In the darkest, gloomiest depths of a cave stood an ancient shrine, surely soon to be forgotten. On its altar sat a man clad in black clothing, and on his lap sat a girl. They seemed to be enormously comfortable in one another’s presence, and they were studying what appeared to be a thin board that floated in the air. The girl, Francheska, was murmuring to herself; caught between the man’s sturdy chest and long arms, she compared herself to the treasure at the center of a coiled dragon’s watchful form.
The blue flames of the torches set on the temple walls spread cyan light throughout the cave. This glow highlighted the mystical gradient of Francheska’s hair—the strands were black at their roots and became silver at the end.
Without caring for the hair’s owner, the man twisted his long fingers into it and tugged.
A cry fell from her lips. “For goodness’ sake! I understand that you find this tedious, but could you please keep your fingers out of my hair?!”
The man huffed. “There would be nothing to find ‘tedious’ if you acted with a little more haste.”
Frustrated at herself for letting his sudden mischievous touch catch her off guard, Francheska turned to him and tightened her coral lips into a pout. However, even when she glared at the man whose arms still surrounded her, he responded with complete indifference. In fact, it seemed he had only let go of her hair to reach for the board before them—the skill tablet.
He tapped on it with a commanding finger. “I shall have this one, Fran. The one I sampled before, though a different flavor, was simply delectable!”
“I had always thought that dragons ate little but meat. I never realized they possessed such a sweet tooth,” she said.
✦ ✦ ✦
The man was pointing at a picture of a dessert dotted with colorful fruits accompanied by a description in a mysterious language. The image was so vibrant and detailed that it almost looked like one could reach out and grab it. While his gaze usually exuded arrogance, right now, the man’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. Francheska felt a smile rise to her lips. There was a flame alight within the golden depths of his eyes, and it was such an endearing sight that she had to bring a curled hand to her mouth to hide her smile as she giggled. Ignoring the way he pouted in response to that, she brought a long, pale finger to the center of the tablet and pressed the square button displayed there.
The very next moment, a sizable paper carton appeared in her hands, seemingly out of thin air. Francheska placed the weighty box on the altar and opened the lid. The air was filled with the refreshing smell of tart fruit and the rich, sweet scent of sugary butter. The man’s finely sculpted nose twitched, and Francheska’s smile widened as she noticed the fire in his eyes intensifying. Nothing made her happier than knowing that her skill was at the root of such excitement.
“Here you are, Alk,” she said. “One custard tart with seasonal fruit.”
“I am much obliged.”
Inside the box sat a perfectly identical version of the tart that had been displayed on the tablet. It was cut into six slices. The glossy apricot glaze was like the cherry on top of an already gorgeous dessert. Francheska’s violet eyes softened as she offered a piece of the treasure to Alkerag. He gave her a cool nod before taking the slice in his large hand. He immediately bit into it, and the rainbow of fruit vanished behind a row of pearly fangs in mere seconds.
Francheska let out a relieved sigh—judging from the way he had eaten it, Alkerag had enjoyed this offering just as much as the others.
In reality, the man who was holding her on his lap and gazing intently at the floating tablet was not a human at all. Known as Alkerag, he was a giant black dragon said to be an ancient lord of calamity. Francheska had been thrown into this cave as his sacrifice but had managed to win him over with her skill. If she hadn’t, she would be long since dead. While she was, in theory, walking on eggshells—offending the arrogant, almighty dragon could well mean her days were over—she was fairly confident that he held some affection toward her. After all, he allowed her to call him by a nickname and to use her skill while perched upon his lap.
He must be awfully fond of my skill...
Being reminded of her current predicament, Francheska sighed before reaching out for the remains of the tart. The idea of testing out the fruits of her skill seemed far more appealing to her right now than ruminating over difficult matters. She could do that later. Ever since she had mastered her skill, she had become aware of how much less restrictive she had become when it came to her own appetite. Throwing manners to the wind, she sank her teeth into the very end of the triangle-shaped slice.
“Mmm! Is there anything as wonderful as the crunch of freshly baked shortcrust pastry?”
Though the tart wasn’t hot, it couldn’t have been baked very long ago. There was a generous layer of cream that had yet to leech into the pastry’s crust. That left it crunchy, crisp, and firm, and the crust of the pâte sablée pastry exploded in her mouth with each bite. Behind it all was a subtly sweet almond fragrance. The next thing of note was the thick custard that had been woven with vanilla. Together with the refreshing fruit flavors, it brought a rush of new life to Francheska’s taste buds. As that rich custard made of eggs and milk melted on her tongue, it mixed with the slightly sour fruit juice and added the perfect touch of acidity to an ingredient that would otherwise dominate with its sweetness. Satisfied, she swallowed it all down.
“The contrast between the crunchy pastry and the soft custard filling makes it taste all the better. I do so like fruit that isn’t overwhelmingly acidic.”
“You do seem to have an aversion to sour flavors, Alk,” Francheska said. She then watched as the dragon helped himself to another piece, this time eating only the fruit and custard from the top of the tart. She decided to try it for herself.
Crisp strawberries dripped with sweet juice, and orange slices burst delightfully between her teeth. The sweet peach compote was tender enough for her tongue to squash it completely, and that only made the sugary acidity of the bursting blueberries that followed all the more prominent. The thick custard stepped in next, spreading over her tongue and gently soothing it where the sour flavors had battered it. The combination of custard and fruit was indeed delicious.
However, this was a tart. And, in Francheska’s opinion, it needed the pastry’s firm texture. As she enjoyed the leftover crisp base with just a thin layer of custard, an unconscious, silly smile rose to her face.
“The fruit is lovely with the custard,” she began. “But I think I prefer the crust, especially where the bottom meets the side and the heat from the oven has given it a slight bitterness... Yes, a tough exterior is what I really like. Maybe with a bit of prickliness too...”
The dragon stared at her as she took her final bite, as though she had said something beyond his comprehension. “Are you perhaps...?” But then, he gave her a satisfied nod. “Never mind. I think I know what you mean.”