The Dragon's Secret Name

Chapter 7

Kate’s POV

The silence that follows my proposal is almost suffocating. It’s not the kind of silence that happens when two people run out of things to say.

No.

It’s dense, heavy, as if even the air inside the cathedral has decided to hold its breath, waiting for what comes next.

Dan doesn’t answer right away. He just stands there, watching me, studying me. It’s almost like every inch of my bones, my skin, my soul is being examined, weighed, measured, and judged.

His eyes don’t blink, not even once. And for one uncomfortable moment, I feel like I should shrink, lower my chin, and look away. But I don’t. I refuse to—despite my heart hammering between adrenaline and anxiety.

His tail slides across the rough floor, stirring up dust. It curls slowly, like a restless snake, and then cracks against the stone. Even it seems to have an opinion about what’s going on.

Dan takes a deep breath. Almost imperceptible, but I notice the way his shoulders rise and fall, the way his nostrils flare, like someone trying to decide whether to swallow what they feel or spit it out.

When he finally opens his mouth to speak, the voice that comes out isn’t laced with sarcasm like I expected. It’s lower, rougher, slower—and what I hear makes the floor vanish beneath my feet.

"You were the little rat climbing my scales..."

And then, dizzyingly, he laughs. A breathy laugh—part amused, part disbelieving, part you’ve got to be kidding me.

He throws his head back and laughs with all the teeth in his mouth.

“Oh, of course…” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Of course it’s you.”

He laughs again, harder. But it’s not a joyful laugh. It’s the kind of laugh people learn to have after too much time in the pit—because if they don’t laugh, they’ll explode.

“Thousands of humans in this damned divided world… and the scruffy little rat who was running that night and woke me from my nap shows up years later, stealing me from a fae collector after making him believe she’s his daughter. But of course she does.”

That’s the confirmation I needed—the answer I’ve waited for.

Still, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m standing in front of the one who saved my life, and I can’t even say a simple thank you. On the contrary, I stole his Secret Name, and now this man—this dragon—is bound to obey me, no matter what I say or do to soften the situation.

It’s strange in a way I couldn’t name, even if I tried. A way I never learned how to handle. My chest tightens. My throat closes. And for some absurd reason, I start noticing things that don’t matter at all—the way the light filters through the dusty stained-glass, the sound of the wind slipping through cracks in the roof, the crooked shape of a crack in the floor.

I talk about anything, everything—anything but the fact that I’m here, in front of him, the wingless dragon who saved a ragged, lost little girl... and who now wears around his neck and wrists the chains I pulled tight to silence him.

I feel ridiculous, small—a walking paradox—trying to find a way, somewhere between pride and purpose, not to crumble under the weight of this guilt disguised as pragmatism.

"Yeah... It’s me," I finally say, letting go of the shackles and wrapping my arms around myself.

"When I heard a black, wingless dragon would be for sale at the auction, I did everything I could to find a way in without being discovered—hoping I’d find the one who saved me that day and walk out with him."

I take two steps back. I think he deserves to know my reasons, but the words keep slipping away, and I still don’t have the strength to meet Dan’s eyes. Even so, I can feel his gaze weighing down on me—heavier than the silence.

I open my mouth again, but the words die in my throat. And before I can try again, Dan sighs. A real sigh, deep, pulled from the bottom of his lungs.

"You can tell me about the trouble you went through to steal me in plain sight some other time, young mistress."

His voice is low now, rougher, slower. The laughter is already a fading echo.

"Far be it from me to give you orders from now on," he says—almost ironic, but not quite—"but at the moment, I’m more interested in why you need my help in particular. I wasn’t the only magical creature for sale there, and I certainly wasn’t the easiest to steal. So tell me what your big plans for me are—and why me?"

Hearing him be so direct startles me a little, and I finally lift my face—meeting a more intense version of the serious look he gave me earlier.

His slit pupils gleam sharper than they should, reflecting pieces of light from the stained-glass. And for a moment, I’m not here anymore. I’m back—eight years ago, at that moment when an eye just like this one—massive and powerful—looked at me in the middle of chaos, in the middle of escape, in the middle of what felt like the end.

