I blew out a slow breath. “Do you? Have to go?”
Shamino scowled, and this time he looked less furious and more disagreeable. “I Incinerated two summons. My uncle insists, and I respect him.”
“Ah.” Awkward silence as he fumed and I felt, well, awkward. Finally, one thought broke through: Shamino is leaving.
A hollow sensation spread from my heart to my toes. Which was stupid. He was the Seneschal; he wouldn’t be gone forever. And maybe, just maybe, I could make myself immune to him while he was away.
And maybe at court he’d meet a beautiful noblewoman who was everything I wasn’t: outgoing and graceful and able to be all he needed—particularly, noble.
Don’t cry.
He took a notebook from the desk. “I’m leaving as soon as possible. I’ve asked Orrik to return for the Dragonmaster’s duties, but I need an acting Seneschal.”
It took me a few moments to realize he was staring at me. “You’re joking.”
“The dragons aren’t joking. They voted, and you’re it.”
“I’m a trainee!” I said, standing. “Sylvia’s been here forever and Byron—”
“I’m not the one to argue with,” he snapped, standing to face me.
“I—” I was letting his agitation get to me. “I just don’t understand dragons sometimes.”
“No, you understand them perfectly, until it’s about you.” He pointed at me with the notebook. “Then you insist on thinking yourself worthless.”
“I—”
“What did they do to you?” Shamino threw the book on the desk. “Sylvia says you never speak in class, you let Tressa puppet you around—”
“You’ve been talking about me?” I asked, my face heating.
“Yes! Because I’m concerned, Sylvia’s concerned, even Paige—she said the king’s dungeon isn’t as guarded as you. What did your family do to you?”
I wanted to bolt through the door, but nothing would change if I ran. Instead, I pictured Lily and Garth and answered about them, because then I could speak a truth. “They took care of me.”
“Clearly they did nothing but feed and clothe you.”
I crossed my arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?”
He took in the room, took in the chaos, took in the pile of green ash. He looked at me and I hugged myself tighter, because Shamino was gazing at me with an intensity that made me fear any moment he’d see the truth: Not only was I a liar, but I myself was a lie.
“Here.” He picked up the notebook again and shoved it at me. “We have a lot to cover.”
The tension lessened as we lost ourselves in duties and lists. Now that my Gift worked, I could do most of the Quarters’ tasks, but I didn’t know how Shamino decided what to do or when. Nor did I know what he did personally.
Most of all, I hadn’t realized that he kept detailed records of everything. What each dragon ate, if they slept, if they went flying, if they squabbled. Anything and everything that related to their physical or emotional health went into one of several notebooks.
A little over a Sphere later, Shamino’s study had phased from disaster to neatly cluttered.
“I think that’s it.” He surveyed the room again. “First One, I don’t want to go.”
“You’ll be back soon,” I said.
He grunted as if he didn’t believe it. “If something urgent comes up, use the courier system.”
I nodded. A string of dragons formed a triangle between the front, Dragonsridge, and the Kyer. Telepathic messages traveled in minutes. It was how Shamino already knew Orrik was on his way.
We stared at each other. There was nothing else to do, nothing else to say. He couldn’t kiss me goodbye. He couldn’t even hug me.
“You’ll be fine,” he finally said. “The dragons will take care of you.”
“Take care of yourself,” I said.
“I’ll have Raul.” But his eyes told me he’d rather have someone else, someone human, beside him.
We said goodbye without touching. The moment the door closed, I sank into his chair and surveyed the mess. I’d have plenty to keep me busy. I wouldn’t miss him. I dove into the first task.
Three days later, Shamino sent me a message via courier:
My absence will be longer than expected. I have inherited and need to deal with the estate.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I lit the altar’s candle. Two weeks had passed. Paige had told me that Shamino’s younger brother, Emory, had grown up wild. Thus, with bruised pride, Shamino’s father had irrevocably changed the inheritance. I told myself it didn’t matter. By blood, Shamino had always been highborn. By blood, I had always been forbidden.
“I am sorry it’s been so long,” I said to the flickering candle. I scattered silver nobles around it, along with one gold dragon. The Dragonmaster had sent some gold as a thank-you for acting as Seneschal. “You know there’s no good excuse, so I’ll get to the point. I miss him. When I’m caring for the dragons, when I record the day, always. I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t, and I don’t know what to do.”
The candle stopped flickering and stood true. An unwavering, steady flame. I hoped it meant the First One was listening.
“Zoland wants me to go to war once I bond. I’m good. Very good, he says. But if I go to the front, it feels like I’m running away from, well, Shamino. All I ever do is hide. It’s… easier, I guess. Hiding.”
I fell silent. Sometimes I wondered why I bothered praying. The First One never answered. At best, He gave me visions with absolutely no guidance. Thorkel could be anywhere flying on his angry dragon. And the black mage… in the vision I was somewhere indoors. That could be the Kyer, or Dragonsridge or, seriously, anywhere with chairs.
I removed the Record from its shelf under the bench. After a deep breath, I searched for the passage about the blue mage Cylia.
In the year 258, the First One chose the blue mage Cylia
