I flipped to the last page, last paragraph.
My love, I fear we must leave soon. People are dying, both from starvation and from illness. She is fine, I make sure she eats, but I cannot go much longer on so little. I will write again when we find somewhere better to live.
Those had been Mother’s last words to Merram. Krysta had starved herself, for me, and while we searched for a better place, she had caught the Sickness. And died.
Merram hadn’t known where to find me. I had become yet another orphan. I suspected he hadn’t even known my name… until my manifestation.
My manifestation of a Gift that doesn’t work.
“And since my magic doesn’t work,” I rolled to my stomach and fingered the pages spread out on the bed, “I’ll be forced to leave before I can show you to Merram.”
What am I willing to do to stay?
Using Thorkel’s instructions didn’t mean I’d have to go to him. What if the sapphire vision meant I should accept his help? And the dragon vision, what if it meant the First One wanted me to stop Thorkel?
I laughed, hollow, and my breath fluttered Mother’s letters. I could lie to myself and imagine all sorts of heroic deeds. In the end, using the sapphire meant I’d feel like I owed Thorkel, dragon-slaying genius or no.
I have a week.
A hopeless week.
I pushed off the bed and gathered the pages, taking care to keep them in order. I stuffed them into my empty boot and went to the living room, determined to practice without end. One week. One week to succeed.
If I didn’t, I’d use the sapphire.
Because, for the first time in my life, I felt accepted. I loved the Dragon Quarters. Kits would hatch any day now, and I wanted to see a baby dragon grow. I wanted a dragon of my own. Paige was beginning to believe I wouldn’t abandon our friendship, and Shamino—
A lump formed in my throat. Shamino. Ox-brained idiot. I still couldn’t believe he thought I’d use Jerroth, even out of desperation. Shamino’s reaction almost suggested he—
The bell rang by the door. No one ever rang my bell. I checked the Spheres—early evening. The bell began to jingle again, so I pulled the door open.
“Hello,” Shamino said. He tried a smile, then spoke to the floor. “I’ve, um, come to apologize. May I come in?”
The lump filling my throat began to soften. Damn him, looking all pathetic. But… should I even be angry at him?
Yes. He had only been thinking like a noble. Which I never act. And he had spoken out of concern, because he cared for me and didn’t want me to ruin my life.
“Sure.” I followed him to the creaky sofa and tried for, if not a reassuring smile, a less-disgusted frown. “It’s a bit early for you to leave the Quarters.”
“Yeah, well, I needed to apologize, and the dragons were exasperated with me, and Sylvia said—anyway.” He ran a hand through his hair, still not looking at me.
He does that when he’s nervous. It always gave him a bewildered, boyish appearance, one I loved. My annoyance vanished entirely. “I forgive you. You were concerned and… cranky. Sometimes I’m cranky, too.”
He laughed, looking up. “Perhaps, but you’re not—what did you call me? An ox-brain? I should add that to my growing list.”
I gritted my teeth. Pigshitting peasant curse.
“I deserved it,” Shamino said. “In fact, as an apology… seeing as I’m not allowed back at the Quarters tonight… If you’re not busy, that is, would you like to go to the theater?”
Surprised excitement wiped away every negative thought in my head. “A play?”
“I’m buying the tickets as my apology. Unless, of course, you demand a Letter of Groveling instead.”
“First time, you apologized with chocolate, and now you’re buying me theater tickets.” I grinned. “We need to fight more often.”
“That’s a yes, then?” Before I could nod, he rambled on. “If not, I understand. The play starts in three-quarters of a Sphere and I know that’s not much time to get ready but—something is wrong.”
I rubbed the sofa’s cushion where the fabric had thinned. The theater. A noble thing. “This getting ready… What do I wear?”
“Whatever you want.” He tilted his head. “Have you never gone?”
“Not here, at the Kyer,” I said in a rush, as if saying things quickly made a lie foolproof. Adara of Threepines surely had seen plays. Even backwater nobles paid unskilled troupes for entertainment. “I’ll change.”
He leaned back. “I’d say you look fine, but something a tad more formal might be appropriate.”
I laughed again, an uncomfortable laugh this time. When I answered the door, I hadn’t given thought to my clothes—stained breeches and a dingy white shirt with a hole in the elbow. Which is what I wear at the Quarters when I oil. Why am I feeling self-conscious? And how many fire-blasted emotions can I go through in one Sphere?
“One moment.” I hurried to my dressing room to sift through my options. I didn’t have many. Did nobles wear the same clothes over and over? There was the outfit I’d worn to Tressa’s party, which I hated. The gown for the ball, even I knew that was too fancy.
Maybe… I pulled out my secret purchase: the green dress. It couldn’t be fashionable; it had been too cheap, for a gown. But I’d wanted it so much when I bought my outfit for Tressa’s party. It had still been at the seamstress’s when I’d purchased my ballgown. I couldn’t resist.
Silky-smooth fabric whispered over my skin as I pulled it on. It hugged my body, except for flares at the skirt and sleeves, and it felt like a dream. I surveyed myself in the mirror. The dress was absolutely lovely.
The rest of me? My braid was fine for the Quarters, bad for public. I pulled it out and finger-combed, hoping the waves didn’t go frizzy as they gradually returned
