Fin coiled, and this time I caught him back. “She’s my dragon,” I told him. “You explain to the Flight Captain exactly why you will never do this again.”
I moved over and took Salvadora’s great paw in mine. Though the sun shone just as much now as it had before, I was colder. A cloud had formed over my head and in my heart. I could cure a human of shallow wounds. Could I do the same for a dragon?
As I inspected the wound, I pulled out the small fluffy feathers that had caught in it. Dora bowed her head towards me, one eye looking questioningly at me.
Can you?
I looked in her eye.“I’m not sure,”I thought-spoke to her.“Want me to try?”
I took the way she bobbed her head as a yes.
Swallowing my concerns, I placed my hand beside the wounded paw pad and slowly gathered the magic I needed to close the gash. She grunted a little as the wound closed. Then I released my magic, and she checked the bottom of her paw.
Wow, thank you.Dora said.
“You’re welcome.”
It was my fault,she admitted at last.We were just having so much fun.
Calming my inner voice should have been easier. Fin was fine. A scraped knee was nothing. But when I’d seen Dora skid, and Fin thrown, rolling away, I felt my life had spiralled out of my control.“You know better than that,”I told her.“I’m disappointed in you.”
I understand. And you are more than disappointed in me,she acknowledged.Which I deserve. We lost Sasha. I should not have risked her beautiful baby.
My throat closed at the sentiment, but I had to control my reactions. Be more like Ang Shi.
But be not so hard on the boy, Dora begged. We had so much fun out there.
“I am glad,”I told only her.“Now, go nest. I have a suspicion Lord Aurexian will want words with you.”
She deliberately passed wind at that.He never stops having words. So disapproving of everything. You should give him some Dragonbalm, might loosen the old stick up a bit.
The idea of Lord Aurexian loose was amusing at first, but I suspect he’d be rather terrifying. Especially afterward. Dora took off, and I turned back to my son. He stood before Shi, back to attention, head forward. Shi was equally rigid, though his head was to the side, watching me.
He often watched me.
I moved closer to the pair of them.
“Mister Fin Segast is grounded,” Shi announced. “There will be no more stable work or visits for twenty days. And after that, there will be no more solo flights until the Stable Master assures me that he has successfully completed all assigned stable tasks for the following twenty days.”
Twenty days of no dragons. The standard two-week punishment for minor infractions. Though for Fin, two weeks without dragons might just feel like forever. It wasn’t just Fin getting punished though, it would be me too. I was the one who would have to put up with his moodiness, though it was unlikely Shi would understand that.
“He is also to undertake the course on basic flight standards and dragon safety, which he must pass in the ninetieth-percentile range before he will be allowed any further flight time. Is that clear, Flight Sergeant Segast?”
I drew myself up to attention. “Yes, sir.”
Shi nodded, then looked down. “Mister Segast, you are dismissed.”
Fin ran for the hidden slope, the injured dragons’ route to the nests and the shortest route from here to there.
“March inside, Flight Sergeant.”
Those words forced my body to tension again, and I walked to the iron-banded door, Shi marching behind me. But as I closed the door, all that tension washed out of me, and I crumbled against the wood, then down to the floor. I flinched at the surprise weight of a hand on my shoulder. Turning, I drew my legs up and hugged them. Shi sat cross-legged beside me.
“Sasha was crushed by a falling dragon.” My throat ached at the admission. “Seafarers attacked, they had this huge … it was like a crossbow, the width of the boat. It fired metal bolts as long as we are tall. They killed an orange, and it fell out of the sky. It rolled. Sasha tried to run, to get out of the way, but…” I shook my head.
Shi’s hand rested on my forearm.
There were no tears as I continued to sit there, that scene replaying in my head again and again. I had been on Salvadora and we both screamed out our pain and our rage, and we had dived to that ship and breathed fire so hot I swear the sea boiled where the ship incinerated. It was too late, it was too little, but it was all we could do for my wife.