No matter how human he may look now, I’m even more sure that this is the dragon who saved me. And it’s in that perfect collapse between memory and present that the words finally return.

Simple. Lodged in my throat. Inevitable.

"Because if you saved me back then, maybe you can help me save my sister too. Because I ran… and I left her behind in the Pale King’s claws."

Just saying it makes my eyes sting, and I quickly turn away—spinning on my heels, needing him out of my line of sight.

Suddenly, the bold girl who fooled two old men, broke into an auction, and thought up quick escapes doesn’t exist anymore. Only the same desperate child remains—the one who hates herself for running, for slipping out of that nightmare at the first opening… leaving behind the only person who truly felt like family.

But I can’t fall apart—not in front of him, not in front of anyone.

I rub my eyes and straighten my slumped posture, then turn back to face him, doing my best not to get lost in the darkness surrounding the gold of the dragon-man’s gaze.

“Do we have a deal?”

Dan’s tail sways again, flicking the floor without making a sound. He keeps analyzing me, frowns—then lets out another sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“What choice do I have, in the end?” he replies. “Even if I didn’t want to help, you could just force me to do it.”

Something about the way he says that makes me pause.

“Even if you didn’t want to?” I repeat, uncertain. “Do you want to help?”

Dan shrugs, tilting his head so that his chin lifts slightly. His expression is one of disinterest—or at least that’s how it looks.

“I could say no just to annoy you—or yes just to please you. But the truth is, even if I weren’t bound to you, I’d have no reason to refuse. Just like I didn’t refuse the first time.”

For a few long seconds, I just stand there, trying to process what I’ve heard.

My brain chases his words, trying to understand them, sort them, label them… but nothing fits right.

It’s too much at once.

It’s that same creature who once saved me now saying, with almost ridiculous simplicity, that he’d help again—that he’d help either way. That even without collar, shackles, or Secret Name, he still would have helped.

And that… that messes everything up.

Deep down, I didn’t know if I believed he was that kind of being. Maybe I didn’t even believe such beings existed—the kind that do something just because they want to.

Something squeezes in my chest. Strange. Uncomfortable.

My eyes stay locked on his—even though now it’s the dragon-man who avoids looking at me.

But I notice: it’s not as hard to face him now as it was a few minutes ago.

What pulls me out of my spiral isn’t a thought.

It’s not even the question rising on the tip of my tongue.

It’s a sound.

Or rather… the absence of it.

Dan’s tail, which hadn’t stopped twitching like a nervous metronome, suddenly freezes. His entire body stiffens—shoulders tight, invisible wings tensing as if they still existed. His expression vanishes like a candle snuffed out.

“Be quiet,” he hisses, his voice shifting in half a second from casual to predator.

I open my mouth to ask what’s going on—but I don’t need to.

The next moment, I feel it too.

It’s subtle—but not for someone who’s learned to live between veils, in shadows, between what normal humans can’t see.

The air thickens. The temperature shifts—not hot or cold, but like the space between the molecules itself has changed. It’s as if an invisible sheet of glass has been placed between us and the world.

Dan tilts his head slightly, slit-pupiled eyes narrowing, the pupils so thin they nearly disappear. His jaw locks. His tail slides slowly along the floor, calculating something.

“Magical presence...” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “And it’s close. Very close.”

My whole body reacts. My heart starts pounding so fast it hurts.

Instinctively, my hand shoots to the inner pocket of my jacket, reaching for the document that holds his Secret Name—because if I have to, I know I can use it.

But what terrifies me is that part of me doesn’t want to.

Dan takes half a step, turning toward the cathedral’s half-open door, his eyes glowing like golden headlights in the shadows.

“If you can run fast... get ready to. If not… you’d better figure out how to get these shackles off me. Fast.”

The silence that follows doesn’t last long.

Outside… something moves.

It’s not a friend.

And it’s definitely not human.