Dragons Between Us

Blurb

Najmah, a research student at the University of Empress, wishes nothing more than her intellectual pursuits to produce, well, something of substance. But alas, dragon eggs prove tougher to crack than she first thought.

Elsewhere on the scenic island of Empress, Ameer struggles with developing a new caramel-flavoured latte recipe for his family’s cafe. And answers hide from him like lost ancient myths.

But when Najmah seeks caffeine on a bright Empress day, sparks fly between them. And perhaps both their problems can be solved through matters not of the mind, but those closer to the heart.

Dragons Between Us is a cozy Muslim romance short story set in a scenic fantasy kingdom, featuring a baby dragon guaranteed to warm your heart. Have a read today!

Chapter 1

The University of Empress was a large and formidable building to all who gazed upon it from outside its tall, white-rendered brick walls. The university itself resembled a castle from the ancient times—majestic and magnificent and filled with the air of possibility that came to characterise the island of Empress and its scenic surrounding waters. The central university formed a hub of knowledge, with theories and insights and wondrous discoveries floating its halls alongside the delightful scents of roses and daisies from its many beautiful gardens.

To study here was a testament not only to the intellectual veracity of the student, but also to the heights of knowledge that Empress had to offer the wider kingdom.

To breathe the air of its classrooms was a privilege not many in the kingdom could boast about.

Through the large wooden gate which protected the university treasures, one could find many courtyards lush with life, bees pollinating to their heart’s content with fireflies glowing in the distance as though bringing the stars down during the day before returning them at night. Greenery so green one perhaps required a new colour to be created just to capture its depth. Tastes of coffee and sweet pastries lingering in the air, likely from the breakfast halls and accommodation spaces comprising the east wing of the building.

The west wing, however, was purpose built for research. Whilst architecturally pretty, and soothing to one’s eyes and ears and every sense one didn’t know existed, the scholarly output was something to behold. Rigorous research from the most brilliant minds in all of Empress, whether from the students or the professors.

A feat no ordinary human could achieve, with only the highest of creativity and intelligence being allowed to grace the research labs that graced them.

The human mind, after all, was a garden from which wonders could sprout. If only it was, of course, tended to in the right environment.

One particular lab existed on the farthest west side of the university’s research wing. In a forgotten corner, almost, where more shadows lurked than light, and where the smells of daisies and roses faded for a more chemical tint to the air. Labs were dark and dingy, a bittersweet chill sifting through the air as though itself looking for a new discovery with which to revive the field of Dragon Studies.

Someone else who also sought a discovery was Najmah Ali. And she was, certainly, feeling that chill wrap around her, as if in an attempt to skirt under her headscarf and squeeze the new finding out of her brain.

Best minds of the island? Pah, what a load of nonsense.

Najmah sighed, rubbing a weathered hand over her tired eyes. Her coffee, which now smelt more like the beans had rotted away, sitting on the far side of the table.

Out of reach.

Like everything in her academic life it seemed.

She pored over the research papers once more, eyes scanning more words than her brain knew what to do with. The Highland dragon type was rumoured, in the ancient history documents she’d unearthed as an undergraduate from her home town’s library, to have not just fire-breathing capabilities—but poisonous ones too.

Though such poisonous breath, or perhaps the poison was a liquid inside the egg, had not been seen in hundreds of years, Najmah was hopeful she would be able to capture even a drop of it in a bottle. Highland dragon poison was said to, after all, have medicinal properties.

And if Allah gave her a way to extract it, then by Allah she would help save the world.

Not that she was having the best of fortunes in that regard, as of late, with her research deadline approaching and little in the way of findings to report.

Dragon Studies research was already thin on the ground within the university, since studies required new hatchlings to be nurtured and loved, then investigated. Time and patience were of the essence when studying the cute little creatures with adorable multi-coloured eyes breathing their little fiery mists into the air.

Like pets, really, except a lot more potent once they grew up and wished to spread their wings.

And spread their fiery breath.

Thankfully, they were friendly with humans.

Najmah glanced to her left, where in an incubator sat a dragon egg. Rich in turquoise, a little larger than the size of her palm, with scales spanning the ridged exterior as though an afterimage of the dragon itself buried inside. Hatchlings like this were recovered from expeditions to the Highlands, where eggs were dropped onto the mossy ground and fought for their own survival—at least, from what current research suggested.

Najmah had explored the Highlands terrain herself prior to commencing her research, and had recovered this particular specimen. Skylar, she had already named it, since one day it would grace the skies in flight, regardless of whether it held poison in its fiery breath or not.

Najmah couldn’t wait to love Skylar the way she’d loved dragons all her life. But for now, she needed something to wake her brain up.

“Need some coffee,” Najmah murmured to herself, shuffling all the papers that were previously scattered across the desk into a neat pile. Or what seemed to be a neat pile—her eyes were too glazed over with tiredness to even care about the neatness of anything.

“And I need it now,” she muttered like a sleep-addled dragon who had yet to send out its first spurts of fire.

She considered taking a swig from her half-finished cup lying to one side. But one sniff was enough to tell her it was a bad idea. Gosh, it smelt worse than the dragon dung coating half the surfaces of the wild surfaces of Westhome.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, she grabbed her rucksack, stuffed the papers inside, and left the research lab.

Casting a longing glance at the scaly egg as she shut the door behind her.

She needed coffee badly—and she knew just the perfect place to get some.

Chapter 2

Ameer Al-Munir (yes, it rhymed and no, he did not need reminding of that fact) let out the longest sigh of that morning, staring out at the lovely blue skies gracing down upon the island of Empress.

Staring out at those skies through a window, he might've added.

He didn’t exactly, well, feel that radiance on his face. Or on his body. Or in his heart. Or in his soul. Or anywhere, really.

And why was that, one may ask with an inkling of curiosity?

Ameer Al-Munir, who shall henceforth be referred to as Ameer only due to the aforementioned rather annoying rhyme, was utterly sleep-deprived from a night filled with breathtaking alchemy.

No, not turning silver into gold or creating some kind of elixir of life.

(Why everyone always first thought that of alchemy he had not a clue.)

Ameer was creating a regenerative caramel flavouring to add to his regular lattes in order to attract more customers. It had occurred yesterday after praying fajr at the nearby masjid with his father. Upon returning home, his father had quietly headed upstairs to sleep before his job at the local barracks, whilst Ameer's mother had all but accosted him in the backroom of their family cafe.

“You and your cauldrons!” she said, exasperated, curly hair flying about as though wishing to strangle him. “You left the university to pursue your blasted dreams. But I have yet to see such fruits. And if there are fruits—they are the most rotten of them!”

Ameer's mother held that timeless quality reminiscent of all mothers it seemed—to at once be sweet and gentle, whilst also scarier than perhaps Shaytan himself.

