I was being highly sarcastic, but A.D.’s expression shifted to pure relief. “Yes, that is exactly what you should say, and you can use the name Orpheus.”
Wait, there was another name? My mouth opened to ask way more questions.
“Before we go, we have a gift for you,” A.D. said before I could get them out.
Then, he pulled an object out of his leather bag that made me forget all about his weird split personality issue.
“Oh, wow…” My entire chest lit with hope. “Is that what I think it is?”
Is This Really My Fated Mate?
I staredat the gift in A.D.’s hands, mouth gaping open. Then up at him.
Tears welled in my eyes. “You got me a journal?”
At least, I thought it was a journal. The cover was made of overlapping scales the same shimmering white as the ones on his dragon form’s underbelly. They were appliquéd onto what I guessed to be a thin sheet of pale wood and bound with delicate wire. Not quite gold, a bronze alloy, maybe? The wire was the same color as its clasp, which was fused and seamless, like all the other god tech metals I’d seen so far.
The journal looked like it should be featured in the artwork for an epic holo—the kind that started with the opening of an enchanted book. It had an unbelievably precious quality to it. Something I’d admire in a store window but never go in to look at, knowing it would be ungodly expensive and too fine to carry my messy thoughts.
And now, A.D. was holding it out to me like he was the clerk in that store.
“Can I open it?”
“Of course you may,” he answered. “It is yours to do with as you please.”
As I pleased.
Wishing I had gloves, I lifted the scaled cover like a rare books librarian.
The pages inside were a soft vellum, carrying a faint musk of mega-deer. Hided and cured with smoke into thin sheets for this journal.
Tucked into the spine was a stylus. It was made of carved bone but glowed green at the tip. My hand hovered over it.
“Do not hesitate to take it, Dorcas. It is yours.” Aengus encouraged me with a smile. A real one this time that lit up his face. As if he was just as excited as me about this gift.
I pulled out the stylus, pointed it at the page, and tentatively pressed down on its grooved top.
I expected a metal tip to appear. Instead, a green light emerged.
“Press the pen into the page to write,” Aengus advised. “Then your words will appear.”
Hello,I wrote on the first page.
To my delight, a thin green version of the word appeared, glowed briefly, then settled into something permanently dark.
I looked up at him, delighted.
“We are very happy with the outcome of this effort,” he continued, “as we do not use such utensils in our culture. But be careful with it. Another click turns it into a metal engraving tool, and the third click allows you to make fire, since your kind does not have the ability to do so with your weak breath.”
I was too overjoyed to be insulted by him calling me weak. “You did this? You made this? For me?”
I looked up to find him once again watching my face with that unreadable intensity.
“We assumed,” A.D. answered carefully, “that you would like to record your thoughts of falling through the portal into our arms.”
He assumed right!
I could have hugged him. But I was too busy snatching the gift right out of his hands and gathering it to my chest like treasure.
