51

“Stop squirming, Netra.”

Netra, of course, didn’t listen. With a furious clicking of her talons and a raising of her spines, she fought her way out of Anzi’s grip and leaped to the ground, leaving the soldier rubbing her scraped chin. The dragon immediately trotted off to inspect the market stalls, tail swishing behind her like a cat’s.

“Those things need a trim,” Anzi muttered. “And you need to stop eating. Gods, you’re fatter than a palace pet.”

She was. It had been adorable at first, and Anzi had been powerless to resist over-feeding her whenever the dragon screeched and wailed for more (what if she really was starving?). But the gluttonous habits were clearly too much. Instead of walking, the reptile wobbled and waddled on her clawed feet, belly hanging down between her legs with an almost comedic curve. But she was longer, too, and stood taller at the shoulders. Anzi had been toting her around in her a