“I just need time to experiment,” Ameer said, holding his hands up as if attempting to halt a royal guard’s arrest. “There are recipes that can be made, Mother. However they all require—”

“Time, yes, as you have mentioned many times before,” his mother said. She let out a sigh, rubbing fingers through her hair, her exasperation expelling itself through the air she exhaled. She placed a hand against his cheek, sending a loving warmth deep into Ameer's chest. “You are smart and brave and kind—but such qualities are nothing without being manifest into the universe.”

She gazed into his eyes, green meeting bright green. “Do not bottle up your talents, Ameer. Let them flourish like Empress fireflies.”

And with that, she had headed into the kitchen to sort out the morning delivery of supplies. Leaving Ameer in a heavy silence, many a thought racing through his mind, down to his heart, and right into his soul.

Which led him to, rather naturally, spend the entire night experimenting and formulating a new caramel flavoured latte which would not only grant energy through the caffeine, but also create a regenerative healing effect for tired muscles and little cuts.

Perfect for soldiers with little nicks and bruises that needed patching up without the headache of buying ill-tasting medicines from an apothecary.

Rather ingenious, if Ameer did say so himself.

And when he'd told his mother of the idea, her bright as the Empress skies smile had been all the motivation he needed in the world.

But alas, motivation alone did not a success make.

Or in other words, Ameer was having a bloody hard time of it. He had come up with a potential solution, but had yet to test it.

Which led him to this moment—sitting at the till of the family cafe serving customers and making sure hooligans didn't threaten to trash the place (not that it had happened in ages, but his mother's anxiety was his issue to deal with as much as hers). He usually never did this job, but his mother was doing an emergency deep clean out back, so Ameer was tasked with the role.

Tired out of his mind, sighing every half a second it seemed, and needing a coffee more bitter than sweet to drug up his system. In fact, he was just about to brew himself something pretty strong when—

Something else—or someone else—prettier walked in.

And Ameer's day brightened far more than the bluest of Empress skies.

Chapter 3

Al-Munir Delights was as radiant as the name would suggest, the clear glass exterior carrying in more light than internal candles or lamps could ever produce. Allah had blessed the cafe with a sort of luminance one may have found in deep underwater animals, or from the two horns of a purple Highland dragon.

(Najmah was clearly still hungover on her research not yet yielding the results she'd been hoping for.)

Although, Najmah often smelled the cafe before she saw it. Wondrous scents of different coffee beans, from Empress’ very own farms to the farthest regions of Northome, all moulding into one sweet smell that by itself almost infused her lungs with caffeine. Pastries swirled with cinnamon and different spices floated to her nostrils as if a personal invitation to gorge upon them, and the clear windows reflected a hunger in her eyes that had not been there previously.

If the university's east wing served the best coffee and snacks on earth, then Al-Munir Delights had been sent from the peaks of the seventh heaven.

Leaving the beautiful Empress breeze for the cool interior of the cafe, Najmah fished a hand into her bag, fingers brushing against her research papers as she took out her purse. The jingle as the door closed behind her echoed in her mind, though she had more pressing matters to worry about.

She still, even on the rather nice yet exhausted walk over to the cafe, hadn’t thought of a new method to try to extract Highland dragon poison.

And something told her that caffeine might not do the trick today, in all honesty.

This case would likely require divine intervention from Allah. Though considering how her undergraduate project had been a last minute clutch from the jaws of defeat, would it be too unreasonable to ask for another miracle?

“One latte, please,” she said, walking over to the till without firstly checking whether anyone else was waiting in line (thankfully there was not), and without secondly looking up to see if anyone was at the till to take her order.

Her mind must’ve really been frazzled today. She swiped a hand across her eyes, let out a breath, and then glanced up from her shoes to the till.

“I’m terribly sorry…”

Her words died in her throat.

To be clearer, the sight before her promptly embraced the words and gently slipped them back into her lungs, catching her breath in the process.

Standing before her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Bright green eyes that displayed both a sparkle to rival Empress’ skies as well as a mischief that promised fun adventures. An easygoing smile with gorgeous long hair framing a face that—

Najmah caught herself staring, coughed to clear the non-existent lump in her throat, ignored the redness settling into her pale cheeks, and lowered her gaze.

To his forearms leaning against the wooden table separating them, and the veins running down from the crook of his elbow to the back of his hand—

“One latte, did you say?” the man asked, after a cough of his own and a swipe of a hand through his hair.

Hair that then fell naturally back in place as though magically held in one position.

Najmah firmly planted her gaze on the pastries to one side, in a glass display, determined not to look at the man further and embarrass herself. She was a Muslim woman—for crying out loud—so she couldn’t just go and ogle every healthy specimen for a potential husband in sight.

Much to her mother’s chagrin. If her mother had had her way, Najmah would’ve been married off as soon as she became of age. And likely to the highest bidder in the central markets of Empress, with a dowry of a million scrolls of ancient knowledge.

“I would like a cinnamon roll with that, please,” Najmah said, nearly salivating at the pastry’s sight.

“Coming right up,” the man said, voice as silky smooth as Najmah wanted it.

Wait, wanted it?

She clutched her bag tighter against her body. How one man had frazzled her this much—she didn’t know. Typically, the one serving was a middle-aged woman named Farah—not what appeared to be her…son?

Cinnamon roll deposited onto a plate, the man slid it across the counter. Then glanced at her once, then again, a little nervously actually.

Is he trying to—

“Actually, I am attempting to create something,” the man said, letting out a breath. “A kind of medicinal additive for coffee to enhance the taste and…well, cause other effects.”

Najmah’s smile let itself out far too easily, especially given she was speaking with a non-mahram man. But she couldn’t help herself—someone who experimented and researched was someone after her own heart, whether they knew it or not.

It also helped if they were easy on the eyes, too.

And this man, presumably Farah’s son, definitely was.

“What kind of other effects?” Najmah asked, taking the plated pastry and holding it to her side, whilst sliding over the coins with her other hand. “Medicinal, did you say?”

“Yes, medicinal. L-let me, uh, show you, actually.”

The man rushed long fingers through his hair again, with it falling back into place as naturally as the water cycle, and it was when he turned around to retrieve the latte and a glass vial that Najmah realised how broad-shouldered he was.

And that burning heat returned to her cheeks like someone had lit a match against them. And she decided now would be a good time to follow Allah’s commands and lower her gaze again.

You’re behaving like a little schoolgirl with a crush, she chastised herself. Stop it and just act normal, please.

“So this is the regular latte,” the man said, presenting a lovely cup, white on the outside with gold plated features along the rim that shone in the natural light. And the swirling liquid inside promised delightfully rich tastes as always.

“And this—” he held up the glass vial with a coffee-coloured liquid sloshing inside— “is what I have created. If you add it to the latte, it creates a caramel flavouring. But over and above the flavour change—it has a restorative effect on tired muscles as well as any little cuts and bruises.”

Now that had gotten Najmah’s attention, and as if to illustrate her need for such restoration every muscle in her body decided to ache just then. And she was reminded of the many little nicks to her fingers from accidentally pressing a quill against her skin.

“I’ll take it,” she said before she knew what she was doing.

