I wondered what it would be like having someone in my head all the time. Maybe it would be nice, as Fieran had claimed, to have a best friend always with you.
On the other side of the selection and the claiming ceremonies, if I didn’t burn…what would it be like?
“Shadowbane thinks we should marry immediately, and then I cantell you what I’m plotting. The protection of royalty that shields me from my mother would protect you, too, as my wife.”
“No offense, but I’m not taking advice from someone namedShadowbane.”Where did dragons get these names from? Were they doled out by mortals, nicknames given because none of us knew the dragon language, or had they accidentally chosen them?
Fieran didn’t look offended on Shadowbane’s behalf. “Get some rest. Give some more thought to asking me to marry you.”
“I won’t,” I called after him.
“Never?” he shot back over his shoulder, and then he left me.
Forty-Two
The next day was spent recovering before the stresses of the final trial–dressed up though it might be as a banquet. I slept too late, emerging with my stomach growling and every muscle aching well past noon, but it didn’t matter.
The warm scent of tea curled through the air in the common room. Platters of shiny fruit, sandwiches, and cakes were spread across the table. I had the discomfiting feeling that Fieran had ordered all this food for my sake.
As much as I hated being seen so clearly, I hated being hungry even more. I was not going to complain, so I sat down at one of the benches and began to eat.
A mortal servant hustled into the room, then stopped and stared at me, awestruck. “Sorry,” she said to me, a beat too late. Then fear flashed across her face, as if she wasn’t supposed to speak to me.
Or tous? Were mortals not supposed to speak to us? Given how I’d asked Fieran for a wish, I supposed I could understand if the shifters felt dogged by mortals with secret demands.
I smiled at her, trying to make her feel at ease. “What’s your name?”
“Heida.” She hurriedly began unloading the tray she carried.Because I neededmorecakes, clearly, and another carafe of spiced, milky-sweet tea.
“I’m Cara. It’s nice to meet you.”
She looked up, tongue-tied but pleased to meet me—thrilled, even—and my smile turned genuine.
“It’s strange being the only mortal in here.” I waved my hand to indicate the room, hoping to forge some kind of connection based on our shared mortality.
“You’re not really mortal, are you?” she asked. “You look like one of them.”
“They used magic to make me less…” I trailed off at the flash of jealousy that had crossed her face. “I’m still short.”
She smiled, her expression easing at that reminder. “Well, me too. Don’t you feel like a child next to them?”
“I do, until you realize how prone to tantrums they are. I have a seven-year-old sister who is more mature. We can’t be fooled by the height.”
She laughed, then her gaze flashed up. I knew there was a shifter coming down the hall behind me even before she hastily set down the last plate of meats and cheeses, then turned and fled.
I turned to see who had ruined my fun.
“Brace yourself,” Anayla said as she came around and dropped into the seat across from me. Her hair was loose for once, spilling in blue waves around her narrow waist; she wore her usual black leathers with a Bismyth purple corset. “Kami’s going to visit to help with your hair.”
“And to make me pretty enough to be seen by you all?” I muttered.
“Not your enemy, Cara,” Anayla said mildly as she searched the table for the perfect snack. “I’ve been trying to be your friend.”
“Why?” I asked bluntly.
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Why? An excellent question!”
I couldn’t help but grin, and after a second, her expression shifted into a smile too.
