Some would say, if they still could, that my gifts are far more terrifying.
In a very basic way, Ember’s dreams are not so different from my gifts. She wants to tell stories, to touch someone with words.
When I write, however, the worlds respond.
Carefully selecting a bone quill and the appropriate pot of ink, I sit and begin writing a very special story, for a very, very special young man.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ihave faced warlords. Survived assassination attempts. Almost lost my life. Lost thelove of my life.Braved the Wound and lived to tell the tale.
Nothing,nothing,prepared me for this.
Casie is at work and I’m enjoying a day off. Calida is perched on the back of the couch, utterly transfixed. Her tail is flicking rhythmically to the beat as a golden-clad woman dances across the television screen, glittering under animpossible number of lights. The crowd is screaming — actually screaming — and Calida keeps throwing her head back androaringin response. I threw a sound shield around the apartment after the first one made me jump. I was not prepared.
The singer is — Ash told me this — Taylor Swift. And this is the “Eras Tour,” which, by my best guess, is some kind of magickal ritual where one woman shapeshifts through a series of very sparkly emotional phases. And apparently millions are compelled to worship her.
I’ve gotta respect it.
Calida, however, has gone beyond respect. She isbesotted.
‘Look at her!’Calida squeals, wings fluttering with glee as Taylor struts out in yet another glittering outfit. ‘She’s like a queen and a bard and a warlock. All in one! Ohmygods — Bejeweled is coming up!‘Pause. ‘I’m gonna shimmy!!!!!!!’
Gods help us all.
Calida turns to me with deadly seriousness in her molten-silver eyes.
‘Flint.’
I brace and don’t even fucking know why.
Isn’t there a villain I can fight? They’re less scary.
“Yes?”
‘We need to make friendship bracelets.’
I blink.
And again.
“Friendshipwhat?”
‘BRACELETS! Like they wear at the Eras Tour! It’s a rite of bonding, clearly. Taylor says they make friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it. That’s… like a prophecy!’
I open my mouth to respond, maybe to ask what, exactly, a Taylor prophecy entails, but Calida bops intothe air and flutters in front of me, nose-to-nose. Her expression is unyielding.
‘I want to make one for you. And Casie. And me. Oooooh, and Betsy. And then we wear them forever. Or until they fall off or get melted in battle or something. It’s the LAW.’
I sigh. Dramatically. “Fine. Where do I get these sacred ingredients?”
If you had asked me, at any point in my life, if I ever expected to be using a cell phone to help a young dragon find a store that sells craft supplies, I would have heartily said no.
I have seen battlefields littered with chaos, with the bodies of those I knew in life.
None had ever been quite like this.
I am a warrior. I keep repeating it in my mind, like a mantra. It doesn't help.
