It’s another day stretching Hort’s wing when a voice I’d know anywhere calls out to us. “Flirting on the job again?” Farren. My attention snaps to her waltzing up to us.
“And to think you facilitated this.” Jeffrey gestures to him and Shelly. Oh, that’s what she meant. For a second I thought…
But she hasn’t even noticed me. Otherwise she wouldn’t laugh openly when she says, “I know. Big mistake.”
When I first arrived, I wondered what Farren and Jeffrey’s relationship was, especially after I saw him twirling her on the porch in excitement. I got jealous. Now, I know they’re like brother and sister. And while that calms some of the storm in my chest, Farren and I are still ignoring each other. Her because she can’t stand me. Me, because I’m still afraid if I engage, she’ll try to get me kicked out. Or, to be more specific, try to make me break my father’s rule, which would get me booted immediately. I’m accustomed now to Farren’s disinterest, so I can handle it, but if she flirts with me, I’ll fall.
“Been third wheeling since I was nine,” Farren continues.
“And third wheel no longer,” Shelly laughs and nods to me.
“What?” Farren startles when her gaze meets mine. Her smile disappears. “Oh, hey.”
“Hey.” Even now my heart pounds at her attention on me.
Farren lifts a medical kit in her hand. “I came to rebandage Hort.”
I grab Hort’s lead to keep him calm and still. “Go for it.”
I’m dying to ask how often she thinks his dressing needs to be redone nowadays. Hort not only broke his primary metacarpal, but also cut open his wing. Both wound and bone seem to be healing well. Dragons often create a scab of silver, like a cast, when their bones break, and it needs to be crafted apart so the scales aren’t permanently damaged or scarred. My hunch is Farren has been doing this since it looks so clean.
Hort prods me for attention as if to say stop staring, so I pat his neck as I try to figure out Farren’s redressing technique without hovering. I’m unneeded since Hort bends to Farren’s every wish, moving his wing as she orders. She’s not even saying anything or whistling training commands. She just touches him. The skill of an extraordinary silver-crafter. I should have known day one on the sanctuary.
When finished, Farren comes around to Hort’s head, standingrightnext to me. “Stretch it out one more day and then Hort can fly,” Farren tells Jeffrey over her shoulder. “You’re ready to fly again, aren’t you?” she says quieter to Hort, petting him.
My god, she can’t be standing this close and be sweet to my dragon. I can only take so much. My hands go slack on Hort’s lead. Then Farren glances at me as Hort nudges her neck and closes his eyes.Have I ever been more envious of a dragon?For one breath of a moment we’re staring at one another, something unspoken woven between us as my heart explodes.
“Got it boss,” Jeffrey calls, breaking whatever trance we have fallen into. Farren turns to leave and I take a lungful of air. Jeffrey swivels in her direction though. “Hey! Where you going?” he laughs. “I need a rider.”
“Murphy can be your rider.”
Jeffrey and I watch as she ambles away. “I can’t believe she’s turning down riding a silver Sprinter.” He turns to me, maybe for explanation.
The explanation is simple enough. Me. She can’t stand me. “How do you do it?” I suddenly ask Jeffrey.
“How do I do what? Mount a dragon?” Jeffrey stalls like he hasn’t dealt with this level of incompetence before.
“No…” It’s a new low point if I look like someone who doesn’t know how to climb up on his own dragon. I shove that thought aside as I swing onto Hort. “How do you make people like you?”
“People?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Or Farren?”
I wince at how quickly he’s stabbed at the core of my question. “People,” I reiterate.
Jeffrey smirks at Shelly. “What did I tell you?” he yells over.
“Very entertaining,” she agrees.
“What’s entertaining? Me?”
“Yes you.”
I haven’t been called entertaining before. I don’t think they are making fun of me though. In fact, it feels the opposite, like I’m being included for who I am as a person, not who my family is, maybe for the first time in my life.
“It doesn’t bother you Farren’s a copper?” Shelly asks, head tilted—a test.
“No,” I admit. Though she’s not a copper. Not really. I figure they know that, but just in case I keep quiet. Besides, it’s the truth. Farren’s metal class has never concerned me, even if it would concern my parents.
“Then I approve,” Shelly states.
