Though I had no idea how. Getting Shamino to leave Tressa’s side without her shouting my secrets might be more difficult than slaying Thorkel’s dragons. I told myself I’d figure it out on the way. First, I needed to find him, and I really should ask Mettalise if she had any ideas. I lowered the block—
Mettalise burst in my head. *We need you in the Quarters. Rose is sick, and we can’t find Shamino.*
I halted, jarred out of my own thoughts by her panic. *What? Sick? Um, can you get Sylvia to tend her, I need to—*
*Sylvia’s unconscious. She brewed a potion for her cold, and her dragon says she won’t wake for hours. Byron’s with Rose, but he’s useless if he can’t use magic. You, however, have read all those healing books, and you grew up without a healer, right?*
*I’ll come right away.* I wanted to shout a thank-you to the First One—we could interrupt the proposal with a reason that wouldn’t make Tressa attack me. *You dragons need to find Shamino fast, and not just for Rose. I’ll tell you on the way.*
Chapter Thirty-One
Byron and Mia, Rose’s mother, sat with the motionless kit in the nursery. Pelor had been taken away. The silence unnerved me. Usually Rose and Pelor romped about, shrieking and destroying most everything.
“I’ve never seen her stay still,” I said as I knelt beside her and Byron. Rose regarded me with a dull eye. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Mia senses nausea and head pains,” Byron said. Baby dragons didn’t develop telepathy until six months of age; until then, the dragons and Shamino only got vague impressions.
Mia nodded in confirmation.
I touched Rose’s back. “She’s cool. Not cold, but her temperature isn’t right. Dull scales, tired… has she eaten recently? She ate breakfast.”
“She ate a little at midday, nothing at dinner. I haven’t seen her drink much water, either.”
“We’ll try to get her to eat and drink.” I addressed Mia. “We should transfer her to a small room with fewer drafts. Maybe one of the storage rooms.”
Mia considered, then bowed her head. Byron and I hurried to the emptiest of the adjoining rooms and made a nest of blankets.
“I can’t believe he left,” Byron said as he carried in a bucket of water.
I paused as I dragged ‘toy’ logs into the main room. “You mean Shamino knew? And he still left?”
Byron nodded. “It wasn’t serious then, but I told him she’d been acting odd.”
“How did he react?”
“He shrugged it off. Said she’d be fine for a few hours.” Byron frowned. “He was barely listening, like, I don’t know, like the way he is when he’s healed all night. Distant.”
If I needed proof of Tressa’s influence, that was it. Shamino would never leave an ill kit. Anger surged at Tressa—how could she not at least pretend to care about the things he cared about?
Byron went to fetch some meat while Mia carried her daughter to the storage room. Carefully she reached inside and settled Rose in the nest. I covered the kit with a blanket.
“I’ll stay with her,” I told Byron when he handed me some steak. He looked exhausted. He’d taken most of my Spheres while I obeyed Tressa and stayed away. With Sylvia ill and Shamino irresponsible, he’d become Seneschal and more.
“I’ll join the hunt,” he said. “Contact me via dragon if you need me.”
Mia left as well, to search for Shamino from the air. I closed the door and settled by Rose.
“I have some meat for you,” I said. Small blue flames appeared in the palm of my hand. With care I changed the tips to real, orange fire. With my other hand I dangled the steak so that it seared on both sides. Not too long. Dragons preferred barely cooked food. “Here. Eat what you can.”
With effort, Rose lifted her head and chewed. She only ate half the meat. I coaxed her into drinking a little water from the bucket. When she finished, her head crashed into the blankets rather than lowered; I eased her head into my lap and stroked it. I whispered her stories from my childhood, figuring she was too little to know that nobles didn’t live in huts, or that the winter wind shouldn’t stab through threadbare clothing. Soon she fell asleep. It was almost nice, the sleeping baby in my lap, if not for the reasons that had placed her there.
I reached for Mettalise. *She’s sleeping. Still no sign of Shamino?*
*He’s not in the Kyer, that’s certain. Raul pointed out that picnics are outside…*
I cringed. It could take hours to find them. Without Transportation spells, the surface of four mountains was huge.
*For the first time, I hate these trees,* Mettalise said. *We can’t see him, and he likely can’t see us. Can you give Rose a potion to make her better? This is going to take a while.*
Sylvia’s potions rarely lasted more than a few days after brewing, and even if I had one, I wouldn’t know the dose for a baby. I told Mettalise as much and asked her to keep looking.
Rose let out a sharp cry and bunched up in my lap.
“Shhh, I’m here for you.” If only Shamino hadn’t blocked Raul. If only Tressa didn’t think solely of herself. If only I could heal. “Is it your stomach? Or—”
The baby dragon retched.
Raw meat and stomach acid spewed all over my clothing. The smell—I fought to keep myself from copying her as I patted her head. Her vomiting slowed to empty heaves; then, finally, Rose collapsed with a groan.
“No more food. Got it.” I forced another gag into a smile. “I’m fine. I don’t like these breeches, anyway. Can I go clean up?”
She blinked. When I stood, my breeches clung to my legs and my stomach rolled. I barely managed to Incinerate the mess on the stone floor, and that added an entirely new smell. I did the same