And the smile the man rewarded her with made it all seem worth it.

Sheepishly, Najmah lowered her gaze for the millionth time in the last few minutes.

Ya Allah, what have I got myself into?

Chapter 4

Ameer was nervous for multiple reasons, actually, and the fused smells of his family’s cafe—whether pastries filled with freshly made jam or the richest coffee beans in the kingdom—did little to quell those nerves.

The first reason was that a heart-stoppingly pretty woman had entered the cafe. Ameer knew he wasn't supposed to be staring, but the fairest of skin alongside eyes with multiple colours seemingly melting into each other, not to mention that brilliant flash of a smile and a headscarf that neatly tucked in every stray hair as though personally attending to them—it caused his stomach to swirl like freshly brewed coffee and his fingers to decide that messing up his hair was his new favourite hobby.

And to add insult to a potential injury, the prettiest woman in the kingdom was now testing out his new recipe that he had yet to try himself. If it went wrong—it would be the worst first impression imaginable. And then she wouldn’t—

Wouldn’t what? his mind asked, teasing him. And he could almost sense the smirk of that extra voice constantly in his head. Don’t get ahead of yourself. She’s clearly a researcher at the university, and you’re a failed alchemist with nothing to your name.

Not failed yet, the more optimistic side of his brain said, as he watched her stir the vial’s contents into the brew with a spoon. The colour remained the same, but the wisps of smoke rising from the coffee turned a slight yellow tinge, like Ameer’s dawn had arrived.

Like magic, almost.

Although, of course, magic wasn’t real aside from whatever witches and wizards decided to break the law and commit black magic.

“Your mouth has not closed in minutes,” a voice whispered in Ameer’s ear.

He jumped back, heart catching in his throat, lungs snatched by a disappearing breath. Who on earth—

His mother stepped towards him, headscarf soft as she rested her head on his shoulder, a smirk on her face as she followed his eyes to—

“Najmah!” his mother called, ruffling Ameer’s hair before skirting around the counter and approaching the woman who, aside from drinking coffee, was furiously rifling through her bag for parchment papers.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” his mother said, ever the amicable host.

“My eternal tiredness and dread over the universe, Farah,” the woman, evidently named Najmah, said.

Ameer snorted a laugh, then coughed, covered his mouth, and pointedly looked away from them. His cheeks feeling hotter than oven-baked cookies. Looking out through the window, which was now carrying in enormous amounts of radiance that lit up everything he saw.

The world, almost impossibly, seemed brighter than it had not fifteen minutes prior.

And Ameer wasn’t even the one drinking the coffee for the regenerative effect.

Another thing that hadn’t escaped his notice was that Najmah and his mother were on a first name basis. Which meant they knew each other from before, from somewhere, and it couldn’t have been from school or university given their age difference.

Which meant that, whilst Ameer wasted away toiling in the kitchens on his recipes, Najmah was regaling the cafe with her presence on a regular basis. Brightening the walls with a smile that could tame even the most haughty of dragons.

His heart quickened at the thought of seeing her more often, and Ameer hated how fast his mind was moving to conclusions he had never anticipated. His mother had often hounded him to begin searching for a wife and getting married—especially after he’d dropped out of the university to work the café backroom full time.

She had even recommended some people to him—but every time, an emptiness filled Ameer at the thought of tying the knot with someone he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of. He didn’t wish to take the risk—not with half his deen, anyway.

Marriage wasn’t just some potion he could fix up or recipe he could perfect through trial and error.

Lives were far too important to experiment on.

Even if he was, in truth, using Najmah to test his latest coffee concoction.

“This research on Highland dragons does pique my interest,” Ameer heard his mother say whilst he pretended not to listen in to the conversation.

You just want to hear her voice, don’t you? that voice in Ameer’s mind said.

A voice he promptly told to shut its trap.

“It’s fascinating, yes,” Najmah replied, spreading out her papers to show his mother a few of them. “But it all seems to lead to a missing piece of information I desperately need. It has been eluding me thus far, to tell the truth.”

“I may know something—or someone—that can help with that,” his mother said, though Ameer tuned her out as the front door’s little jingle sounded, alerting him to another customer.

Ameer stood tall and put on his best smile—not that hard with Najmah in the cafe—as he greeted them. An elderly man who, though nameless and never lingering around to chat, always gave a gentle smile that caressed his wrinkles and requested a jam-filled goodie to sneak to his granddaughter when the parents weren’t looking.

The best kind of grandparent. Ameer’s own grandmother had often done the same, especially after gruelling days of combat training with his father when all he wanted was to sit in the library and read.

After fulfilling the order, Ameer was about to eavesdrop again when a detail from earlier smacked into his mind, causing his thoughts to race as though each was a dragon flying at top speed.

Najmah was researching…dragons from the Highlands?

The same Highlands that Ameer had often explored with his father throughout his childhood?

The same Highlands he often ventured into for rare ingredients with which to run his experiments, since he couldn’t exactly dip into the family coffers to purchase those items in the central markets?

Before he could think another second, his mother came back to the till, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“I shall be here managing the shop floor, Ameer,” his mother said, patting him on the shoulder. “Why not lend your assistance to Najmah, over there?”

Chapter 5

Farah was certainly a devious woman, a scheming woman, deceptive, and someone who always had various plans in the back of her mind. Whatever devilish ways those plans manifested. The worst kind of person who had gotten Najmah to open up about her research woes in her sleep-deprived and tired state of mind before inserting her delightfully gorgeous son into the equation as though he was the solution Najmah was trying to derive.

Mathematical puns aside, Najmah really did not need what essentially amounted to a mini-marriage meeting when all she’d wanted was a coffee and some energy.

Yet without a word, the man called Ameer sat down on the table opposite Najmah, his long hair falling to one side as he gave her a light smile. Leaned his hands that she definitely wasn't looking at on the table, interlacing his fingers.

Najmah’s face, as had done many times in the last twenty minutes or so, heated up. And she prayed to Allah that the redness was well enough hidden. Her hijab made her hot enough already, let alone Ameer’s presence.

“So, well…Mother said there was something you needed help with?” he asked.

His voice was, noticeably, an octave higher than before. But Najmah didn’t comment on it, rather burrowing her gaze into the research papers spread out before her.

Words were squiggles now, with no substance or meaning, such was Najmah's confusion-addled brain.

“Yes…I am researching the famous Highland dragon,” she said, glancing over to find Farah both cheekily smiling at her and pretending not to listen. “I’m sure you are aware of them, no.”

“Who isn’t?” Ameer said with a chuckle. “The blind?”

Najmah, upon hearing that attempt at something funny, didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Instead she chose neither, letting a rather awkward silence fuse into the space between them. And Ameer himself seemed embarrassed at the rather poor attempt at a joke, fingers fidgeting.

She sipped her coffee—at least that was sweet and tasty. And the caramel flavouring had done its job with regards to stylising the taste. Though, the other regenerative effects remained to be seen.

