AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I wouldn’t call it a sea monster,” I said wryly as I set one of the fillets on the counter. “Just a really big, mean fish.”
Quye snorted. “I saw that thing when you brought it to Ylena’s hut. It looked like a monster to me.” She reached for the fillet I’d set down, which was still wrapped in the leaves, then snatched her hand back at once, hissing. “Squalls, that’s burning hot! How can you touch it with your bare hands?”
“I’m half-dragon,” I reminded her. “Fireproof.”
Quye tapped her chin in thought. “I wonder if it’s your dragon side that allows you to touch burning things, or if your water fae side protects you.” She waved a hand, and the remaining fillets all sailed off the coals and onto the counter, startling the other dragons.
“You could have given us some warning,” Ylena said mildly, raising an eyebrow at Quye.
The Oracle grinned. “I could give warnings about lots of things. But where would the fun be in that?”
Finished, the dragons all came to take helpings of fish and vegetables, thanking those of us who’d prepared the food for the meal. Someone had built a bonfire, and everyone gathered around it to eat and talk.
“You did good today,” Diyani said, plopping down next to me on the log I was sitting on. “Catching and cooking a fish like that is no mean feat.”
“And you saved that mother orca, too,” Isador said, sitting down on my other side. She wiggled her eyebrows at Diyani. “Looks like Yaggir was right about her.”
Diyani huffed, but I noticed her gaze stray to where Yaggir sat a few paces away, in deep conversation with Quye. His gaze flickered our way, and a slow grin spread over his face as he caught her staring.
“Cheeky bastard,” she grumbled, yanking her gaze away, and I had to hide my grin at the spots of color riding high on her cheeks.
“Looks like your soft spot for Yaggir hasn’t gone away,” Isador teased.
“Do I look like I have any soft spots to you?” Diyani growled, raising an arm so she could flex her well-toned biceps.
“Not on the outside, maybe, but—”
A shadow fell over us, and we turned to see Ylena standing behind us. Her tall, lithe form was backlit by the setting sun, the flames from the bonfire lending a fiery glow to her golden hair so that it matched her eyes. She looked every bit as regal as the day I’d met her, even though her hair was mussed from the long afternoon of work, and there were a few smudges of coal on her cheek and arms that she’d missed.
“I would get seconds if I were you,” she said, indicating my empty leaf with a tilt of her chin.
“Seconds? Why?”
“Because,” she said, her lips curling into the first genuine smile I’d seen, “You’ll be starting your fast for the ritual tomorrow.”
22
Mavlyn
Mavlyn experienced a rude awakening when she joined Leap, Emelie, and her family for breakfast the next morning.
“Good morning,” Emelie’s father greeted her from his seat at the breakfast table. He was reading a copy of the Talamh Tribune as he sipped on his morning coffee, his bushy eyebrows barely visible from behind the paper. “Did you know you made the news today?”
“What?” Mavlyn froze in the doorway, her eyes darting to Emelie. Her friend flinched, then dropped her gaze to her bowl of porridge. Leap, on the other hand, seemed pleased. “What do you mean, I made the news?”
“Your little political rally from last night made the papers,” Emelie’s father explained. He folded the newspaper over, then handed it to Mavlyn, who barely refrained from snatching it out of his grip. Heart thundering in her ears, Mavlyn unfolded the paper and read the article, which took up half a page. Apparently, one of the students who’d attended the club meeting last night worked for the paper, and had done a write-up and submitted it just in time for printing. Mavlyn braced herself for harsh words or criticism, but to her surprise, the piece only reported on the facts she herself had presented. It didn’t take sides, but it did urge viewers to consider the information and do their own research, while also reminding them army drafts are mandatory and that any legal consequences incurred are their own responsibility.
“Well,” she said, setting the paper down. “This isn’t as bad as I expected.”
“Bad?” Leap’s eyes sparked indignantly. “Mavlyn, this is exactly what we wanted!”
“You’re not mad, then?” Emelie said, the relief evident in her voice. She took the paper from Mavlyn, a hopeful look on her face. “I know you said you wanted to wait on the article, so I wasn’t sure how you’d react. One of the Tribune’s associate editors was at the meeting last night, and when Roylan’s sister heard about the story, she’d seized it and sent it to print right away.”
“That’s right.” Mavlyn had forgotten that Roylan’s sister was the Talamh Tribune’s editor. “I do wish she’d spoken to me first—I would have liked to have some say about what was printed. But, Leap is right. Putting articles in the paper will help spread the news far quicker than any speeches I might do.”
The trio finished breakfast, then headed to the campus, hoping to help fuel the gossip fires. Within minutes of sitting down at the coffeehouse, one of the club members came up to Mavlyn and Leap with three of his friends. She ended up fielding a steady stream of questions all morning from dozens upon dozens of students. Some were belligerent and stubbornly patriotic, refusing to believe that Lady Mossi had anything less than their best interests at heart, but most of the students were surprisingly open to what she and Emelie had to say. Many already held anti-war sentiments, and happily latched onto the message Mavlyn was promoting, while others were prepared to fight, but wanted to make sure they were going to war for the right reasons.
Emelie rushed in at around mid-afternoon, her face grim. “University authorities went by the Tribune’s office and confiscated the remaining papers,” she said in a low voice as she joined us on the couch.
