Eyes round, the kid—Terrik—skittered back.
Vorik still carried his gargoyle-bone sword, though he kept it at his side as he strode in. That didn’t mean he didn’t look intimidating. This time, he wasn’t proffering strawberries.
Aunt Tibby peered down from the top of a ladder. “You’re a dragon rider.”
“I am, yes.” Vorik bowed to her. “Thank you for noticing. I strive to maintain my physique in a manner appropriate for the elite Sixteen Talons warriors. Might I suggest that it’s neither wise nor health-inducing to attack dragons? If Agrevlari hadn’t had a… digestive incident, he would have torched your barn.”
“You’re animpertinentdragon rider.” Unlike the kid, Tibbyglowered fearlessly down at Vorik. Possibly because she’d reloaded her hand-cannon.
“Yes, ma’am.” Vorik gave her a dazzling smile.
She pointed the hand-cannon at him.
“Aunt Tibby.” Lifting a hand, Syla ran toward the ladder.
Vorik crouched in case he needed to spring for cover, but he didn’t appear alarmed by having a firearm pointed at him.
A wrenching came from behind as fangs wrapped around one of the doors and ripped it free. Light flooded into the shop as Agrevlari hurled it into the field. The door sailed over the head of Fel, who was limping toward the barn, having finally defeated the aggressive tractor. The sunlight was soon blotted out as Agrevlari thrust his head through the doorway, his snout coming in beside Vorik as he glowered up at Tibby, his jaws parted to reveal his fangs.
After a moment of consideration, Tibby lowered the hand-cannon.
Giving the dragon a wide berth, Fel stopped in the road to look in and meet Syla’s eyes. Pain hooded his own, but he saluted her, as if to say he was ready to fight again, if necessary.
Syla’s heart went out to her bodyguard. If not for all the family she’d lost, she would think Fel was having a much rougher time than she.
The sobering thought brought her back to Tibby. Her aunt probably hadn’t heard the details yet about the deaths. Even if Syla’s father—Tibby’s tie to the royal family—had passed years earlier, her aunt would be devastated by the loss of her nieces and nephews. Syla’s stomach knotted at the idea of having to tell her about the losses.
“You say we need to talk?” Tibby adjusted her spectacles and looked down at Syla.
“About much, yes.” Tears pricked at Syla’s eyes, and sheremoved her own spectacles and used her frayed dress to clean the lenses.
Tibby eyed the dragon. “It feels wrong to give up the high ground.”
“Do you want us to come up there?”
Tibby pointed at Syla. “I wantyouto come up here.Theycan wait outside.” She lowered her voice to a mutter. “Or in an active volcano.”
Syla looked at Vorik and Fel.
Fel sat down in the grass and stretched his leg out so he could rub his hip. He appeared relieved not to have to deal with Tibby.
At first, Vorik didn’t move, his eyes slitted thoughtfully as he considered Tibby. But when Syla made a shooing motion toward the door, he bowed toward her and walked out, waving for his dragon to withdraw his head.
“You have wool in your teeth,” he told Agrevlari as they departed.
My meal was interrupted when I had to come save your life,the dragon replied, surprisingly sharing the words with Syla as well. Or was he including everyone?
“My life wasn’t in danger from a ponderous mechanical construct. Even the wounded bodyguard was able to defeat that foe.”
Your gratitude over the ever-heroic feats I engage in to assist you is noted.
“I don’t knowhowyou’re going to explain all that,” Tibby said from the loft, “but I am most curious to hear you try.”
17
Syla saton a toolbox in the loft and told Aunt Tibby everything. Down below, Fel leaned against the door jamb, giving them their privacy for the conversation but insisting on keeping an eye on Syla.
Since Tibby had shooed Vorik outside, he hadn’t attempted to return to the machine shop, but Syla kept her voice low, reminded of how much he’d heard when Fel had spoken to her in the kitchen.