“Right,” Najmah said with a cough. “Well, ancient documents in my family suggest that the Highland dragon holds a kind of poison alongside its fiery breath. Well, it used to—lost to time apparently. Though alchemical research suggests lost properties of dragons can be recovered at their hatching points. Hence I'm trying to recover the poison.”

Ameer's eyebrows shot up, a little alarmed. “Are you trying to assassinate someone? It's not Mother, is it?”

At that, Najmah did let out a laugh. More of a giggle actually, and it took everything inside her not to clamp a hand over her mouth at the embarrassment.

Farah would never let her live this down. Najmah had already given her older friend enough ammunition as it stood.

“The ancient documents suggest that this poison has medicinal properties. The very kind of property that you are searching for with your coffee enhancements, in fact.”

“Healing properties?” Ameer asked, leaning forwards such that his forearms now rested on the table.

A whiff of musk mixed with the scent of freshly baked pastries drifted over from him, and Najmah greedily breathed it in.

She needed air, after all. Everyone did. And hence, she couldn't be blamed.

“Yes, healing properties. It's part of my postgraduate research project. And if I fail…”

“Yeah, it wouldn't be pretty, would it?” Ameer ruffled his hair again, but it fell down into the same position as always. Elegantly so.

And a sudden image flashed in Najmah's mind. Of her sitting on one of those luxurious sofas made of the finest Easthome fabrics, with Ameer's head resting against her thigh and one of her hands gently scratching his hair as they talked about anything and everything after long days of working.

Her heart hammered, the image flashing once more before disappearing into her vision, and she did everything in her power not to let it show on her expression.

Was this a sign from Allah?

Was He trying to send Najmah a message here?

Or was Shaytan using a handsome boy to toy with her emotions?

“Cracking the egg is proving tougher than I first thought, however,” Najmah admitted.

“You've got the egg of a Highland dragon? That's…impressive.”

“I did an expedition there with the university a few months ago and managed to retrieve one. But little is known on how to hatch them, least of all in a laboratory. Normal hatching conditions aren't working the way I thought they would. You know, with the temperature and lighting control alongside making sure the pressurisation is correct, and everything else of course. Not to mention that the deadline for my research is coming quickly so I need to get it done as soon as possible.”

Najmah realised she was rambling, so paused to take a much needed breath and a much more needed sip of coffee. Setting her cup back down with a little clink. It tasted wonderful, she had to admit, and the caffeine was already beginning to boost her energy.

Or maybe it was the person sitting in front of her.

All the while, Ameer glanced at her, then away, then at her again. Foot tapping nervously on the wooden floorboards, and Najmah sensed the question in his mind before he even asked it.

Their gazes met once, and a tingle lit up Najmah's spine, but before she could think on it further—

“We should go together,” Ameer said. Cleared his throat. “To the Highlands, I mean. I know about Highland dragons, and where you can find this medicinal poison.”

Najmah’s fingers fiddled with each other, a sharp warmth passing between them. “Umm…well…I’m a Muslim woman and you’re a non-mahram and sorry I can’t do tha—”

“I didn’t mean alone. SubhanAllah—no, not alone, that would be…not good. But I think I can help you. I can get Mother to come with me. Or…”

“Or what?” Najmah asked.

“Or…you can bring your father along if he’s open to it?”

The implication of that was not lost on Najmah, whose mind was sent spiralling. Her fingers fiddled at a ferocious pace. She glanced over at Farah, who gave her a wide smile and a knowing look, as if she had planned this all along. Then Najmah thought of her mother’s wishes.

Najmah nodded. “Consider it done,” she said, before mentally making a note to speak with her father later that day.

And explain exactly what on earth was going on.

Chapter 6

The Highlands had always fascinated Ameer since he was a child. It was one of those places often spoken of in legends, relied upon to carry an aura of intrigue and mystery. Scary stories used to send him to bed in a terrible fright whilst his parents stayed awake. Or old ancient myths that used the area as a wondrous yet harsh backdrop to a ferocious conflict that supposedly occurred between warring tribes hundreds of years prior. Mystical in a way like nothing else in the kingdom, the Highlands was, as the name would suggest, tucked away right at the summit of Northome. The most north part of the kingdom’s northern area, and particularly hard to reach especially during his early childhood.

But when Ameer was seven, the kingdom’s rulers decided to create the infrastructure for travel right to the opening of the Highlands, with railroads running straight from Empress to Northome’s furthest inhabited regions. Which meant, for the first time, Ameer could see the area for himself with his father accompanying.

And whilst it wasn’t exactly the deserted place filled with monsters that the myths and legends spoke of, it was magical in its own right. Luscious trees with deep purple leaves that grew nowhere else in the kingdom. Tall grass of a green never before seen covered the land, with dirt paths the only evidence that people had once traversed the area. A distinct musty smell lingered in the air, with rolling dust pausing at one’s feet as if to conduct an inspection before letting someone pass.

The Highland dragon was discovered here, where the hilly terrain meant more perching spots for them amongst the majestic sun that seemed to, as if doing the rounds, remain here all year long.

But the Highlands wasn’t without its dangers. Whilst the area wasn’t teeming with vicious serpents, nor was the air hazardous as some myths would lead one to believe, it still exuded an aura of fear that only those who walked its grounds had felt. Sudden shifts in the wind would signal a monster nearby seeking an imminent attack, whilst tree leaves and branches would sometimes howl as though themselves scared, with twigs falling and crunching the grass beneath.

Not to mention the risks associated with staying here overnight, especially in the wilder areas where monsters lived and hunted.

Expeditions here for the purpose of research had occurred for a long time, and Ameer’s father often brought him here for combat training. Both through killing monsters as well as refining their skills together. But what that resulted in was Ameer becoming accustomed to the area’s danger, accustomed to the unique risks, and capable of dealing with that danger in a manner few others were.

Which was why he had offered his help to escort Najmah to the Highlands in order to hatch her egg. The Highland dragon was unable to hatch outside its natural habitat, which those unfamiliar with the area would not have known—hence why Najmah was having trouble. And hence why they needed to induce the hatching whilst there, not at the university.

Ameer had absolutely, unequivocally, no other intentions with offering his help. Despite what his words may have alluded to. Najmah’s father was probably the better choice as a chaperone due to Ameer’s mother not being the best at combat and survival. She was a baker and coffee brewer, after all—someone who bought ingredients rather than face the Highlands’ dangers like the merchants she purchased from.

Still, offering his help hadn’t stopped the teasing from his mother the night before they were due to set off.

“My son is infatuated,” his mother said, tousling his hair with a wide smile gracing her features. “I have never seen you so enamoured with a woman before. To be honest, I was beginning to feel a little worried, I must admit.”

“Right,” Ameer said, keeping his head down, away from his mother’s hands, and praying to Allah the redness in his cheeks wasn’t visible.

“It can be the start of a new beginning,” his mother said, continuing as if her son’s embarrassment was a non-factor. “Najmah is a beautiful girl, and I can attest to her love for my pastries and coffee.”

