“How come she hatched, but the others haven’t? Are they from different, uh, nests? Clutches?” Moss paused, an oyster dangling precariously from one hand. “I… their mom must have been in dragon form, right? And this is the point where I backpedal and say, let’s let dragon business stay dragon business; I don’t need to know how the birds and the bees work for them.”
“They’re from the same clutch. Um. For the birds and the bees, your guess is as good as mine—”
“And I’m not guessing. This is where the speculation ends.” Moss waved his hand. Maggie’s nose followed the oyster shell, her nostrils quivering.
“Maggie didn’t hatch until she was separated from the others. But—” Carol held up her hands as Maggie’s head whipped around. “We’re not going to try that! They’ll hatch when they’re ready. They’re alive in there. Just… waiting.”
She placed a hand over one of the eggs. It was warm beneath her touch, whether from the sun or the fire or its own heat, shedidn’t know. She concentrated, and the little electric hum of life within the jewel-like egg glowed. “What are they waiting on, I wonder.”
Though really, maybe it was a good thing the other two eggs hadn’t hatched yet. She couldn’t imaginethreeMaggies running around.
She shared this thought with Moss—silently, so Maggie wouldn’t overhear and get any ideas. Not that she needed their help having ideas. Moss laughed, and Maggie struck, snatching the oyster from his hand and scampering behind a rock to devour it.
It was the perfect moment.
She put off telling the truth. There would be time later. Right?
17
Moss
Another day ended. No sign of rescue. No idea where the hell they were. Just the sky and the sea and the echo of a kiss on his lips that left him aching for another taste.
“Moss?”
Carol was at the mouth of the cave. She gestured to the beach. “I—I need to tell you something.”
How could he say no to that?
With a quick glance at Maggie—the little dragon was fast asleep by the fire, a particularly shiny mussel shell tucked between her front claws—he rose and followed Carol outside.
They were both a bit worse for wear. The constant sea wind brought with it a steady layer of salty air to cling to skin and hair. The clear days meant a burning sun, and sleeping on the ground brought its fair share of lumps and bumps.
But he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Carol outlined by the faint glow of their campfire, with the ocean behind her.
It was almost an instinct, now, to check the kraken every time he thought something like that. It was still there, deep in thefarthest corners of his soul. Still keeping to their bargain. It would stay out of the way until Carol was safely home.
There had to be a catch.
Shaking off a shiver of unease, Moss walked over to Carol. “What do you want to talk about?”
“It’s… complicated.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Her lips pressed together, her eyes averted—shit. Shifting hadn’t moved her shark’s eyes and teeth. And he must have been less subtle than he thought when he noticed the fact earlier.
Subtle? Since when has anything you’ve done been subtle?He could practically hear Ataahua’s snort of disbelief. And Pania, gentler but no less painfully accurate in her judgement.
They thought he was already gone beneath the waves. Maybe when he returned Carol to her people, there would be a chance to find his cousins and talk to them one more time.
Or maybe that was what the kraken wanted him to think. That he could push his luck holding his end of the bargain—and when he broke it, by not going to the kraken’s lair the moment Carol was safe, the kraken would be free to straight up murder everyone in its path.
Cold plucked at his spine.
Yeah. Not worth the risk.
He looked down at Carol’s pinched expression. Slowly, he put an arm around her.
She relaxed against him. A simple thing. But it filled his heart.
Deep inside him, cautiously, careful not to let its host feel any trace of its thoughts, something else felt the same way.
