“I have no idea what any of this means, but since my family name is so prominent in the papers, I must insist on my sisters being looped in. Well, my aunt too. You would probably not be able to keep it a secret from her anyway.” Deryn winced a little and caught an approving nod from the Headmistress.
“Of course. I do apologize for the hit-and-run, so to speak, but I just received these, and as I said, with no confirmation for the moment, I am being extra cautious. But, Ms. Allende, I had to bring these to you before you go out there in a few minutes and debate this man.”
Paloma nodded as well. Then took one last look at herself in the mirror.
“Thank you, Headmistress. I think we should convene tonight at the resort and discuss. Deryn will make sure her family is present. We are missing Rhiannon and Prudence, but we will include them once they are back on the island.”
Nox nodded and exited the dressing room, leaving Deryn and Paloma alone.
“Ah… Did what I think just happened, really happened?” Deryn sat down heavily, her head spinning.
Paloma touched her temple, then handed her a glass of water from the pitcher.
“I wish I knew. Are you familiar with the Rathcross Foundation?”
Deryn shook her head, the room spinning faster for some reason just at the sound of those words. Of the name. She felt nauseous.
“They’re massive political donors. Not the ones you want donating to your causes. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I do. Why would an organization like that have anything to do with Dragons, Crow’s Nest, or, you know, the Crowharts?”
Paloma’s fingers played in her hair. Deryn was almost certain that she was so deep in thought that she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing, but the feeling was so overwhelmingly sweet that Deryn could feel it in her back teeth, the peace of it, the comfort of it, the cooling touch. She sat very still, desperate to have the movement continue, to make the feeling last.
She was so gone over this woman. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t tragic. And while she had known from the start that Paloma had been…well, had been something…something, someone important, really…it was sobering to realize that she was actually everything.
In the face of this new danger, Deryn tried to hold on to the moment, to the emotion of it, to the touch of Paloma’s fingertips in her hair.
You… You… Just you…
Paloma gave Deryn’s hair one last tug before cracking her knuckles.
“We need to study those documents closely. I only read a few pages. Seems to be a very intricate scheme, but also one that goes back centuries, all the way to?—”
“Gwendolyn Crowhart,” murmured Deryn.
“Yes.” Paloma’s voice was quiet, matching Deryn’s tone for tone.
“And now you’re involved.” Deryn looked up into an open face, wide eyes, honest and warm in the rays of sunshine beaming in through the half-closed blinds.
“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you want to ask me. And I have a feeling I was always involved.”
Deryn gulped, the lump in her throat growing to the size of a baseball.
Could it be? Could it be that I am not the only one in this?
Paloma said nothing else as she moved to the door. When her hand was on the doorknob, she turned back, and Deryn felt her gaze like a fist to the sternum.
“There’s right, and there’s wrong, Deryn. There are times when everything is murky, but then there is now. Nothing about now is in doubt.”
Deryn bit her lip and just listened as Paloma sent her one last glance.
The Q&Awas deceptively simple and moving along fast. Judge Astor had been chosen to moderate, with questions submitted by the residents via a collection box posted in the town hall for weeks before the debate. People wanted to know everything: basic things, like the candidates’ education—Yale and Harvard for Paloma and Crow’s Nest High for Moss—and specific things, like their plans for the renovation of the pier. “The revision of the spending of the fisherman’s permit fees and an application to the State Department of Fish and Wildlife grant system, a grant for which Crow’s Nest qualifies implicitly, should be considered to be the main sources of renovation,” said Paloma, compared with, “Well, the taxes are too high and we need to lower them and figure out the pier after that,” from Moss.
Judge Astor was careful not to give preference to either candidate, but Deryn, standing in the wings, watching the two podiums and the two people behind them, couldn’t comprehend how the applause for Moss was as loud as it occasionally got.
He was as dumb as a bag of hammers. Deryn really had no other way of characterizing him. He was vague, he was silly, and completely dismissive of most of the issues thrown at him. He made a joke of the concerns he was asked about—the difficult expansion of the town’s elementary school, the nursing home’s need for new nurses, and the lack of service industry workers on the island.
“Haha, well, we just need more women to move to Dragons. Am I right, fellas?”