“That’s what you focus on?” Ameer said. “Not whether she prays her daily salah or whether she’s a kind person or not?”

“Oh my!” His mother placed a hand to her chest. “You sound as if you wish to know more about this woman you claim to have no interest in? That is interesting, is it not, my lovely Ameer.”

Ameer groaned, glancing over to his bag where his supplies for the coming expedition were stored. All ready to go. “Maybe it’s a good idea to not accompany her and just tell her how to hatch the egg.”

“You do not believe that.” His mother spoke in a wistful voice, placing a hand on his arm. “I recognise the look in your eyes, my dear Ameer. Such a look was also present in someone else before they got eventually married.”

“Who was it?” Ameer asked despite himself.

“Your father.”

With that thought in mind, Ameer was now traversing the tall grass that nipped at his thighs like a bird seeking attention. Najmah was lagging behind a little, slower since she wasn’t used to the constant walking, nor was she used to adventuring.

Beside Ameer was Najmah’s father. A formidable man, it seemed, with a beard that was larger than life itself and hands holding a large axe which gleamed in the Empress Kingdom light. His grip was strong, such that Ameer could imagine the axe crying from the pain of being gripped, and her father was around the same height as him. A bit burly too, in that strong way of certain warriors in the barracks, whereas Ameer, though strong, was more wiry.

If they fought each other, Ameer had no suspicions as to who would emerge victorious.

But his eyes were soft, like Najmah’s. Ameer sensed, despite not knowing her father for very long, that he was like Ameer’s own father. A lion when he needed to be, especially when protecting his family, but soft as a cat when around those whom he loved.

Of course, considering the circumstances, her father did not love Ameer. Though, in fairness, he was not interrogating Ameer with narrowed eyes and scathing questions the way he thought fathers would of men interested in their daughter.

Not that Ameer was interested in Najmah, to be clear, despite what his mother thought and prayed for.

“You said you do alchemy, then?” her father asked. “And do call me Ibrahim. I have noticed your avoidance of using my name.”

Ameer winced. For some reason, he felt shy to call Najmah’s father by his real name. In fact, he thought it appropriate to call him uncle…or even fath—

“Yes, alchemy…Ibrahim,” Ameer said as they passed another purple thicket and entered a clearing of sorts, their end destination now visible in the distance.

“And why alchemy? That is a strange interest for someone who grew up in a bakery. One of the finest bakeries in all of Empress, I might add.”

“Are you a regular customer?” Ameer asked, glancing over at her fath—at Ibrahim. Ameer usually remembered the regulars (bar Najmah, for some reason), but he did not recognise Ibrahim before meeting today.

“Not a regular, no. But my daughter often brings me your treats,” Ibrahim said. “And they are as delightful as the name suggests. You can tell someone’s character through their cooking—personalities often fuse with the world in ways you could never imagine. Like warriors with their weapons. Or chefs with their cooking. But back to alchemy—how did you start it?”

Ameer was aware of Najmah eavesdropping every word despite her silence. She was, clearly, more of a studious type than an adventurer, and had not mastered the art of concealing her footsteps and intentions.

Though, on the latter, Ameer was not an expert either.

His stealth, and clearly hers, would require much training.

“Father always tried to make me train—his wish was for me to enter the barracks,” Ameer said. “Sparring in the Highlands was his favourite method since both he and the monsters could take turns attacking me. But my interests were more creative and I found myself buried in books rather than practicing the swing of my sword.”

“And yet you ended up apprenticing at your family cafe, it seems?”

The tone wasn’t judgemental, though Ameer did get the sense that Ibrahim was trying to understand him. No one really had understood Ameer—especially after dropping out of the University of Empress which everyone and their mother was attempting to enrol into.

Everyone assumed he had fallen in life, failed somewhere along the way, buried himself six feet under early, whereas Ameer viewed himself as taking flight.

“I studied every book and manual I could get my hands on,” Ameer said, “and even spent a term and a half at the University of Empress after enrolling. But my alchemy professor recommended that I leave to pursue my own interests in the field.”

“Why was that?”

“Because I was too playful in my approach, according to him. Instead of studying the rigorous theory which I had read about since a child and practiced ever since a cauldron was put in front of me, I tried to come up with new recipes. Little medicines, alternative types of potions, even prank items, things like that. I wouldn’t have been able to experiment like that academically until after another seven years of study—whereas at my family cafe I’m able to do it daily.”

Ameer sighed, memories flashing of the University of Empress and its utter beauty in the centre of the island and how walking its halls for the first time felt like Allah had granted him the best dream of all.

“I owe that professor a great deal for his advice—I would’ve shackled myself, staying there.”

“I like ambition in a man,” Ibrahim said. “And independence. Your decision, whether it proves right or wrong, is a strong one that most will respect even if they disagree.”

And for some reason, a swell of pride expanded Ameer’s chest, and he found his back straightening and walking with his head held higher. His hand ghosting over his dagger in case he needed to wield it.

Good thing, too, because they had finally, after almost a day of travelling, arrived at their destination deep in the Highlands.

The Peak of Rivers.

Chapter 7

Najmah's legs were absolutely aching, though the warm wind, bright as Empress Island skies, and grass comforting the soles of her feet helped alleviate the pain. At least the weather hadn't turned for the worse, and that sent a zing of optimism through her the further they travelled on foot.

Whilst she'd gone on expeditions to the Highlands before, they were researcher expeditions. Set at a far slower and more leisurely pace than what her father and Ameer were treading at now, lively conversation flowing between them as smoothly as the rivers they walked along. The noise of a gushing waterfall reached her ears, growing louder as they arrived at the beginning of the Peak of Rivers, where Highland dragons often perched, according to Ameer.

And in that perching spot lay the secret with regards to hatching the egg.

Najmah pressed a hand to her satchel—the egg was nestled inside, wrapped in about a million layers of parchment to ensure it couldn't be damaged. To ensure that the little baby dragon cooped up inside wouldn't be hurt.

Though dragons were formidable creatures, warriors amongst the skies after becoming adults, they were also great companions to those that nurtured them, and absolutely adorable as baby dragons who struggled to breathe fire and fly. And Najmah, though it was for research, had a good feeling about this particular dragon in more ways than one.

“Up this way,” Ameer said, pointing to the right, past where the rivers in the Highlands merged to form this peak. A hill to climb, Najmah noticed, and it was steep too, grass flitting about in the breeze.

“There are some steps we have to climb,” Ameer said, turning to her. “Are you okay with that now, or would you like to take a small rest first?”

Najmah shivered at the concern dripping in Ameer's eyes, as though she was a flower to be protected. Then she cursed herself for her thoughts, reminding herself that she was here for research and nothing besides.

Despite the words her father had said to her this morning.

“Let’s go now,” she said, strapping her satchel tighter around her shoulder. Though her entire body ached and begged her to rest, the excitement over finally uncovering a breakthrough in her research promptly quelled the pain.

