“You too,” I reply, already easing into the space.
We gather around the table and Lyra pours wine with her usual flourish.
The conversation drifts easily—village gossip, spring plantings, the new baker with the laugh too loud for his own good. But now and then, I catch Mother’s steadying hand brushing Father’s.
Aiel’s voice echoes faintly in my thoughts:Shadeheart.
Across the table, Galen leans toward Revan, eyes twinkling. “Did you see the dragons fly past the village yesterday?”
“I did! One was green like grass in spring!”
The table goes quiet for a beat too long.
“Haven’t seen a green dragon in years,” Father says eventually, voice low. “Thought they’d stopped bonding altogether.”
Mother shifts in her seat, voice gentle. “Let the boy dream.”
Lyra looks at my parents, eyes tight, then turns to the boy. She grins as she pours Revan a cup of berry juice. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to climb onto the roof to see better.”
“I did try,” Revan says proudly. “But Mama caught me.”
That sends a ripple of laughter around the table.
Then he turns to me, eyes shining. “I’m going to be a rider someday. I’ll fly really high and spit fire at all the evil.”
I laugh. “Even the baker’s son?”
He tilts his head. “Only if he’s really, really mean.”
I laugh. “Do you think I could be a rider?”
He appraises me. “Yes.”
I glance down at my hands—still dirt-stained from the fields. “I don’t know. I’m a farmer.”
Revan frowns, deep in thought. “Well . . . dragons don’t care about dirt.”
His head whips toward Galen. “How do I become a rider?”
Galen chuckles, setting down his cup. “Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Galen leans back, gaze drifting to the deepening sky outside. “You don’t become one by trying. Dragons choose. They see something in you—even if you don’t see it yet.”
I feel the words settle, quiet and certain, like seeds in soil.
Father adds, voice low, “You have to become a warrior first before the dragon calls.”
Revan’s eyes widen. “I do?”
“You do,” Father nods.
Revan puffs his chest. “I can do that! I’m strong and fast and clever!”
Lyra smirks behind her napkin. “That’s right you are!”
Tamsen’s eyes twinkle as she watches the boy. “Too clever for your own good.”
Revan’s face lights up. “And then I’ll be able to channel! Right?!”
The table chuckles, but it’s my father who answers.
