Adele sat at the main research table, surrounded by a fortress of open books and scattered papers. Her head rested on her folded arms, her breathing deep and even. Asleep after hours of relentless searching.
Fletcher lifted his head from where he’d been sleeping beside her chair, gave me a look that suggested I was late, then got up and plodded across the room.
I approached her, keeping my footsteps light. She’d pulled the volumes we’d gone through together and seemed to have focused on geological surveys, historical records, and agricultural reports. Notes covered pages of paper, her handwriting neat even as exhaustion set in.
I gathered the papers carefully, stacking them without disturbing their order. Then I lifted her into my arms, cradling her against my chest.
She stirred, mumbling.
“Shh,” I whispered. “Just taking you to bed, sweet.”
“Ice,” she said, her head lolling against my shoulder. “Sublimation. The peaks… Ice sublimation…”
Even in sleep, her brilliant mind was working on the problem.
I carried her through the silent corridors to our rooms, Fletcher padding along behind us. She didn’t wake as I laid her on the bed, removed her shoes, tunic, and pants, and pulled the blankets over her.
But her words echoed in my mind. Ice sublimation.
I went to the sitting room, grabbed paper, and wrotedown exactly what she’d said. I placed the note on her nightstand so she’d see it first thing in the morning.
Maybe it was nothing, but she may have forgotten what she was thinking about by morning.
I stripped down and slid into bed beside her. She immediately curled into me, seeking warmth, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.
“You’re going to solve this,” I whispered into her hair. “I know you will.”
She made a soft sound, settling deeper into my embrace.
I lay awake for a long time, holding my sleeping wife, thinking about ice sublimation and baby dragons and how much I’d come to care for this woman.
She’d crashed into my carefully ordered life like a thunderstorm, and I wouldn’t change a single moment of the uproar she’d brought with her.
Tomorrow, we’d save those babies and prevent a war. But tonight, I held her, grateful that she was mine.
Even if the future was uncertain and much too complicated.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ADELE
Iwoke with a headache that suggested I’d fallen asleep in the archives. Except I was lying in bed now. Our bed. Raoul’s and mine.
Which meant he’d carried me here. So sweet of him.
Fletcher’s wet nose pressed against my hand.Good morning. You work too hard, and I need breakfast.
“Give me a moment,” I mumbled, reaching for him. My fingers brushed paper instead of fur.
I blinked my eyes open fully. A note sat on my nightstand, in Raoul’s handwriting.
You said this in your sleep: Ice. Sublimation. The peaks… Ice sublimation…I wrote it down in case you forgot. —R
My heart lurched. Ice sublimation?
The memory rushed through me, a fragment from the archives, a passage I’d skimmed earlier while researching atmospheric phenomena for Brightmore.
I threw off the blankets, Fletcher yelping as I nearly stepped on him in my scramble for clothes.