She was close. So close to completing her research and, with that, cementing her degree in the grounds of success. And hopefully progressing to the highest stage thereafter, a doctorate, from which the real learning began.

The climb was difficult, though, that much was true. With Ameer leading the way whilst Najmah’s father walked alongside her in case she fell, the tall grass jabbed at her legs and arms and the wind grew a little colder. As though forced to by the hilly terrain, not by choice. The sun dipped behind the purple trees, which now looked dark and mysterious instead of lush and full of life.

It was as if Najmah had blinked and the Highlands transformed from scenic to something to be reckoned with.

Najmah heard a howl in the distance, and her body froze. Before restarting her climb with a little stumble. Her father and Ameer continued walking, unfazed, as if nothing was the matter, as if the forest had disguised the noise from their ears, reserved to terrorise Najmah only.

She had gone on expeditions to the Highlands before, but never this far. Never on terrain such as what shifted beneath her steps.

“What was that?” Najmah asked, leaning in closer to her father, one moment away from gripping his sleeve for comfort. “That noise, I mean.”

“A wolf,” her father said, the words in misalignment with the smile on his face.

“A wolf coming after us?” Najmah grabbed her dagger from the side of her long dress, her headscarf flaying as she did so. Gripped the hilt tight, eyes swivelling as she continued the climb, heart thudding her ribs. “Will we have to fight?”

Her father’s fingers on her forearm, lowering the hand holding the dagger. “Relax, Najmah,” he said, voice soothing and calm. Warm, like it had been since she was a child. “Monsters do not venture this far. We are safe for now.”

As Najmah’s heart rate lowered again, albeit slowly, her apprehension gave way to curiosity. She was a researcher, after all. “Why don’t they come out here?”

“Because of that which is in your bag,” her father said. “Dragons do not attack humans, yes. But you know better than I that they attack other animals as if there is an ancient revenge story at play. Especially when tackling predators such as wolves.”

“So the wolves learn over time not to come here?” Najmah asked. “But how can we be sure that I won’t get attacked by the dragon for having an egg?”

“Dragons are our companions. Even wild ones know, on instinct, not to attack us. That we do not mean harm. There may be those scarred from negative experiences with us, but otherwise they naturally grow to love us. Think of them as flying, scaly cats, if you will.”

Najmah laughed, and the tension in her chest dissipated as though it had never existed. The waterfall in the distance gushed with a glory Najmah had never heard before, and the glistening grass at her feet waved her along. No longer jabbing her, but nipping at her heels to hurry her along.

And most curiously, her satchel began almost vibrating, as though sharing her excitement. It took all the self-restraint within Najmah not to open it and check on the egg. Wrapping the parchment back over it would also be cumbersome, so patience was a virtue she needed to heed.

“The mistake you made,” Ameer said, his eyes twinkling like Farah’s often did, “is deciding to take the egg back with you to the university. You should’ve brought it here, since the waters here are special.”

“Special?”

“I did not connect the dots until we arrived at the Peak of Rivers. But this poison you spoke of—I believe it infuses into the waters here at the Peak, and dissipates as it reaches the rivers downstream.”

“Infuses? What do you mean?” Najmah racked her brains, pausing for a moment at the base of a tree and leaning against the trunk. “I…don’t understand.”

“You mentioned that the poison is said to release right as the egg hatches, correct? Well, the eggs can only hatch when inside the water here. When at its typical resting spot, surrounded by the environment it was created in that a laboratory cannot create. And it is well known amongst those who venture here that—”

“The waters of the Peak have slight healing properties,” her father suddenly breathed out, likely connecting the dots in his own mind now.

Najmah’s limbs shook with excitement at the discovery of a lifetime finally being within her grasp. “This is amazing,” she exclaimed, jumping away from the tree and readjusting her satchel. “You’re amazing! Let’s go, we have no time to waste.”

And now Najmah was the one at the front of the pack, leading them to the summit of the Peak, a surge of energy thrumming through her legs as she climbed. Atmosphere almost glowing around her, sunlight poking through gaps in leaves to light her path up the hill beside the rushing waterfall.

And then, shortly after, the most wondrous sound met her ears, with the most wondrous sight accompanying it.

Chapter 8

Ameer heard the Highland dragon before he saw it. The noise it sent upon entering the atmosphere around them was majestic, something between the hardened howl of a wolf and the delicate chirps of an Easthome bird. An almost all encompassing noise which surrounded the air around them, filling Ameer's ears as his head swivelled on a pivot to locate where the dragon itself was.

Gusts of wind accompanying the flaps of the dragon’s wings, the tall grass bracing itself against Ameer’s legs for balance.

He scanned for a moment, one hand shielding his eyes, searching, before a bright purple wing sliced through a cloud. The two white-grey tufts splitting apart. The rest of the dragon's body dipped through that slice afterwards, revealing a long scaly neck before the head finally tucked through the gap.

Beady eyes, staring right at them as it descended towards the Peak of Rivers, yet eyes that would light up and twinkle when that spot between their horns was rubbed by its human companion.

“Ya Allah,” he heard Najmah breathe out from behind him. “That is…”

“Lost for words?” Ameer asked over the sounds of the dragon’s wings flapping. The wind picking up in the process. The sheer spectacle blocking out all his senses. “I can barely hear myself,” he shouted.

Najmah turned to him, and said something. But her words were lost in the space between them, and truly if he did hear it, he knew he would never have remembered it. Because that face framed so elegantly by a black headscarf being fluttered left and right—that face held eyes that sparkled far more than any dragon could’ve.

In fact, if a thousand dragons were placed between them, each of their eyes holding a sun and a moon respectively—Najmah’s eyes of wondrous curiosity would be brighter, more magnificent, than them all.

And a seed burrowed into Ameer’s chest, right into the deepest portions of it. Then began growing, and a wish sprouted from that seed—the wish that he could go the rest of his life seeing that wonder in her eyes…perhaps even causing that wonder in her eyes.

He rued the direction his thoughts were heading in, but the thudding of his heart and racing of his mind couldn’t be ignored anymore. He couldn’t just clamp down on his emotions—emotions were meant to be felt, after all, not bottled in a vial and left to fester.

His mother, just before he’d left that morning, had pulled him aside and, as she always annoyingly did, ruffled his hair.

“What is it this time?” he’d asked, jerking his head away from her hands and glancing to the café entrance, outside which Najmah and her father were waiting for him.

“All it takes is a question,” his mother said. “Just a question. Only the smallest of pushes can send a boulder tumbling to the base of a hill, after all.”

“I don’t get it.”

And truthfully, Ameer hadn’t wanted to get it. He needed to leave and get on with the travelling before sundown took over the kingdom.

“What I mean is thus—I can see in your eyes your wishes. I have known you for your entire existence on this earth—do you truly believe I would not know what you are thinking?” Her smile was gentler this time, more wistful, nostalgic almost. “All you need is to ask a question, and the doors of possibility will open. You do not necessarily have to step through, either, but the doors will remain shut so long as the question passes unasked. Whether the doors of your alchemy, the doors of your spirituality through asking Allah, or the doors of…marriage.”

