I take a breath. I can do this. I can continue to hate James Murphy with everything I have.
I think.
Chapter NineteenWHEN THE PRETENDING GETS TOO CLOSE TO THE TRUTH
JAMES
After I shower and change, I head to the main house. Walking across the field feels like trudging toward execution. My stomach coils. They aren’t kicking you out, I try to reason with myself. Still I can’t stop thinking. They haven’t kicked me out…yet.
Farren and her parents have convened in the living room like a family meeting. I don’t think I’ve had a family meeting before. Wait. Never mind. There was one, recent, and during which my dad ordered me to bail off Hort to claim my broken arm wasn’t his fault. I can’t forget the sound of my mom crying beside him, Dad threatening her to shut up or else. If he’d physically broken me that day, he’d emotionally shattered my mother. After I’d agreed to the plan, she’d crept into my room that night, a new hardness to her voice as she spoke of me staying elsewhere over the summer, of us truly and finally leaving. Only for me to later demand I stay with the Walshes.
What a jerk move to just request this, to let my mother use our family privilege to make it so. And now I know why all three Walshes seemed so cautious when I first arrived. Not because Dr. Walsh didn’t want my helphere. Because I could ruin their lives. Maybe it’s me. Maybe my mere presence ruins things.
On top of that Dr. Walsh had only one rule—stay away from the cliffs. Even if I can get away with pretending I don’t like Farren, I’ve broken the one instruction he asked of me. The panic I was trying to hide behind deals and jest climbing the cliffs earlier with Farren reignites into something wilder. I had a whole apology planned. Now, I’m afraid to speak.
“James, take a seat,” Mrs. Walsh says.
I stalk forward and sit as far away from Farren as possible. She raises her eyebrows like she knows what I’m doing and isn’t impressed. I should have asked her more about how this conversation would go, what I should say. Farren’s parents confuse me at every turn. When they rushed into that cave, they didn’t notice me or the dragons first. Everything revolved around Farren’s safety.
The peacefulness so far terrifies me. If I’ve learned anything, it’s always calm before a storm.
Mrs. Walsh bites her lip as she glances between us. Then she says, “Maybe we should talk with you one at a time.”
“What? To make sure our stories match?” Farren blurts out. “I told you we didn’t have sex last night. I got caught in the rain and borrowed some of his clothes before I heard Nity roar.” She waves a hand toward me. “And James got puked on.”
I bite back a smile in the palm of my hand. She’s so damn brazen. I can’t be grinning or blushing right now though. I’ve listened to enough lectures, faked enough apologies. As I lift my head, I plaster on the mask my father likes best—emotionless and obedient. “Farren’s telling the truth. And I’ll answer your every question. I can imagine the first. I’ve already promised Farren, but I promise you as well. On my life, I’ll never tell anyone about Nity.”
“On your life,” Dr. Walsh repeats, sounding troubled. “That’s a little much. But we’ll admit, we are glad to hear you’ll keep her secret. I was hoping now that you are part of the Walsh family, you would.”
Everything stills.Part of the Walsh family…
A small part of me, the part that needs to die, has thought of that phrase before, fantasized about marrying Farren one day. Maybe even taking her name and discarding my own. But that’s not what he means—he means in a work sense. That I’m welcome here.
“Of course I’ll keep her secret.”
“Good. Because there are people out there that would take that gold before it can be put to good use.”
Poachers. Poachers who think of pilfering shed scales off a cave floor as nothing more than stealing. As if that wouldn’t kill Nity’s triplets days later.
Dr. Walsh leans forward. “Not even your parents, James. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” It’s not an accusation. It’s a warning. Secrets can spread. This secret wouldn’t have to spread far for those dragons to be in danger. First in line for their gold would be my father.We’ll find a golden dragon one day. And we’ll make him ours. Ours, as if nature always bends to humanity, or should. His obsession over the years makes him the biggest threat I can imagine.
Plus, my parents know too many people in the dragon community, not all of them reputable. Racing appeals to gamblers who appeal to black markets. My parents’ entire business is only two steps away from poachers and thieves. And that’s not even considering scalers like Art Whimbley who I’ve seen laugh as he descales a dragon. I don’t even want to imagine the gleam in his eye if he met Nity.
“We don’t know how long Nity will stay with us. Maybe until the hatchlings can fly. But we are hoping she’ll come back.” Dr. Walsh cuts a glance toward Mrs. Walsh. They look resigned, saddened by something. I don’t understand why, though. Nity and the babies leaving will be a good thing, less for them to worry about.
Farren sighs, joining her parents in the melancholy. “I thought the same thing.”
“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” I ask.
“The survival of the species,” Dr. Walsh says. “With Oria silver coated—”
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. There is only one female, Oria,and she’s silver coated. Which means while the boys can have alloy babies in the future, a true golden line won’t continue. Not without a golden baby girl. It’s the female’s metal that matters. The mother’s genes determine the eggs. They shed their scales to nourish a hatchling’s own protective metal coats. Unlike humans with the capacity to learn to craft new metals, dragons’ coats are determined at birth and never change.
Though slim, there is a chance Zilar and his future mate could have a golden baby girl when he comes of age, but dragons don’t mate until full maturity at ten. The best scenario is Nity coming back to nest here again. Another nest. Another chance at a golden girl.
Which means this secret needs to remain a secret not for months or years, but potentially my entire life. Goose bumps crawl up my arms at the notion, the seemingly impossible mission to keep this under wraps for that amount of time. For these babies to grow, for Nity to come back, for another year of gestation. No wonder the Walshes are heartbroken. Nity may be the last female golden dragon in the world. And there’s no guarantee she’ll have more offspring.
