionable fruit—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s a pear.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s *debatable.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He curled tighter, wings folding in, face half-buried in his forearms like a sullen teenager. “It’s a *dragon* thing, Saya.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s not an answer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s *cultural.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Bullshit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He let out a huffy breath. “You wouldn’t understand.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked at him. “Try me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s private. Sacred. Instinctual.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You sound like a priest describing his sock drawer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cracked one golden eye open and glared at me. “We *hoard.* It’s what we *do.* We don’t *share* it. We don’t *display* it. We *hide* it, and we *feel things* about it. It’s not for you. It’s not for anyone. It’s *mine.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I raised a brow. “You sleep on it naked, don’t you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I grinned. “Oh my gods, you do.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I *don’t.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You do.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He bared his teeth. “You slept with a barmaid for half a jar of olives.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They were *imported!*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I *hate* you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I wiggled my toes near the embers. “You love me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He rolled his eyes, but his tail didn’t move away from my ankles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Typical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fine,” I said, settling back onto the stone floor. “Keep your stupid hoard. I hope it rusts.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sniffed. “Gold doesn’t rust.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hope *you* do.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Already am.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I closed my eyes again and whispered into the dark, “One day I’ll find it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” he muttered. “You won’t.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Watch me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His wings rustled softly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Touch it,” he said darkly, “and I *will* turn you into a pile of tasteful ash.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Promise?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Goodnight, Saya.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Goodnight, Stingy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And with that, we drifted back into silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The kind that clings to you. Familiar. Irritating. Comfortable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A greedy girl.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A neurotic dragon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And a secret hoard somewhere in the dark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Untouched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For now.\u003C\u002Fp>",1685,"2026-06-06T14:39:25.900Z",1,"novelbin.me","bc1df56f5f0140115d8c1caf4b0b75423cea927acfb3a00dbe9fcc2b416fec47","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-4","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-2",228,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsaya-and-the-dragon-cover.jpg"]