Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(91)

She focused on her life force, directing a small amount of quintessence to darken her lips a shade and add some color to her cheeks. The black dress just begged for a black stripe in her hair. She missed her tricolored locks. The dark golden blond her grandmother had suggested with the single inch-thick red stripe was pretty. She focused on a quarter-inch-wide section next to the red stripe and changed it to black. There. That looked good, and it wasn’t too obnoxious. Hopefully her grandmother would approve.

Where would her grandmother be? Rather than hunting through the house, she picked up the phone and asked Rindy. Armed with the information on her grandmother’s whereabouts, she headed for the atrium on the second floor.

Her grandparents sat on opposite sides of one of the square white wrought iron tables in center of the atrium, which was decorated with so many of her grandmother’s plants it looked like an indoor garden.

The heels of her boots clicked on the marble floor as she approached, causing both her grandparents to look up.

Her grandmother gave a nod of approval. “I knew that outfit would be perfect for you.”

A small glow of pride filled Bryn’s chest. Approval from her grandmother meant a lot. “Thank you for the clothes. I love this dress. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever worn.”

“Of course it’s soft, it’s cashmere.” Her grandmother grinned. “One of the reasons I love winter is you can wear cashmere as often as you want.”

Bryn took a seat on an empty side of the square table. “I was never a sweater person, but this may change my mind.” She picked up a white china pot that sat in the center of the table and poured herself what she thought was a cup of coffee. The brown liquid that came out was too light in color.

“What is this?”

“It’s tea,” her grandfather stated in an annoyed tone.

“Why is it tea?” She meant it as a joke, sort of. Tea was good, but it lacked the amount of caffeine she craved first thing in the morning.

Her grandfather folded his paper in half and laid it beside his plate. “You don’t like tea?”

“I do.” And apparently she needed to this morning, because her grandfather wasn’t a happy camper. “I normally have coffee at breakfast and tea later in the day, that’s all. No big deal.” She could just drink twice as much tea to make up for the caffeine.

Abigail appeared by Bryn’s shoulder and set a plate of pancakes on her place mat. “Thank you. These look wonderful.” The maple syrup scent had her stomach rumbling. She grabbed a fork and dug in. The pancakes were maple syrup, butter-coated carbohydrate joy.

Focused on inhaling her pancakes, it took a moment for her to realize that neither of her grandparents was speaking. She stopped midchew and noticed the expectant look on both their faces. She swallowed and wiped her mouth just in case she had maple syrup dribbling down her chin.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“I asked why you felt the need to add another color to your hair?” her grandfather said.

This was about her hair? What was the big deal? “It matches my dress.” No need to go into the story of how Clint and Ivy had first approached her due to her striped hair, which resembled something a Black dragon might do. It had provided her with something in common with their Clan. She didn’t want to give that up completely for fear her friends would think she’d forgotten them or moved on.

“So if your dress were purple, you’d have a purple streak?” her grandfather snapped.

It was almost like he was trying to pick a fight. Bryn caught her grandmother’s gaze and saw the slight shake of her head. Was this a test?

“When I first came to school, I added black stripes to my blond-and-red-striped hair because I liked the way it looked. Now it doesn’t look right without a little bit of black.” Maybe he’d buy that answer and leave her alone.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t experiment with your coloring any more. Unlike your Black dragon friends, it’s not something Blue dragons do. We’re proud of who we are. Changing your appearance signals you might not feel the same way.”

Wow. What was his problem? She could see by the lines around her grandmother’s mouth that she was worried this conversation was about to turn ugly.

Sitting back in her chair, Bryn crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure what you’re fishing for. Are you asking if I’m proud of my heritage? Are you testing me to see if you can start a fight? Are you pissed off because of what happened last night? Give me a clue and we can head in the right direction.”

Her grandmother turned away, looking like she was trying not to say something, or maybe trying not to laugh. At this point it was anyone’s guess.

Narrowing his eyes, her grandfather said, “You want the direct approach, fine. I don’t like the black stripe in your hair. The red stripe is bad enough, but I’m willing to tolerate it. The black stripe must go.”

Taking orders had never been her strong suit. “I don’t suppose you’d consider asking nicely?”

He leaned forward in a menacing manner. “This is my version of asking nicely.”

Laughter was the only way to save face. So she laughed and was relieved when he joined in. Then she closed her eyes, focused her Quintessence and changed the black stripe in her hair back to golden blond. “There, does that meet with your approval?”