“Is everything okay?” I call again.
More silence.
I make myself count to ten. Maybe he’s just far from the entryway.
I don’t believe it.
“If you don’t answer me, I’m going to assume you’re hurt and I’m breaking the doors,” I try one last time.
No answer, and this time I don’t wait.
I whirl into a kata, forming an aura of magenta around one fist, and then Ipunchthrough the center of the doors where the bar on the other side would be.
Wood splinters.
I ram the doors open and run inside.
There, in the atrium, is Zan.
In dragon form.
Not moving.
Oh no.
I race to him. Hesitate. Pat his head.
No response.
Panic filling me, I stare at him for I don’t know how long—a minute? Five?
And then I see his chest rise and fall.
A breath whooshes out of me.
He’s not dead.
But heishibernating.
Gods damn it, Iknewhis magic felt too low! But he told me he was fine and not to worry about it, and I trusted him; meanwhile he kept spending his magic without a thought for himself—on protecting me, on comforting me—
I bang my fists on his back and scream.
I’m going to fuckingbeatsense into him.
But for that I need to wake him up.
This isn’t a time for deep breaths.
Dragons transform and go into hibernation when they’re critically low on energy.
I know how to make exactly one food.
It’s time to makeallthe ice cream.
Mywrathsustainsme,and I use it to hold my panic at bay.
My arms may fall off, but that’s a tomorrow problem.
