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That must’ve been a signal of sorts because the residents of Avalon Vale erupted in cheers, and confetti filled the air.
The draping comes off the sculpture, and immediately it is wrapped in a spiral of flame that blooms into the sky in a swirl of sparkles.
After that was done, Lucky and the mayor make their way toward where Jonah and I stand. Without pausing, Lucky takes hold of my hands and kisses them both.
Jonah struggles to maintain his composure, though his eyebrows are not complying. “Mr. Mayor. How wonderful to meet you again.” Jonah extends his hand to the Dragonkin. “We met last night.”
Recognition flares in the mayor’s eyes. “Of course, Mr. Gray. You are rather difficult to forget. The local wulver pack indeed has grown fond of your presence.”
Jonah tosses his hair over his shoulder. “As much as I love talking about my favorite subject—me!—I need to introduce you to my lovely boss, Remington Storm. Remi, darling, this is Mayor Edris Otori.”
I crane my neck up to see him. By human standards, I’m a pretty tall woman at five-foot-nine. The mayor is easily seven feet tall.
“Please, call me Eddie.” He takes my hand between his two larger ones, giving it a squeeze before releasing it. “Jonah and I had a great conversation last night, and he made me realize we need to open a gallery here.”
My eyes widen in shock, and I look from Jonah to Lucky, then back to the mayor. “A gallery? Here?”
Jonah simply lifts his eyebrow at me. “I told you I was working last night.”
The mayor, in all of his political form, shakes hands with us again. “We don’t need an answer right away, of course. Take as long as you need. But as soon as you’re willing and able to open up a gallery here, we have a space for you. I know the wulvers are always ready to build and expand at a moment’s notice.” Then the mayor turns to Lucky. “Lucky, don’t be a stranger.”
Leisel and Addison somehow make their way over to us and are suddenly on either side of Lucky. Those two are like sharks…or motivated velociraptors. “Your art is spectacular,” they said in near-stereo. “We would love to feature it in our art gallery soon. We have the platform you need to carry your message far and wide.”
Lucky turns out of their arms, stretching his wings out to give him some space. “It’s a good thing I don’t want that. And if I did, I already have a talented art lover by my side—two of them. Excuse us,” Lucky says.
Leisel and Addison stand with their mouths agape while we leave.
“Next time, tag team me, bird boy. If anyone has earned the right to drag those women to filth, it’s me!” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “I have a feeling you both have a lot totalkabout, so I’m just gonna sidle over to my wulver friends over there. Toodaloo!”
“For that alone, I will forgive him in advance for all the times he calls me bird boy.”
“Not that you have much of a choice.”
“I suppose I don’t,” he says. “He wasn’t wrong. I wanted to talk to you privately, if you didn’t mind?”
“Go with you somewhere private? Of course I don’t mind.”
Before I can change my mind, he wraps his arms around me and launches both of us upward.
I expected we would go a ways down the road. I don’t expect him to take all the way to his aerie.
When we are finally alone in his tree, he kisses me. The thrumming harmonics that pulses between us subside in contentment. I forget that I’m hearing it constantly until it’s quiet again.
“I’m sorry for not being there when you woke up. I didn’t want to leave you this morning, but you looked so peaceful sleeping there.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I understand,” I assure him. “Big day of unveiling your art. That should be celebrated.”
“No, we’re not doing that. We’re not minimizing my actions. I need you to know that I never want to hurt you.”
Given how we met, and the interactions thereafter, I keep quiet for once rather than sweeping the small hurts under a rug. “Thank you for saying. I appreciate that it’s hard for you to express yourself in words. Was that all you needed to talk about?”
“Not all. I wanted to show you…I had to put a few finishing touches on my sculpture before delivering it.”
“Another sculpture? Not the one you made for the town?”
He shakes his head no. “We have a lot to talk about. I know you have questions, and I want to answer them. Sometimes my words don’t come out right though. And I wanted to present you with this, and it would be my greatest honor for you to accept it.”
From behind his back, he displays a golden egg the size of a football. I don’t know what to do with that, but thankfully, I don’t have to say anything. Soon, the harmonies between us intensify, and the egg in his hand unravels and becomes pliant metal.