Ameer’s face had burned like the sun was in the café with them. “I’m not thinking about that.”

“Which one of the three?”

“You know exactly which one,” he said, hiking his bag up his shoulder. “Anyway, I need to leave now. Don’t wish to keep them waiting any longer.”

“I shall see you tomorrow, then,” his mother said, kissing him on the cheek. Ameer had returned the kiss, before heading outside to meet Najmah and her father.

But now…now that the Highland dragon had appeared in all its glory, in all its majesty…Ameer thought about posing that question. Seeing where the possibilities lay, as his mother had alluded to.

But for now, he slipped that to the rear of his mind as Najmah swivelled her head, watching the Highland dragon descend upon its perch. Her eyes still encapsulated by a contagious sense of discovery.

The dragon settled down nicely, adjusted its scales slightly to get comfortable. Sniffed out some smoke in an almost indignant huff, like a child almost, before turning its head to meet theirs.

And Ameer spotted it in the Highland dragon’s eyes—a little twinkle. As if the smile of a gracious host. Inviting them closer. The wind fell into a comforting quiet, the rustle of nearby trees fading as Ameer walked past Najmah and took in the lovely flowery scent of the Highland dragon, then he said—

“Do you want to pet it?”

Najmah gasped. “P-p-pet it?” Her eyebrows furrowed. “But…well, I understand we can pet wild dragons if they are amenable to it…but even then…”

“It doesn’t bite,” Ameer said with a chuckle.

“But it can burn my entire skull off.”

“True. But it won’t.” Ameer met her gaze, a light smile playing on his lips. “You can trust me on that, I swear my life on it.”

He ignored Ibrahim, standing a little further away, watching the interaction with a quiet curiosity in his eyes.

All it takes is a question.

Yes, all it took was a question, but Ameer didn’t have the courage for it. Not yet anyway. There was a right time and place for things, he told himself—but that only harkened his mind to a piece of advice his father had given him when training in the Highlands. An advice that spawned now in his mind as though it had laid dormant, waiting his entire life for this exact moment.

The advice that—

“The idea of there being a right time and place, son, is one that requires nuance. Yes, there are times and places more appropriate for certain types of actions. You would not, I hope, decide to conduct a practice spar at a relative’s janazah. Or annoy your mother when fajr’s sleepiness still brims in her eyes. That is a mistake I have made far too many a time.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ameer had claimed, only ten at the time. But even he knew something like that was wrong. He wasn’t stupid, after all. And also, his mother’s anger was something terrifying to behold, and he knew never to do anything which would invite it upon himself.

His father had laid a hand on his shoulder. “There are moments Ameer when you must be the one to create the right time and place for something to happen. It rests on your shoulders. And no one, other than you, will be able to do it. Do not let those moments pass without action. You may regret your paralysis for the rest of your existence.”

Was now one of those moments?

All it takes is a question.

Ameer removed his attention from the inner workings of his mind and memories of the past. Eyes finding the majestic purple dragon that watched him curiously.

They had a dragon to hatch, after all. He bounded ahead of Najmah, his own excitement brimming as he approached the Highland dragon.

Smiled at it. Reached out a hand slowly, right to the dragon’s scaly face. Its nose reached down, the texture fascinating to see the intricate details of up close. The dragon sniffed Ameer’s hand a few times, then its tongue came out. Licked his fingers once, sampling a taste like a pastry.

“That’s a good girl,” Ameer cooed, and the dragon appreciated the attention.

One would’ve thought that Ameer’s hand was either about to be bitten off or scorched to dead bits of flesh. But Ameer, who often ventured into the Highlands, had been in this situation before. Knew that he was fine, and safe.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Najmah asked, hiking her long dress up a little to avoid getting dirt on its hem. She stood beside Ameer now, biting her lip with worry. “What if it—I don’t know—decides it doesn’t like us?”

“What if horse carriages decide to randomly explode when you’re inside?” Ameer said. “Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

Once satisfied with the scent of Ameer, the dragon licked its lips and then lowered itself to Najmah’s hand. Her hand trembled as it hovered beneath the dragon’s nose—and Ameer wished he could hold her still, wrapping his fingers around her forearm with another hand steadying the small of her spine.

But he couldn’t. Because that was haram, unless they were married, and he didn’t want to sully the quiet ease that rested between them now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment with his ponderings of the future.

Even if the future could’ve been greater than anything he’d have imagined.

He barely knew the woman more than a few days ago, and now he was getting ideas for the rest of his life.

All it takes is a question.

“Now you can pet it,” Ameer said, watching Najmah’s eyes widen. Those eyes with those amazing twinkles, far better than any dragon’s, and that curiosity he wished to sate and incite for the rest of his life.

A gust of wind passed across the Peak of Rivers, and as it brushed over Ameer’s hair, ruffling it like his mother’s touch, it removed the doubt festering within him and carried it to the farthest edges of the earth.

Never to be recovered.

All it takes is a question.

And Ameer had made up his mind to ask it.

Now—well, it was just about creating the right time and place.

Chapter 9

Najmah couldn’t believe the situation she was in. Only a few days ago she’d been in the throes of despair, knee deep in dragon research with her own experiments yielding absolutely nothing—not a single thing—in the way of results. In the way of even a single clue that could lead to her discovering the hatching method for the Highland dragon. And now…somehow, she was with the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, touching the soft fur between the two horns of a dragon, and listening as that dragon let out grumbles of pleasure from deep within its chest.

And Najmah’s heart swooned at the thought of exploring the world with Ameer by her side—discovering everything about themselves and about the kingdom around them, bettering the world for the sake of Allah along the way. Half her deen, as everyone mentioned marriage as being.

But she didn’t want to think that far ahead, especially with the advice her father had given her this morning.

The dragon nuzzled her hand, and the flowery scent teasing her nose felt almost otherworldly. The chirps of birds in the distance as the sun waned, creating this almost ethereal yellow-orange tinge that painted itself across the sky.

“You’re such a good dragon, aren’t you?” Najmah found herself saying, as if on impulse, which caused the dragon to rumble more.

“Good dragon?” Ameer asked.

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well, dragons have genders, you know. Maybe good girl or boy.”

Najmah rubbed the dragon again, and its head leaned into her touch. Horned dragons were females, so she said, “You’re such a good girl dragon, aren’t you?”

The dragon, as if in response, crooned some more, and Ameer let out a muffled chuckle at the scene. Even her father, standing a little ways away, watched with a gentle smile on his features, looking years younger.

It was after ten or so minutes of petting the dragon that Najmah remembered why she was here in the first place. To hatch the egg, of course. And make sure the university didn’t kick her out for completely failing her research project.

“You said we’re here to hatch the egg, correct?” she said to Ameer, whilst her father went ahead and petted the dragon and spoke to it in the meantime. “How do we go about that?”

