Color rushed to his cheeks and neck and he cleared his throat again. “He’s an old colleague, and I told them you were part of my crew, that he didn’t need to worry about you.”
She squinted, like if she narrowed her eyes she could focus better, see all the details he was leaving out. “Easy as that? So Birdie and Bee and Patch have all met him?” She tilted her head to the side to study Stone. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, averting his eyes. He was nervous, but she couldn’t pin why.
“Oh they’ve met him.”
“What did you really tell him?”
“Shit,” he muttered. “They’re overprotective of the Outpost. They think it’s their territory–”
“It is the kingdom’s.”
Stone held up a hand. “I know, but they think it’s theirs since no one from Vargah has ever deigned to visit.” He let out a long breath. “I told him you were with me, that we were together, and that I trust you.”
A prickle of nervousness shot down Aesira’s spine. “What do you mean you told him we were together? As intogether, together?” He nodded, his face reddening. She glanced at the box andconsidered throwing it at him but decided since she didn’t know what was in it, she couldn’t risk it breaking. “You should have run this by me first.”
“This was the only way to get him to believe you weren’t a threat.” Stone pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can go back to bossing everyone around tomorrow, but for tonight you’ll have to trust me.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Do you have a better one, Commander?”
She bit the tip of her thumb. “Unfortunately not.”
Stone sighed, slipping his glasses back on. “Our meeting is in two hours.” He pointed to the box he’d handed her that she was still gripping like her life depended on it. “Wear that.”
Eleven
Kamari
Kamari drifted through the Citadel like a ghost, a beaten down apparition of her former self. She used to be fun, she recalled. She used to enjoy life and all it had to offer.
She used to have hope. Hope for the changes she and Desmond would make. Hope for a future full of love and passion. Her mother always said she was her romantic child. Daydreaming of a world that knew peace before war and for a long time, she thought it was a complement. To find beauty in the midst of pain. Find hope despite despair.
Now, it seemed the well of hope she thought once to be endless had dried up.
Meetings with the council, preparations for Naming Day, all loomed over her shoulder like a rising storm. She could only stallfor so long before she’d need to address Desmond’s disappearance. She just needed more time to find something, anything, to give her hope, to give thepeoplehope.
She flipped aimlessly through one of Desmond’s journals, pausing on a page to trace her finger over his handwriting. The swoopy ‘y’s and short ‘t’s.
Words were scribbled at the edge of the page. Some circled several times. Others underlined so hard he broke through the paper. She still had no idea what most of them meant, but every time her eye caught a particular word, her stomach plummeted.
Dragon.
She circled the word with her finger. This time, the passage was written so small she had to squint to make it out.
“...to find where they dwell would be our refuge, a way to reconcile the marks we’ve left on our country. Our world. They are not bringers of doom, but the hope of life.”
Passage after passage was more of the same. Dragons. Ravki. And with each entry she read, she knew she would have to keep the journals hidden. Away from any wandering eyes. To speak of dragons as the creators of life, and not Celestria, was a crime fit for death. “What were you up to, Desmond?”
She thought she’d come to know her husband well over the last year, but if he was able to keep his belief in dragons a secret, what else was he hiding?
A knock at the door had her slamming the journal shut. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. She had made a mess of Desmond’s office. Journals, ripped parchment, old cups of tea, all scattered about his desk.
“Your Majesty?”
“Just a moment.” Kamari shoved the journals into the desk and slammed the drawer shut. Sliding off her necklace, she locked each drawer with the tiny key before placing it back around her neck. “Come in.”
“Sorry, Majesty.” Nev stepped in, her eyes instinctively scanning the space. “I know you don’t like being interrupted when you’re in here.” There was a twinge of sorrow in Nev’s voice, maybe pity, but Kamari pushed it aside. “Lord Raffe has requested to see you.”
