A shadow loomed over her.
Bright, curious brown eyes blinked down at her through the glass.
A child. A giant child.
A little girl with curly hair and a smear of flour on her cheek giggled as she crouched on the kitchen counter and peered in closer.
“Oooh!” she squealed. “Nana! I caught a fairy dragon!”
Spring backed until her tail hit the curved glass. Her heart pounded wildly as the girl tapped the container with one sticky finger, sending small vibrations through the floor beneath her claws.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the girl whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. “You’re so pretty!”
Oh stars, Spring thought, swallowing hard. I’ve been fairy-caught by a toddler.
The giant girl’s face was alight with fascination. She held up a finger as if she wanted to pet Spring through the glass. “Do you grant wishes? Can you talk? Are you a baby guardian dragon?”
Spring exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remain calm, even as her tail twitched nervously behind her.
From further in the kitchen, the woman’s voice—calm and knowing—called out, “Liana, what have I told you about trapping magical creatures?”
“But she’s a tiny dragon, Nana!” Liana called back. “I’ve never seen a tiny fairy-dragon before!”
Spring groaned softly and laid her head against the glass, silently muttering, “This can’t get any worse.”
But even as she grumbled, some tiny part of her—deep down in the fragile place where homesickness and heartbreak curled—felt the first flicker of hope.
At least she was somewhere. And maybe—just maybe—the old woman could help her and Roam find the others.
As the little girl examined her, Spring pressed back against the glass, wondering if dragons had nine lives, too. She hoped so.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Roam sat cross-legged on the mossy ground, his arms draped over his knees, his chin resting on top of them as he shredded a piece of green foliage between his fingers. He huffed, sending a stray strand of white-blond hair flying upward before it drifted back into his eyes. He didn’t bother brushing it away.
“Girls are so difficult,” he grumbled, scowling at the soft indentation in the moss where Spring had been lying less than an hour ago.
Almost an hour ago.
He muttered again, louder this time. “Seriously. One minute she’s snuggled against me like she actually wants to be there, and the next she’s acting like I lit her tail on fire.”
Girls aren’t problem, his cat hissed from deep within him, its mental voice curling around his thoughts like smoke. Problem’s you.
Roam jerked upright. “Excuse me?”
You heard me.
He narrowed his eyes. “No need to be rude.”
You stop being stupid, I stop being rude, his cat snorted with impatience.
Roam winced. His cat had been more sarcastic than usual lately. This certainly wasn’t the first time it had clawed its way into his consciousness with biting commentary. He braced his hands on the moss and leaned back, staring up at the tangled canopy above. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His cat gave a sound halfway between a snort and a snarl. I know exactly what I talk about. You no deserve her.
The words struck like a rock to the chest.
Roam sat still, blinking slowly as they sank in. “Gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
