If anything, it wasbecauseshe cared about him that she wasn’t going to stand in his way. Dax was destined for greatness, and she wasn’t going to be the one to yank him off that path. She didn’t have the right to do that—it was his life.
As Marin climbed up the path, she saw the great beast sprawled on her perch. Her eyes were half-closed, and her tongue poked out between her teeth. She reminded Marin of a very contented wingedcat, the kind who’d just devoured a fish feast at the End-of-Harvest Festival.
She returned to worrying about whether the dragon would want to keep Dax. Surot had just said that dragons could collect people—Nessa had done so. What if, despite Marin’s little speech when this began, this dragon wanted the musician as well as the music? Marin had been very clear, but did a queen dragon care what a lowly sailor said?
Marin knew firsthand how difficult it could be to leave someone who didn’t want to let go, who wouldn’t respect what you wanted, who didn’t care about anything but what they wanted…
She forced herself to take a deep breath.
Maybe Keva won’t be like that at all.She wondered how long Iovar was going to poison the way she saw everyone and every situation. Softly, Marin called, “Dax, we’re ready to sail whenever you are.”
Meeting her eyes, he nodded, but he didn’t stop singing.
She sat on a nearby rock and listened.
There was a story in the song, even though it was wordless. She could hear a journey in his voice, the way the melody traveled. It reminded her of the sea, with the shimmering horizon in the distance. Closing her eyes, she listened as the waves rose around the traveler. He was singing of the storm, of the fear and the chaos, and then the quiet and the peace. She thought of the marmoose, the warmth and the softness and the kindness of that rare creature. It was all there, inside the melody, or maybe it wasn’t and that was just what she brought to it? She couldn’t tell, and she guessed it didn’t matter. She wondered what journey it made the dragon think of, if it conjured up memories for her. Maybe the dragon thought the song was about flying, not sailing, and maybe that was just as true.
He ended on a note that he held until it faded away with the last of his breath.
Marin sat in silence, unwilling to break the moment.
And then Dax stood and bowed to the dragon. “Thank you forlistening to me, Great One. I won’t forget this, or you. If I ever sail this way again, I’ll visit.”
Keva opened her eyes.
Marin held her breath.
And the dragon closed her eyes, sighed, and let him go.
As if something momentous hadn’t just happened, Dax picked up his guitar and the bag that had held his lunch and started down the mountainside. Marin felt her rib cage loosen, and she could take a full breath again. Her heart was still racing. She hadn’t realized how much of her believed he wasn’t going to come, or be allowed to come.I’m not ready to lose him. Not to a dragon. Not to the conservatory.That was a terrible realization, given the inevitable end to their story, and exactly what she’d tried so hard to avoid. She had literally just sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to stand in his way.It’s not about what I want,she reminded herself.It’s about what’s best for him.
She was going to keep telling herself that until she believed it.
“I was singing about our journey,” Dax said.
“I know,” Marin said. She glanced over her shoulder, up at the reclining dragon, wondering if Keva was going to change her mind. Perhaps the dragon hadn’t realized yet that this was goodbye and the music, at least the music made by Dax, was leaving her life. Keva would, of course, have plenty of other music provided for her by the village of dragon-tenders, but none were world-class composers who’d been child prodigies.
Dax seemed delighted. “You could tell? I’d hoped that the key shift would indicate the swelling waves, the change from the peaceful sea to the dangerous one. You know, along with the tempo change—I’d thought about adding lyrics…”
“It doesn’t need them,” Marin said. “The sea is larger than words.”
“Yes! Yes, exactly that. How do you do that? Understand so perfectly.”
He continued to chatter about his musical choices as they made their way down the mountain. In the distance, the sun was sinking lower in the sky, and she saw Perri out in the waves, glittering withreflected gold. Seagulls were circling about him. She wanted to be out on that water, sailing again. It felt as if the waves were pulling her, her blood a part of its current.
She interrupted him. “How quickly can you be ready to sail? Can we go at dawn?”
He cut off his musings on what kind of percussion to add to the melody he’d created and said, “How about now? Can we navigate by the stars?”
She was startled. He’d seemed so content singing for the dragon and in the Silver Dragon Inn that Marin hadn’t thought he’d want to leave as quickly as she did. “We could. Yes, of course. If you’re ready.” She’d worried she’d have to persuade him to leave his adoring audience.
Dax sang one of Ree’s songs.“The sea calls, and we must sail—beyond the horizon, into the bluuue!”He then added, “Besides, we have to find Rijes Velk and then get that heartsinger ruby to your parents as soon as possible. We’ve lost too much time as it is.”
It was kind of him to think of her parents when he had a deadline too. “We also have to get you back for your opus at the winter solstice.” It hurt to say the words, like a paring knife carving away at her heart.
He didn’t respond to that. Pausing, he skirted around a boulder in the path. They were nearly at the village. Marin could smell the heavy scent of dinner wafting from the houses and the tavern—the scents of seasoned mutton and tubers, fresh-baked bread, and caramelized fruits.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Dax said. “It’ll be a long sail, right? We’ll need to stop for supplies along the way. But we’re short on money because we haven’t taken any jobs.”
