Hearing her say it aloud was ten times worse than suspecting she knew. My terror tried to shift into panic, but I gripped my teacup harder and tried to picture a lake. The delicate handle cracked. “I can’t control Shamino’s feelings. He’s doing everything you’re asking.”
“He’s fighting me every minute.”
“Then maybe you should choose someone who wants you.”
Tressa inhaled and I instantly regretted my words. Quick as lightning, she grabbed my wrist. The teacup struck the chair’s arm, shattering and soaking the embroidered roses to black.
“You will ask the Dragonmaster for permission to join him, and you will keep your distance from Shamino until then.” Her thumb dug into the tender flesh between my wrist bones. “If you dare try to ruin me, I will tell Shamino your secret. Your greatest friend will know you as the deceiver you are. And if there is anything Shamino hates more, it is those who pretend to be what they are not.”
Her words eclipsed the pain in my wrist. She was right. Shamino hated his father partly because he pretended to be a loving, perfect parent. The fiancée who lied about her love had caused him to hate all women for years. If Shamino knew about all my lies, he’d hate me, too. Forever.
“Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said. It came out as a whimper. “Yes!”
“Good.” She tossed my wrist away, and I cradled the red and purple flesh. “Now go.”
I fled.
The letter did not take long to write. Zoland, after all, had planted the idea long before Tressa forced it on me. To ensure she couldn’t find fault, I asked an enthusiastic Zoland to enclose his support with my request. With his joy came an offer of extra practice; extra practice meant less time for the Quarters.
This is what Merram wanted all along. His blue, fighting in the war. There was no need for shame. Or loathing, of myself or Tressa. Once I was in the Dragonmaster’s presence, I could alert him to Tressa’s threat. Even more, I could show him Krysta’s letters and finally learn the truth. On the front, I’d find my place.
I sent the request by horse.
The second week of courtship passed—without Paige’s prediction coming true. I distracted myself by focusing on my magic lessons and on the kits.
“Ow! Don’t throw so hard!” I said to the golden kit. His mother had named him Pelor, and he’d already outgrown me.
I tossed the ball back. His sister, simply named Rose, jumped high enough to snatch it away. With a screech of indignation, her brother ran after her. I laughed as they wrestled, chased, and wrestled again.
“They’re getting big,” came Shamino’s voice.
My amusement died. I hadn’t seen him in days. The skin under his eyes still seemed bruised; his color, pale. He was too gaunt. Too hollow.
“May I watch with you?” he asked, gesturing to a pair of seats along the wall of the nursery.
If Tressa finds out… Inside I trembled, but I still said yes. For long moments we didn’t speak as the kits tackled each other and scrabbled for the ball.
“I miss them,” he whispered. As he said it, he looked at me.
My chest tightened. I took care to nod at the kits. “Nothing’s kept you from them. They’re always here.”
“Yeah. They are.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been neglecting… everything. But it’ll be over soon. Everything will be normal.”
“Will it?” I asked without thinking. He flushed, and for the first time I felt glad about my request to leave. It was hard enough before, pretending to be friends. It’ll be worse when Tressa is his wife.
In front of us, Rose tried to bury the ball among the bed-stones while Pelor hid his face with his wingtips. I cleared my throat. “I should have told you earlier, but I asked Merram to approve of my going to the front. He should get the request in a week or so.”
Shamino jerked. “You asked to leave the Quarters? But I need you here.”
Pelor came to search under my chair. “Silly. You can see nothing’s there.”
“I understand things have been strained, but—”
“I love the dragons,” I said. I gave Pelor a gentle shove with my foot. “I don’t want to leave. But the fact is, I’m the Kyer’s blue.”
“Adara.” When I didn’t look at him, Shamino slipped his hand over mine. I recoiled, but he held fast. “Listen to me. You’ve seen what happens to those on the front.”
“Anyone can do what I do here.” I began repeating what I’d written to Merram. “My Talent isn’t dragon healing. It’s Fire. My experience with so many dragons gives me an advantage as well.”
“You can’t be ready for combat,” Shamino said. “You just started using your Gift.”
“Zoland offered to come with me to continue my training.”
He made a frustrated noise in his throat. “But—”
“You can replace me when you take on an apprentice for Sylvia.”
He released me. “Mettalise agrees?”
I hesitated. Mettalise didn’t mind going to war—her draconian heart soared with fantasies of knocking Thorkel’s dragon out of the sky. She had, however, also accused me of using the war as a hiding place. “She does.”
“Very well. When Mettalise is carried back here—Adara, if I lost you—” He took a deep breath. It rattled in his throat.
I felt Tressa’s nails in my skin. “You never had me.”
“Right.” He stood. “Right. I forgot.”
He slammed the nursery door behind him.
“That’s still too much,” Zoland said that evening as he surveyed the wall of flames I’d created. “Make it thinner, but hotter, and with much less Gift.”
Hotter always made me nervous when we practiced in Zoland’s personal rooms. The Kyer had taken on many new trainees, and the practice rooms weren’t always available for my extra sessions. Thus, Zoland’s apartment. Which was very flammable. We shoved furniture and rugs to the side, but two walls of his living room were floor-to-ceiling books. I’d suggested meeting outside, which
