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“You just want a bigger dragon,” Jade says.
“Is that wrong? You guys like Rufus and Gordon, and I do too, but I also like big dragons. And you know, prettier ones, too.”
“Rufus is pretty,” Jade says.
Coral laughs. “Sure he is.”
“I like the little yellow blobs?—”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Coral asks. “You like his blobs?”
“Fine, then who would you bond?” Jade is full of righteous indignation at her sister’s attack on Rufus, but I can’t really blame Coral.
Rufus is not attractive by blessed standards either. Impressively powerful and strong, yes. Attractive? No.
“I mean, I’d like a red one, but there aren’t many, so I guess a big silver one would be fine.”
“You would look horrible with silver hair,” Jade says. “Do you really want to look like a granny?”
When I walk toward them, they stop talking. Luckily Rufus wasn’t here to hear their evaluation. He returns just after I do, bringing a report about the preparations of the earth blessed.
Asteria will carry Gideon and Coral both. Liz’s little sister deserves some discomfort for her disloyalty, even if she only spoke the truth.
“Wait,” Coral says. “I want to ride with Rufus.”
I walk away, unwilling to police Liz’s small siblings—nothing ever seems to make them all happy. She can handle the details of that herself. I look around at the clean lines of blessed, all standing outside the convention center as discussed, many of them with their bonded humans.
Some notably without.
Interestingly, the blessed who are without their humans don’t look angry or resigned. Most of them look almost relieved. I wonder whether controlling insubordinate humans all the time was taking a toll on them as well. I really wish my father had mentioned the nature of the bond and that it could be a real asset if we were willing to learn from the humans and trust them.
He almost made it sound like the humans were destined to be our enemies. I suppose there’s some truth to that, when they understand what exactly will happen when we take the heart back. The earth blessed at least are in nice, clean lines. The strike blessed are milling around at the edge, clearly irritated that the earth blessed, as our shock troops, will be traveling first. The water blessed don’t look much less annoyed, but they’re mostly churning around in the nearby bay.
Liz walks up, dragging the bags I left with her. When I shifted this time, I fashioned straps to the saddle to which her rectangular bags can be attached. It only takes her a moment to attach them, which is good, because it has started to rain.
“That’s the problem with ripping the roof off,” Liz mutters. “You’re stuck getting drenched at the whims of Mother Nature.”
A little rain won’t hurt you, I say.
But she rolls her eyes. “Tell that to my leather boots.”
I can make you new boots the next time I shift. Dragon leather. It won’t be harmed by something as inconsequential as rain.
“We definitely need to talk about this,” she says as she climbs up my back. The rain causes her to slip—twice—and I see the point she’s making.
Sammy doesn’t seem to have any problems as he scampers onto Gordon’s back like a squirrel sprinting up a tree. Liz must have helped them clip Fluff Dog’s little box with holes on the sides to Gordon’s saddle, which is probably for the best. Rufus becomes agitated and overreacts much more quickly than Gordon does, so keeping the tiny irritant with the calmer of the two is a good call.
“Have you considered that it’s going to be really cold in Iceland? Because I’m going to need you to make me, like, a big wooly coat when we land.”
I snort. You won’t need a coat to stay warm around me.
“Right. You have that fire-blowing air-warming magic. I almost forgot. But what about them?” She looks over at where Sammy’s reaching through the small box with his fingers and Fluff Dog’s licking them furiously. They’re wearing coats, but perhaps not coats designed for the temperatures of Iceland. Perhaps she’s worried about the small, yappy dog.
The dog’s fluffy. I’m sure she’ll be fine.
“Not the dog, idiot. I’m worried about Sammy.”
Idiot? The bond still thrums with affection, so I don’t think she meant to insult me. Perhaps it’s a strange human term of endearment. I’m sure Gordon will make him something.
