Rysha nodded, glad she wouldn’t have to convince her family Lockvale was trouble. She knew her parents were smart, despite their lack of support for her military career, and hadn’t truly believed they would be taken in, but she appreciated this reassurance.
“Just keep an eye out. If you or Mother or Father or anyone needs anything, or sees anyone else suspicious, get word to me as soon as possible, and I’ll come down and be a rabid guard dog for the property. We’ll come down.” Rysha pointed at Shulina Arya, even though the dragon’s eyes had closed, and her breathing was deep and even, so she didn’t have much of a guard dog mien. “We can get here quickly.”
She worried her aunt might scoff, despite what she’d seen tonight, but instead, she nodded solemnly, stepped forward, and gave Rysha a hug. The muzzle of her rifle clunked the back of Rysha’s head, and she was fairly sure Dorfindral’s hilt poked her aunt in the ribs, but it was a hug, nonetheless. A hug between women who would do what was necessary to protect the family.
“Father, I need to go,” Rysha called when they broke apart. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
He looked over, frowning, and opened his mouth as if he would protest, but Aunt Tadelay shook her head. Father closed his mouth. He hesitated, then lifted his hand in farewell.
“Shulina Arya?” Rysha rested a hand on the dragon’s side, hoping she would rouse easily. She hadn’t seen her sleeping before and didn’t even know where the dragon bedded down for the night. All Rysha knew was that she objected to stables. “We need to go back to the city and see if they need help.”
One violet eye opened. Tarts? Her voice sounded sleepy, and Rysha regretted that she couldn’t leave the dragon snoozing. It had been a long day.
“Uhm, maybe afterward. We can check.” Rysha doubted baking tarts had been Sardelle’s priority today if dragons had been attacking the city.
Shulina Arya did the telepathic equivalent of mumbling something incoherent—or maybe it was coherent in dragon?—and rolled onto her stomach so Rysha could climb onto her back. The illumination spheres she had created faded, and Father and Krey headed for the house. The shadows hid the destroyed vineyard, but Rysha remembered the image all too well, the charred remains of the vines near the black skeletons of trees in what had once been a beautiful orchard.
She didn’t know when she would find the time, but she vowed to ensure that Lord Lockvale couldn’t harass her family or anyone else anymore. One way or another.
16
“It’s not going to glow or vibrate or detect ghosts or anything now, is it?” Leftie asked.
“What? Your arm?” Trip was sitting on a blanket with him, the last of the people he’d healed. Sardelle had healed Duck and another injured pilot who’d arrived later, entering the hangar bleak-faced and devastated after admitting that he had crashed his flier into the harbor.
“Yes, my arm that you magicked up and left all tingly.” Leftie rotated the limb, eyeing it suspiciously. The gash that had been there, a wound so deep the bone had been visible, was the faintest of scars now, and Trip thought even that would fade with time.
“You’re supposed to thank a healer,” Sardelle said. “Not complain.”
She’d finished and now stood, watching General Zirkander, who had only stopped working for a few brief words here and there. Though night lay deep outside now, he was sawing, sewing, and replacing hull and wing material right alongside the ground crew and several other officers. Trip could tell he was worried the dragons would return again soon and without warning.
“Oh, it wasn’t a complaint, ma’am.” Leftie lowered his arm. “Just a concern. I’m not comfortable being magicked.”
“I should think it preferable to the alternative.”
“I guess. I’m just… It’s still tingling, Trip.”
Leftie extracted his lucky ball-on-a-chain charm and kissed it. This was the fifth time he’d felt the need to do so since Trip started healing him. Trip was positive Leftie didn’t kiss it that often when he was flying into battle against impossible odds.
“That’s because it’s finishing growing new skin. It’s supposed to tingle. I promise that ghost detection is not in your future.” Trip patted him on the shoulder and stood up.
Blackness encroached on his vision, and he held his hands out to steady himself.
Easy, Azarwrath said. You’ve done a lot today. Your body needs rest.
I don’t think anyone is getting any rest tonight. Trip looked toward Zirkander and the others and felt another wave of guilt for not having been here for the battle.
I missed it too if it makes you feel better, Jaxi spoke into his mind.
Trip didn’t think he’d left his bank vault door open, but he was tired, so maybe he was easier to read. Or maybe Jaxi could simply guess from his face.
I was helping teach a twelve-year-old to catalog medicinal herbs when the dragons came, Jaxi added. A scintillating task, let me tell you. By the time Sardelle and I reached the army fort, all the fliers were already up in the sky and engaged in battle. There was no way for us to join Ridge. Jaxi sounded like she felt as bad about missing out as Trip. If Bhrava Saruth had been here, Sardelle and I could have flown into battle on his back. Or at least gotten a ride to the fort so we could go up with Ridge. He likes having us with him.
I’m sure it’s a helpful advantage for him.
It absolutely is. If I had been up there, maybe he wouldn’t have lost people.
She sounded distressed on Zirkander’s behalf—or maybe she’d known the pilots who had been lost?—so Trip didn’t point out that it was something of an arrogant thought. Besides, hadn’t he thought something similar in regard to himself earlier?
“Trip,” Zirkander said, walking up behind him. “Ahn and Grady gave me their reports, but I want to hear directly from you about the meeting with the elder dragon. Is it true that there’s no chance that he’ll take up residence here and act as a large golden scarecrow?”
Zirkander’s uniform was rumpled and stained with soot and engine grease, and he looked wearier than a sled dog at the end of a five-hundred-mile trek. Trip wished he had better news.
“Sorry, sir.” He seemed to be apologizing a lot tonight. “Unless Shulina Arya develops an interest in him, I don’t think so.”
“What?” Zirkander looked at Sardelle with a puzzled expression.
She lifted a single shoulder.
“Drysaleskar found her fetching, sir,” Trip said, “but she rebuffed his attempts to woo her.” Woo was hardly the word to describe the clumsy advance he had witnessed, but he lacked a better term.
“Is she even old enough to be wooed?” Another look at Sardelle. Maybe Zirkander considered her his guide to all things magical. And dragon-related. “I’ve seen her on wheels.”
“If she is, I suspect she would be more drawn to a younger soul,” Sardelle said, then yawned and rubbed her neck. “I want to check on our surrogate mothers to make sure nothing happened to them or the babies in the attack.”
Zirkander nodded.
“Trip, do you want to come along?” she asked.