“How was it?” Heath asked. “You were gone longer than we expected. We were getting worried.”
“You were worried, dear,” Gramma Teall said. The birdlike old woman remained seated in her rocking chair, barely glancing up from her own sewing. “I knew my friend Rook would take care of her.”
“Of course, Gramma Teall.” Heath set his sewing carefully on the chair behind him and brushed a hand through his thick bronze hair, grinning shyly.
Tamri kicked off her wet boots by the door and unbuttoned her coat. “You call her Gramma now?”
Heath flushed. “She said I could.”
“And you’re sewing?”
“Needed something to do with my hands while I waited for you.” Heath cleared his throat as Tamri continued to undress. “Uh, should I step out?”
Tamri liked seeing the big, stern dragon rider flustered. She dropped her wet coat into a pile with her boots and reached for the laces on her tunic. “Up to you.”
“Oh, just turn around like a gentleman,” Gramma Teall said. She shot Tamri a disapproving look. “You shouldn’t tease the lad, child.”
Tamri shrugged, enjoying the way Heath’s face went crimson before he turned his back. She dumped her remaining wet clothes in the pile and pulled a dry tunic from the travel pack under her narrow bed. Gramma Teall had made it from fabric Selivia bought her in Sharoth. The green silk slipped through Tamri’s fingers like water, far finer than anything she’d owned in her former life. These were the clothes of a Wielder apprentice, not the desperate magic thief she had been a year ago.
Tamri finished dressing and told Heath he could turn around again. She sat cross-legged on her bed, and he sat beside Gramma Teall to resume his work. The needle looked tiny in his large tanned hands, but his movements were deft and his stitches even as he repaired a tear in the brown linen. Tamri’s heart swelled at the sight. She liked teasing Heath and making him blush, but when he sat with Gramma Teall in such companionable silence, she could barely breathe for the joy of it.
“So how was the patrol?” Heath asked after he tied off a row of stitches. “Are you tired?”
“A little. It was great to fly again.”
“Did Rook behave himself?”
“As well as you can expect from him.” She hesitated before telling the rest of the story, knowing Heath would be as concerned about the Lightning dragon ensnaring her as Dara was. But Tamri liked being able to tell Heath the truth about things after she’d been forced to lie for so long. She didn’t hold back as she described the storm, the thunderbirds, and the Lightning dragon’s voice in her mind. Gramma Teall listened closely, though it was difficult to tell how much of the context she remembered.
“The Fire Queen wants me to take a few more days off,” Tamri finished, “but I think we’re wasting a chance to learn more. I wish she’d let me try.”
“You don’t want to become another Lord Latch,” Heath said.
“I know. But the dragon is willing to talk, and we could learn so much from her. You know how intelligent dragons are.”
Heath had worked with Cindral dragons for years, and no one respected them more—except maybe Princess Selivia. Their esteem for the creatures was part of why Tamri wanted to try learning from the Lightning dragon.
“If she’s as intelligent as you suggest, that makes her more dangerous,” Heath said. “And she manipulates people.”
Tamri shrugged. “The Fire Queen can defeat her again if it comes to that.”
“We shouldn’t count on that,” Heath said. “I heard some Wielders saying Queen Dara hasn’t been using the magical substances lately.”
“Really?” Tamri combed her fingers through her damp hair, thinking back over the time she’d spent with Dara in that dining room full of papers. They’d been too busy monitoring the thunderbirds and Khrillin’s spies to resume Tamri’s Wielder training. But surely she’d seen Dara Wielding once or twice, hadn’t she?
“I’m worried she was injured during the fight, and she’s not fully recovered yet,” Heath said. “The battle took a lot out of all of you.”
“It has been more than a month,” Tamri said with a shrug—then grunted as pain ignited in her shoulders.
Heath could have a point, though. Dara had said not to count on her dual-Wielding too. Tamri knew of something apart from an injury that could explain the queen’s reluctance to Wield, something that could complicate their situation in the months ahead. Regardless of the reason, if the Fire Queen refused to Wield the magical substances together, they would be vulnerable if the Lightning dragon proved hostile.
Tamri frowned, recalling that electric voice in her mind, that hint of something like kinship. Impressive, Little Bird. Was it manipulation, as Heath feared? Or did the Lightning dragon have more to say? And would Tamri ever have a chance to find out?
“Don’t glower like that, child,” Gramma Teall said. “You’ll put creases in your forehead.” She touched her own wrinkled cheek, eyes twinkling. “I ought to know.”
Tamri put the voice out of her mind and smiled, relieved Gramma Teall was having one of her better days. She was tired and sore after her brush with the storm and the Lightning, but a sense of profound happiness filled her at being back in this warm little room with her two favorite people.
“Have you eaten yet, Gramma?” she asked. “I can fetch something from the kitchen.”
“The kitchen! That reminds me.” Gramma Teall set aside her sewing and poked Heath in the shoulder. “Fetch the box underneath my bed, dear.”
Heath got down on his knees to reach beneath the other small bed, his shirt stretching tight against his muscular back. Tamri couldn’t help watching. He was rather nicely put together, as Gramma Teall would say.
Heath withdrew a thick paper box from beneath the bed and looked up in time to catch Tamri staring. He raised an eyebrow, and this time she was the one to blush.
“Ahem.” Gramma Teall cleared her throat pointedly. “I didn’t get to be a hundred four to wait around while you two make eyes at each other. Hurry up, lad.”
“Yes, Gramma Teall.” Heath brought the box over and held it open for her.
“The cook made these special for your birthday, child.” Gramma Teall took out a small cake, which crumbled a bit in her bony fingers, and handed it to Tamri. “I bet you thought I’d forgotten.” She picked another cake from the box, cackling happily.
“Thank you.” Tamri eyed the cake, which was made of flaky pastry and nuts and slathered with honey, her throat suddenly too tight. “This looks good.”
“It had better taste good, too, after I badgered the cook for it.” Gramma Teall handed another cake to Heath. “That’s a Pendarkan specialty, in case you don’t know.” She grinned proudly at Tamri. “You don’t turn eighteen every day.”
“No, I guess not.” Tamri concentrated on her cake, trying to feign enthusiasm. She bit into the flaky pastry, and sadness rushed through her, a bitter companion to the sweetness of the honey.
This might be the last year Gramma Teall remembered her at all, never mind specific dates or details. Her memory sickness was progressing, and Tamri couldn’t do anything about it. Ollian, the king’s Watermight healer back in Pendark, had told her the damage to her grandmother’s brain was irreversible. The hidden pathways in Gramma Teall’s brain were being lost like roads overgrown with brambles. The Soolen healers couldn’t stop it either. Tamri couldn’t help wondering if the right kind of magic could restore them. The Thunderbird Queen used Lightning to ensnare people’s minds. Could she fix them too? The possibility, however far-fetched, was yet another reason Tamri wanted to learn more from the Lightning dragon before they locked her away for good.