Page 245 of Fallen Nocturne

“She said Sanguisyl is ugly?” Finnbheara looks genuinely shocked.

“Hideous,” Svenn says without missing a beat.

Finnbheara struggles for words. “I had no idea. The way they looked at each other during the battle, I was certain—”

“You were wrong,” Svenn says firmly. “Coral has made her feelings very clear. She’s perfectly happy here with us.”

Finnbheara looks at me, seeking truth.

I should tell him.

“She’s happy,” I say instead. It’s not a lie. Coral is happy. “We want her to stay happy and to feel safe.”

“I understand,” Finnbheara says, sounding disappointed. “I would never force anything. If Coral doesn’t want to see Sanguisyl, then I’ll respect that.”

He takes a breath and stands, diplomatic again.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” he says stiffly. “I didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable. The peace treaties are signed. That’s what matters. I’ll take my leave now.”

Finnbheara leaves the room and crosses the courtyard toward the waiting wyverns. The two fae mount their companions while Sanguisyl lowers himself for his rider.

Coral watches them through the window. She stops nudging Svenn for food and takes several quick steps toward the open doors to peek.

My heart clenches. I want her to stay, but I do not want fear to decide for her.

Finnbheara is already halfway to Sanguisyl when I hurry after him across the courtyard.

“King Finnbheara,” I call.

He turns back. Svenn follows me out and folds his arms, but he does not stop me.

“Perhaps Coral could see Sanguisyl,” I say quietly. “But from a distance.”

Finnbheara’s expression brightens. “Of course.”

We lead Coral out into the open courtyard. Sanguisyl waits with the two smaller wyverns belonging to Finnbheara’s retinue. The moment he sees Coral, the ancient red wyvern lifts his head and begins to approach.

“Stay,” Finnbheara commands.

Sanguisyl stops at once. His claws scrape against the stone, but he remains where he is.

Coral tilts her head and studies him. The little wyvern notices a stick near the edge of the courtyard. She trots over, picks it up in her mouth, and presses one end against the stone. With a quick twist of her head, she strikes it across the ground, and a small flame blooms at its tip like a struck match.

She drops the burning stick between them and looks at Sanguisyl expectantly.

“What does that mean?” Finnbheara asks.

“Do not come closer,” Svenn translates. “This is my territory.”

That is not what she said.

Coral is just showing off. She looks between Svenn and me. Her clawed foot moves to tap the signs Lady Siofra taught her.

Friends?

I nod. “Yes. They are friends.”

Svenn signs something else before I can stop him. But they are chicken rivals.