Heath was watching her closely, a bit of pastry sticking to his lip. She tossed him a handkerchief with a teasing grin, hiding her sorrow.
They chatted about little things while they finished the cakes—the townspeople they’d met on the island, when Selivia and Latch would return, and whether the Lord of Starry Cove would ever forgive Heath for using his gazebo as a dragon stable. Afternoon light streamed through the window, promising the storm wouldn’t come any closer today.
At length, Gramma Teall heaved a contented sigh. “I’ll be needing my nap now, child. Your young man didn’t wait here all day just to do the mending with me. Why don’t you take him for a walk?”
Tamri put away the empty cake box and helped Gramma Teall climb into bed. She removed the pewter dragonfly from her iron-gray hair and set it on the bedpost. Then she kissed her cheek, smelling tea and honey and a hint of saltwater.
“Thank you for the birthday, Gramma Teall. It was just what I needed.”
“Don’t you mope, child.” Gramma Teall seized Tamri’s hand for a moment. Her grip was as strong as ever, though her skin was wrinkled and papery, and her bones felt as light as a bird’s. “The Fire Queen knows what you can do, but don’t you let her hold you back either.”
Tamri blinked, surprised Gramma Teall had picked up on that quiet frustration. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now run along.” She poked Tamri with a gnarled finger. “Mind you stay out of the canals.”
“I promise.”
Gramma Teall lay back on the pillows, and Tamri tucked the blankets up to her chin. She was snoring peacefully before Tamri and Heath slipped out the door.
They walked side by side down the tiled corridor. A sea breeze blew through the open windows, stirring the elegant curtains so the windows looked like a row of sailboats. Their footfalls were lost in the gentle rustling.
“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” Heath said as they turned the corner to the main wing of the manor.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Oh, I see.” Heath rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to see her like this.”
Tamri sighed. “I turned eighteen three weeks ago. I’m happy Gramma Teall remembered it, even if the date isn’t quite right.”
Heath stopped dead. “But you didn’t tell me three weeks ago either!”
“I guess I didn’t.” Tamri frowned, surprised at his vehemence. “Are you mad?”
“No, but I would have gotten you something.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to,” Heath said. “You know I care about you, right? I think I’ve been pretty clear, but I’ll say it again if you like.”
“I know.” Tamri wasn’t sure why she of all people had inspired the big stern dragon rider to reveal his softer side. Gramma Teall had been the only person in her life for so long, and the fact that she and Heath could care about each other just as much had been a revelation. “You don’t want me to ‘throw my life away like it doesn’t matter.’ See? I didn’t forget.”
Heath shook his head ruefully. “This isn’t about life-or-death situations or grand sacrifices.” He took her hands in both of his. “I also just like you, Tamri. I want to know everything about you—your birthday and your favorite kinds of cake and what you think about when you’re staring at me.”
Tamri looked down at their hands. Calluses roughened Heath’s palms, and the scar she’d given him marked his forearm, a white line against tan. When he drew her closer, he smelled of clean leather and dragon musk. A thrill went through her, like Lightning dancing through her veins. But it scared her in a way even the Thunderbird Queen didn’t.
Everything with Heath was still so new, and she didn’t know what was next when you cared about someone like this. Could she kiss him whenever she wanted to? Could she tell him she admired his body and thought about touching him all the time? She liked teasing him and seeing him flustered, partly because it covered her own inexperience.
She cleared her throat. “All that stuff isn’t important while we have a mad dragon on the loose.”
“Yes, it is.” Heath tipped her chin up, his warm fingers brushing her neck. “You take good care of Gramma Teall, but you’re not very good at letting people take care of you. Gramma Teall agrees with me, by the way.”
“Hey! That’s not fair.”
“You told me once that you trust me,” Heath said. “So trust me on this.”
He moved a hand to her waist, the green silk bunching under his fingers, and drew her closer. Tamri felt as if dragonflies were trying to escape from her stomach. She did trust him, which meant she was safe regardless of how much experience she had. She brushed Heath’s thick hair back from his forehead, fingertips tangling in his curls. Before she could lose her nerve, she went up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. He kissed her back—with enthusiasm.
“Okay, fine,” she said when she could breathe again. “I’ll let you get me presents and keep me alive.”
“Thank you,” Heath said. “And you should trust Queen Dara too. She’s not trying to hold you back. She wants to protect you.”
Tamri didn’t answer. She believed Dara wished her well, but she resented her refusal to let her take any risks.
“I’ll try,” she told Heath honestly. “Now, do you want to walk me to the hot springs? Dara told me to get cleaned up before I report for more paperwork.”
“I could do with a swim,” Heath said.
“Good.” She grinned. “Maybe I won’t even make you turn around.”
Heath’s eyes widened, and he blushed straight to his hairline, which was gift enough, really. Tamri could get used to this.
3
Selivia Amintelle Brach, Lady of Soole and Princess of Vertigon, tapped her dancing slippers on the balcony of her sister’s palace. The walled city of New Rallion spread before her like a painting. Music and laughter poured out of the ballroom behind her, harmonizing with the city noises.
The capital of Trure was breathtaking. Early-spring flowers bloomed among walls of pale local stone, and the orange-and-purple smear of the sunset highlighted the elegant lines of half-finished towers and distant ramparts. Despite the fading light, the din of construction work resounded through New Rallion, a sign that it was thriving after the old city had been sacked and destroyed six years ago.
The music from the party swelled as a new song began, and the guests hurried onto the dance floor. Selivia fiddled with a ruffle on her dress absently. The ball was being held in her honor, but she was finding it hard to enjoy dancing and pretty dresses the way she used to. She’d been through difficult ordeals at Thunderbird Island and during the attacks on Sharoth. Despite the two weeks it had taken to ride here on horseback, she couldn’t distance herself from the harrowing experiences. She awoke at the slightest sound, expecting gigantic birds to burst through her windows, and she couldn’t look at the sky without scanning it for wings.
The thunderbirds are far away, she told herself for the thousandth time. We’re not in danger here. Maybe if she said it enough times, she would start to believe it. She felt especially vulnerable without Mav. Her true dragon companion had stayed behind to watch over Sharoth in case the Lightning dragon returned.