Someone clapped his hands, and the woodwind player increased his volume for a few seconds before winding down.
“I know that the ceremony is starting.” Rysha winked and walked over to stand with the elite troops sword wielders who were also being given medals.
Trip? Rysha thought, glancing back at him. Are you listening?
I’m always attentive to your needs.
Exactly what a woman wants to hear. Rysha looked skyward, toward the weapons platform. When you get a chance, use your dragonly powers to paint a mural on the bottom of that, will you? It’s all beams and girders and conduits and who knows what. It’s hideous. There have already been newspaper articles complaining that it’ll bring down property values in the city.
So does having dragons light your neighborhood on fire.
Or your orchard or vineyard.
Trip grimaced. He hadn’t meant to remind her of that. Sorry.
It’s all right. I’m merely suggesting that if it’s possible…
My dragonly powers didn’t grant me the ability to do artwork, but I’ll see if I can find an interested party who would like to work on it for little-to-no pay.
Excellent.
I think Tylie likes art, Trip said, inspiration striking. I’ve seen her wandering around the house with brushes.
She already babysits for little-to-no pay, doesn’t she? Rysha asked. She may be looking to move up the financial ladder.
I’ll ask. Maybe I can find someone to babysit for her while she paints.
That… actually could be easier than you think soon. She gave him that knowing smile again.
Once again, he was tempted to pry, but someone thumped him on the back.
“Nice flower, Trip,” Leftie said. “Very manly.”
“Not everybody can afford to adorn himself with gold balls.” Trip allowed himself to be drawn over to join the other pilots.
“Just one of my balls is gold. The other is tungsten.”
Duck, Pimples, and General Zirkander all turned toward Leftie, their faces taking on expressions ranging from puzzled to deeply concerned.
The musician played the final notes as the king walked in flanked by his bodyguards. Even though more than two dozen soldiers were receiving medals, Trip suddenly felt nervous and worried he would do something wrong. There had to be close to two hundred people in the garden, including two journalists with pads and pens and a photographer with a large box camera set up near the king’s small dais. What if Trip tripped on his way up to get his medal? The two previous times he’d been awarded medals, they had simply been given at the front of the end-of-day company formation back in Charkolt. Not in front of royalty. Or photographers.
Two assistants trailed the king and the bodyguards, one carrying a velvet-lined box with the medals inside and the other carrying a tray with its contents hidden by a silver dome. As the king turned to face the gathering, the medal recipients lined up in tidy squads. The rest of the people, a mixture of soldiers and civilian relatives, found seats.
As soon as everyone was quiet, King Angulus started a speech about bravery and selfless sacrifice and protecting the country. Trip would have paid more attention, but he was distracted by sensing a dragon approaching. Not an enemy this time, fortunately. Shulina Arya.
Did she plan to come watch her rider get a medal? If she flew over the garden in her dragon form, that might alarm those audience members who weren’t yet accustomed to seeing dragons up close. Trip looked toward the garden entrances, also envisioning her arriving in human form and on a scooter.
While he was looking back there, his gaze snagged on two familiar faces, faces he hadn’t expected to see here. His grandmother and grandfather stood behind the seating area with Sardelle.
Trip lifted a hand and almost spoke to them telepathically before catching himself. They might have gotten the newspapers and learned more about him than they had ever suspected—he’d written a couple of letters since coming out west and had mentioned embracing his talents and studying with Sardelle—but he still hadn’t broken the dragon-sire news to them, and he’d been intentionally vague when explaining where his little siblings came from. He doubted they were ready for telepathic greetings.
They saw his wave, smiled, and waved back, appearing supportive rather than judgmental. Not that he’d expected anything less from them. After all, they had sacrificed much over the years, moving often to keep him safe.
Not far from them stood Rysha’s aunt Tadelay. Trip was glad she wasn’t looking at him, because he would have blushed horribly—he still hadn’t gotten over the circumstances, and lack of clothing, of their first meeting.
To his surprise, Rysha’s mother and father stood next to her aunt. Trip hoped their presence here meant they were coming to accept Rysha’s enlistment in the army. Though they were nudging each other and pointing at Major Kaika, not at their daughter. Quite a few people in the audience were doing that. And the box camera seemed to be pointed in her direction. Were some—or many—of these people here to see the future queen? Maybe they had little interest in the soldiers receiving medals.
Oddly, Trip found that a relief. Maybe nobody would even look at him.
Leftie cleared his throat and poked Trip with an elbow. “He said your name,” Leftie whispered.
“Oh!” Trip blurted, turning back to the front and catching King Angulus looking at him as Duck strode back from the dais, having just been pinned with his medal.
Trip’s first instinct was to sprint up there so he didn’t cause a hold up, but that would be a good way to draw attention, and he’d just been delighted that the attention was focused elsewhere.
He lifted his chin, let a tiny bit of his scylori show, and strode forward, attempting to look dignified. Angulus’s eyebrows twitched. Trip hoped he wouldn’t ask if he’d had a haircut recently.
While Trip was in the middle of saluting, Angulus’s gaze flicked to his chest—no, to his lilac—but he didn’t comment on it. Maybe Trip should have tucked that fully inside the pocket.
“We thank you for your service to Our country, Captain Telryn Yert,” Angulus said solemnly and held his hand out toward one of the assistants.
The blank-faced man placed a gold medal in Angulus’s grip. Trip hoped Leftie wouldn’t ask that he receive tungsten instead of gold.
“I suspect you’ll be pleased to know,” Angulus said in a low voice, stepping forward to pin the medal on the flap of Trip’s jacket pocket, the one opposite the pocket holding the non-regulation lilac, “that Lord Lockvale, once he recovered his voice, came to see me with his brother. He said that he believed he made an error that night outside of the Ravenwood property and that you did not attack him.”
Once he got his voice back? What did that mean?
Trip resisted the urge to glance back at Rysha, though Angulus did look in her direction, smiling slightly.
“I’m glad to hear that, Sire. Does that mean there won’t be an inquest?”