“Using the streams around us,” Ameer said, pointing to flowing water a few metres from where they stood. “A hatched dragon releases the poison into the water, so monsters who drink the water don’t survive. Yet paradoxically, the hatched dragon must feel the poisoned water to hatch and then release its own poison.”

Najmah thought on it for a moment. “So we hold the egg inside? We can’t leave it there because it will go downstream.”

Ameer tapped his temple. “Usually they stay on the river and hatch further down, but this one must have been knocked off. Which is precisely how your expedition came across it so far away from the Peak. You would have never been able to hatch it without the poisoned water.”

“And perhaps the poisoned water is the key to your caramel flavouring,” Najmah said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, can humans drink it and survive?”

Ameer thought for a moment, finger on chin. “I suppose so. It’s been said to have healing properties, after all…healing properties that if you extracted and infused into a latte—”

“It would make it a healing coffee,” Najmah finished off, grinning. “A two-in-one, so to speak.”

“You’re brilliant,” Ameer said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, before he lowered his gaze to the ground beneath them and gestured to the stream. “Should we hatch it, then?”

“Yes, let’s,” Najmah said. She pulled out the parchment-covered egg and slowly unfurled it, stuffing the parchment back into her bag. The egg sat in all its blue-turquoise glory, and the baby dragon would also be blue before turning purple as it matured.

“Just place the dragon inside the water and let it rush over the egg. After a few minutes, the hatching process should be induced.”

“Won’t the adult dragon be against us hatching a baby?” Najmah asked. “That could be its mother for all we know.”

“They’re our companions, remember,” Ameer said. “They’re just as happy as you are, probably. It will probably come over to watch.”

“Fair enough,” Najmah said, crouching down in front of the stream. Holding the egg in two careful hands, before lowering that into the water. Against her hands, the water was cool, and she could almost feel the poison causing the little scuffs and marks on her hands from writing so much to close up and heal.

It was a wonderful feeling.

And that wonderful feeling caused her to recall what her father had said earlier that morning. His words of advice. Najmah had been readying her bag for the day ahead, food stored and egg safely stowed in rolls of parchment.

Her father had ducked into her room, leaning through the doorway, eyes meeting hers. “What are you thinking?”

Najmah, at first, was confused. “About the research? Well, I hope we get answers today. It wouldn’t do to fail an exam for the first time in my life.”

“Not about that,” her father said, rubbing his chin. He lowered his head, looking awfully embarrassed for some reason. As though this was a conversation he never thought he’d be having with his daughter. “I meant…this Ameer boy.”

“Oh,” was what left Najmah’s mouth, a mouth quickly running dry. “As in…what do you mean?”

“You are at the age where marriage is something on your mind, as much as you choose to deny it when asked directly. Ameer’s ambitious nature as you described seems to match your own. You are unique, my flower, and he appears to be the same from what you’ve told your mother.”

Her mother had ratted out their conversation to her father. Of course she had.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”

“I’m not pushing you towards anything,” he said, holding up both hands and fully stepping into her room. “Do not mistake my words for that. I am merely extending advice. That if there is something you want, you should grasp it with both hands, and you will always have our support. You should not wait for what you want to approach you. Your good studies and place at the university didn’t fall into your lap out of nothingness. It would be unwise to think that marriage would fare any differently.”

“Right,” Najmah had said. “Thanks, Dad.”

Her father had rubbed her hair, the action so loving a zing of warmth went straight to her heart. “You are most welcome.”

Najmah’s thoughts faded back to the present, her father’s advice now ringing in her mind. Marriage was, well, a scary prospect. Not fully being with that person, at least when following Islamic rules, then agreeing to spend the rest of one’s lives together, in an official contract recognised by Allah, publicly announced to the world.

One moment, the other was a stranger.

In the next, they became a husband.

It was scary.

And yet…Najmah saw the love between her parents. The light touches, the inside jokes, the soft kisses when they thought she wasn’t looking, the way their lives revolved around each other as naturally as the earth revolved around the sun, the ease one could bring to the other when something painful occurred.

She wanted that for herself, by Allah she did.

But was this the opportunity the likes of which her father had spoken about?

Or was her mind deluding her into thinking it so?

For now, a greater worry pierced her mind. Her arms, the ones tightly holding the egg in the rushing water, were aching beyond anything she’d felt before. And the constant travelling across the day wasn’t helping matters.

Her hands, pain settling in, were lowering by the second. Her shoulders burning, upper back screaming in protest as though a dragon was sat atop her spine, and only the first signs of cracking on the egg itself.

It still had some way to go, clearly.

“Have you got a name for the dragon?” Ameer asked.

Najmah had completely forgotten about that, the detail skipping her mind with all the day’s travelling.

“Skylar,” she said under a strained breath.

“I like it. A Highland dragon that will grace the Empress skies. Skylar.”

It sounded lyrical coming from his mouth, but Najmah’s aching hands and slipping fingers and burning quads made it difficult to form a reply.

“Let me help you,” Ameer said, as naturally as breathing air. He jumped to the other side of the stream, which was only a metre or so wide, and crouched down the same as Najmah. Extended his hands into the middle, and carefully wrapped them around the centre of the egg whilst Najmah held the bottom.

Gentle and delicate hands—making sure with utmost care that his fingers didn’t make contact with hers.

And that singular detail, for a reason Najmah couldn’t fathom, cemented her decision. This dragon would hatch, and Ameer would find his solution to the latte problem—but Najmah wanted more.

So much more.

She recalled her father’s advice again, her father who was still petting the dragon whilst allowing Najmah and Ameer to have their moment together.

Najmah had to pose the question. There was no doubt about it. She would deny herself no longer.

Staring into his bright green eyes, Najmah said, “There’s something I need to ask you.”

Ameer’s eyes widened, and Najmah felt his grip on the egg tighten. “Wait, but I have something to ask you too.”

“I’ll go first.”

“No, I’ll go first.”

“But I’m the one with the egg.”

“But I’m the one who brought you here.”

“That was my father, actually.”

“That dragon would’ve mauled you if it wasn’t for me.”

“You were the one who said the dragon would like me.”

A chuckle. “Don’t twist my words.”

Najmah’s arms strained further, the egg cracking as the dragon continued hatching. “Words aren’t the only things being twisted here.”

Ameer adjusted his grip to give her more support. “How about we have a truce?”

“A truce? That doesn’t solve the problem of who will ask the question first.”

Ameer grinned, and Najmah’s heart thumped louder than an earthquake. “How about we ask the question together? At the same time.”

Najmah nodded, not at all wondering how Ameer knew that his question was the same as hers. “An excellent solution, indeed,” she said.

And whilst looking into each other’s eyes, they counted down from three to one, before asking for what they wished for.

For each other.

Sharing a hatching dragon egg between them, sharing their smiles, sharing their respective wishes, and sharing the rest of their existences forever and ever and ever.

JazakAllahu Khayran for reading!

Feel free to read any of my other free short stories, or click the all fiction tab above for info on where to find my longer works.