Nobody spoke, everyone hesitant.
“Mahava is close to his expiration.” Karam’s hoarse voice petered out. “It will eventually work into his brain, like mine will, too. One day.”
“Can I have it?” Cinder poked Mahava’s neck again.
“What?” Karam blinked.
“If I take it out, can I keep it?” Cinder prodded the male’s neck again, studying it.
“It’s yours,” Mahava said, his voice barely a whimper.
Cinder shifted a fingertip into a dark claw and pressed the tip into his skin. A light glow surrounded it, a healing magic or something Gatlin had never seen before, old magic that Frikka was a master of.
Mahava gasped softly, his breath a soft squeak as Cinder drew his claw back, a bead of blood welling where he had prodded. And so, with a glint of the light and a pitiable cry from Mahava, a bloody pin about four inches in length pulled free of his flesh before tumbling to the ground with a chime of song.
Cinder picked it up and stared at it. He gave it a lick and frowned. “Can I go back out and play? All my magic is tired out, so I can’t do the other right now.”
Frikka offered a half smile. “Absolutely. Go play. You’ve earned it, little one.”
“Thanks, Farfar!” Cinder bounded off, grinning from ear to ear, happy as anything to add another silver bauble to his growing little hoard.
Mahava sobbed, wrapping his arms around his chest. Grateful whimpers and promises of a lifetime of loyalty made Gatlin sick. He cleared his throat. “It is the very least a Drakeis obligated to do. Do what you wish. You’ll have a place here. Serve Ashwin until he leaves, but once he’s gone, you will be a dragon. You will be whatever you want to be—Drake, Dette, Hijada. We will address you as such and help you start a life.”
Mahava’s sobs petered out into hard, breathless heaving sounds. “If I only ever meet my dragon once before I die, I will be happy.”
“Your dragon will be yours.” Frikka helped Mahava up and gave him a hug. “Let us go somewhere to meet them. Leo will be there to talk to you.”
Gatlin watched the two saunter their way out as Karam stared at him with wide, wild eyes.
“Am I going to truly have— Will you?” His voice came out in a whisper.
“You can stay with us—we’re due nine pups and could use the help. You’ll be paid more than fairly, and reintegrated into dragon society. If you wish to leave—you may. Staying just ensures you get a tidy sum before leaving. Upon completion of a psychological evaluation and some training, you’ll be given a share from a fund specifically for displaced Hijada and Dettes.” Gatlin shrugged. “Or not. Your choice. Tell me whatyoudream of. What you want.”
Karam swallowed hard. “I want to raise pups, to go to movie theaters… I want to find a mate and… I want a little cottage far away from dragons and to raise goats and…”
“Lovely goals. Assert your wants and needs with us.” Gatlin rubbed his hands together. “Want me to stay with you? Or do you think you can handle the Dettes coming to pick your mind and check you over?”
Karam stared at Gatlin and glanced at the couch before taking a step and sitting down, as if the very act were defiance. He smiled, posture still stooped.
Small steps.
Interlude
Cinder
Cinder pocketed the little bit of silver, richer by another… He gripped the pin.Eleven grams?
Didn’t feel right, though. That wasn’t his silver. There was a mark on it, in the very fire that forged it—the Ass-wind Vritra Drake. The Drake that had put those nasty pins inside the necks of dragons whose only failure had been not being a Drake.
That wasn’t silver in his pocket. It was a reminder that there was evil still in the world, and many more Drakes that needed to go away.
The urge to shift and play was great, so he twisted his lips and stripped, careful to tuck his silver nail under one of his wings before he made his way out to play with the others. He carefully stowed the clothes off to the side and huffed.
Once outside, he chased after Storm, tackling his Dette sibling with glee. They wrestled for a moment, yapping at one another and spitting fire until he caught glimpse of Daigh, nipped his golden tail and passed by to find Niko and harass him. The Finnish dragon had no idea what his gender would be, but Cinder did. And he’d let the Drake claim him one day if only just to make sure he never had to go batty like Farfar. A mated Dette lost their völur abilities, and the boy was a weenie. He’d let Cinder have fun and go where he wanted and watch loud movies and play video games.
Niko ran off screaming at a few playful nips—terrified.I’ll wear him down.
An unfamiliar Drake lay out in the sun, head tilted as he stared at a pile of playing pups—Blossom among them. She had trouble running as fast as the others, with her upper arms webbed and winged rather than the separate set of her back.
