“No,” Ronan and I said at the same time. I shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. He grinned sheepishly at me.
“It’s just standing there–” Wren argued.
“No,” I said again.
All eyes shifted to Veskor’s unconscious form.
“Don’t even think–” Wren began, her face already turning red.
“We canask,” Nerissa said, “but he is in no condition to help right now.”
“Do we have time for him to recover?” Ronan asks.
Nerissa eyed Nuva, who blinked.
“I do not know him. He has three days to recover. I do not wish to wait any longer than that,” Nerissa said.
I shifted the sick draken’s weight on my shoulder.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s get him back in prime working condition.”
Three days later, Veskor was up and about, trying to convince us all that he was fine, despite Enya’s orders to take it easy.
I don’t think Veskor knew how.
Seeing Wren settled in her cushions and taking an afternoon nap, I flew down to the beach where Ronan was supervising our new draken’s work labor.
“Mm. Hello.” Ronan tilted his head toward the beach and Veskor. “He works very hard. He does not stop for rest until Canavar makes him.”
Veskor was hauling driftwood and stone up the slope with Canavar beside him, the two of them moving like some mismatched, half-feral construction crew from the underworld. Veskor carried twice his size without complaint. Sweat dripped down his temples. Every time a drakling wandered too close, curious about the new, strange draken, he froze, eyes wide and hands trembling, but he backed away quickly and intentionally.
Canavar grunted orders. Veskor obeyed all of them, silently.
“He won’t be useful to us if he pushes too hard. He’s meant to be recovering,” I grumbled.
Ronan shot me a look. “That is not his only purpose. And I remember a certain draken who refused to stay in bed when he had dragon pox that one time.”
I flushed. “You said you’d never mention–”
“Just as well. He is recovering fast. Just look at him.”
It was true. With regular meals and all the food he could eat, Veskor was filling out and looking less scrawny. Him and Canavar were rebuilding the meeting hall, strengthening the beams, and widening the foundation. Veskor worked until his hands bled and still didn’t stop. Whatever he lacked in social skills—gods, he lacked almost all of them—he made up for in sheer tenacity.
We turned as Kaida landed behind us, trilling a hello.
“He is strong,” Kaida commented. “That will scare some.”
“It scares all,” I replied. “Even Canavar, though he won’t admit it. It is good for our purposes, though.”
Kaida snorted. “Nerissa admits it. Loudly. And I do hope you’ve told the poor boy what he’s gotten into. He looks untouched by bloodmagick.”
Before I could respond, Nerissa stomped down to the beach as if summoned, arms crossed, her bloodmagick already flaring on her skin.
“Of all the males on this island,” Nerissa growled, “why is mine glued tothatone?” She pointed rudely at Veskor.
Kaida hid a smile behind her hand. I didn’t bother hiding mine.
“Because someone needs to make sure he doesn’t accidentally set himself on fire again,” I offered.
