Then I realize what I lack. “Skye, I don’t have anything to read.”
“No problem!” She gestures toward the portal window. “I’ll get you a book. Just tell me where to go.”
“No, I mean I don’t have any children’s books in the library.” There’s nothing of the type she read to the children the other day. It seems it’s time to add another new aisle.
“I thought that might be the case, so I brought some.” She opens her purse, pulls out a small stack of books, and hands them to me.
I grunt my thanks and open the first book. Trying to mimic how she made the characters come alive, I read to the younglings, who stare captivated at me. Their little wings flutter every time something exciting happens, and they lean close if a story gets a little bit scary, hands clinging to me for comfort. They clap with triumph when the main character wins in the end. Book after book, I read such as I’ve never read before, suffusing my voice with humor and emotion. It’s nothing a proper dragon scholar should do, and I can only imagine what my colleagues would say if any of them saw this.
For the first time in centuries, I don’t give a damn. The joy radiating from the young ones is all the reward I need.
As I finish another book, Reevie crawls higher on my lap. “More, more, more!” The other two take up the chant. I read another story, all three of the younglings tucked close, big eyes watching my every move. When I close the last book, Reevie fly-hops up my chest to throw his little arms around me, his face buried in my neck. “I miss you,” he says, then continues with his next breath. “Momma misses you, too.”
His words crack open my heart. A hundred memories of all the ways Illuminaria welcomed me over the past centuriesfill my mind. I see them anew—finally see them for what they truly are instead of through a filter of hurt.Iwas the one who turned away from my sister, the one who expected to be rejected and therefore rejected first.
Pain pours out, yet as it goes, it leaves behind a new feeling: hope. Dragons are long-lived. I have time to fix this.
“Tell your mother I miss her as well,” I rumble, hugging my nephew close.
When I find Skye watching from the other side of the room, I nod my thanks. None of this would be possible without her.
My amazing little witch has brought yet more joy into my life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Skye
The following afternoon, we’re in the middle of clearing another bookcase in the witch collection when the golden sparkles of my magic swirl around us like a glitter-cannon tornado. Where in the book will we land? How much time has passed?
Is this going to be another spicy scene?
My heart skips in a confused mixture of anticipation and dread. I want every second with Luke I can possibly have, since these memories will need to last a lifetime. But I don’t know if my squishy jelly heart can stand making love to him again, knowing he’ll never be mine.
We land in the middle of the empty dance studio, already in position, both of Luke’s hands on my waist. He looks so wrong without his horns and wings, like a pale imitation of himself, but he’s still Luke, and any version ofhim is better than no Luke.
“Another private dance lesson?” I whisper as Miss Michelle appears from the back.
He grunts his yes grunt, his face set in grumpy number three, mildly annoyed. His fingers tighten as he pulls me closer.
“Skye, Luke, how exciting. I’m so proud of all the progress you’ve made over the past months.”
I widen my eyes and mouth “months” at Luke.
He snorts. “No wonder the dancing skills of the in-book couple are so far ahead.”
“Today, I’d like for you to run through your routine from start to finish without stopping. During practices, we tend to stop whenever you make a mistake and start over, but you can’t do that in a competition. It’s important for you to break that habit now. So no matter what happens, I want you to keep going all the way through to the end.”
Snickerdoodle. Luke and I have never even seen the book couple’s routine, let alone learned it! Is it exactly likeDirty Dancingor have they adapted it?
“Let’s take a look at what you did last time.” Then Miss Michelle does the most amazing thingever. She clicks a remote, the television mounted on the wall springs to life, and a video plays of Luke and me dancing.
It’s seriously weird to see a video of yourself doing something you’ve never actually done, but I could weep with relief. Without this video, we might have looped forweekstrying to figure out what the book wants us to do.
Both of us hurry toward the TV, scouring the screen with avid eyes.
It’s the final dance ofDirty Dancing, exactly as the book’s blurb promised, a blend of dirty mambo meets ballroom.
On the video, Miss Michelle’s voice reinforces all the different moves we’re doing. “Dip, spin, mambo steps, turn, shoulder check, turn, mambo steps.”
