I wondered what that would feel like, to know that you came first in someone else’s life beside your own. My heart squeezed with melancholic longing.
Brambleby let out a quiet huff of air.
I drifted over to scoop up the little dragon. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.” I flapped my hand noncommittally. “See you both later.”
“You don’t have to rush out so soon,” Kizzi insisted.
“Oh, that’s alright. I’ve got some things to do, anyways.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Inventory and whatnot. You know how it is.”
“I did inventory yesterday,” Tandor argued.
I scrambled for a better excuse. None found me. I flipped Bramble onto his back and cradled him like a baby. Shockingly, he let me. “Different stuff. Maybe I’ll get started on that dragon journal.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow, boss.”
I nodded in farewell.
“Sprites!” Kizzi shouted.
“On it, Godsblood!” a tiny voice called back.
The sprites burst into motion. Some of them leapt at Raine, who stood bouncing on the floor in the middle of the room. Others sped toward the door to pull it open with impressive efficiency. Others still drifted near me, whispering over my antlers, my shoulders.
It was all very organized. Much less chaotic than times previous. “Impressive,” I murmured as I drifted out the door. I glanced at Brambleby to find that he hadclosed his eyes, growing lax in my grasp. I wasn’t sure if he was sleeping, exhausted from his quick play session, or simply content to let me carry him.
“Right! They’re getting better!” Kizzi’s voice called after me. It sealed away with a resounding click as the door slid shut.
Unease straightened my spine as I stood in the kitchen of my cottage.
I couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering me. Rain pattered against the roof, splashing against the windows in a gentle staccato rhythm that should have been soothing, but instead set my nerves on edge.
The suns were covered with rain clouds, and it felt entirely too dark.
Brambleby slept peacefully in my arms. Surely, if something wastrulyamiss, he would have alerted me somehow.
Maybe.
I flicked one of his loosely hanging wings with my fingertip. He didn’t move.
Maybe I shouldn’t count on him to protect me. I was supposed to be protecting him, after all. He was just a baby.
Feigning nonchalance, I tucked the dragon into my bed, pulling the quilt entirely over his body.
It wouldn’t do much to protect him, but maybe, if something bad did happen, it would hide him enough to allow him to escape.
That paranoia, again. Such a nuisance. But I couldn’t shake it.
To ease the sensation, I decided to take a lap around the cottage. Or two. Just to be sure everything was as it should be.
Surely, I would find nothing. But then I would know for certain that my discomfort was unwarranted.
I started with the front door. I tugged on the handle, wiggled the lock, gave it a good shove. Everything held. I hung my cloak on the hook and quickly toweled off my feet and the floor by the door to clean up any lingering moisture and mud from the rain.
Then I moved to the kitchen. The shelves looked as they always did—cluttered and full. I didn’t eat at home often, but I liked to keep supplies on hand, just in case.
