A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(22)

“He doesn’t mean that,” I told the King. “He respects us. Maybe even loves us a little.”

Justin glared at me.

“Begrudgingly,” I amended.

The glare lessened. Slightly. Probably not at all. “Why do I have a feeling that this little incident involved you somehow?”

“Because you leap to conclusions based upon past experiences which have no basis on our current situation?” I asked, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Uh-huh,” Justin said. “Knight Commander, report.”

“There was a woman,” Ryan said. “She… attacked Sam.”

“And there it is,” Justin said.

“Attacked,” Morgan said. “Attacked how?”

“Actually—” Mom said.

“I wasn’t attacked,” I said. “She was just… forceful in her conviction that she should be pressing me up against a wall.”

“She had her hand around your throat,” Ryan snapped. “And she spoke to you. She said that you couldn’t touch her. And then she disappeared and you collapsed.”

“Is that true?” the King asked, taking a step toward me. “Are you all right?”

“Maybe we should—” Dad said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Except for all the parts where he made it sound like I sucked. I had her. If she hadn’t done her little disappearing trick, everything would have been fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan said. “What about the part where you thought you were in the Dark Woods with a white dragon?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” I admitted, though it pained me to do so. “But I will. I just need to think about it. So thank you for spilling the beans like that. You jerk.”

Ryan shook his head. “You didn’t see it, okay? One minute she was there and the next she was gone and you just collapsed. I thought she’d—” His jaw tensed as he swallowed thickly. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

Godsdammit. Leave it to Knight Delicious Face to get sentimental while I was trying to get fired up. Any argument that I had left as quickly as it’d come.

“I think we might know—” Mom said.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Ryan. “I didn’t… I just…. Dammit. I’m sorry, okay?”

He nodded but wouldn’t look at me.

“What they talkin’ ’bout?” Tiggy asked Gary.

“Their feelings,” Gary said, sounding teary-eyed. “Their awful and wonderful feelings. Stupid, stupid boys. Hug me, Tiggy, and never let me go.”

Tiggy did just that.

“Stupid is right,” Justin muttered. “Gods, this is painful. Glad I got out of that while I still could.”

“Did she hurt you?” the King asked, checking me up and down.

I pushed his hands away. “I’m fine. It was just… look. I don’t know what she wanted or who she is, but we’ll find her, okay? Anything else we can deal with after we know where she is.”

The King didn’t look appeased by this.

There was one person who’d been remarkably silent, especially since I should have heard a be quiet, Sam by now. I turned to Morgan, ready to be scolded for actively derailing the conversation yet again. Anything I was about to say died in my mouth as Morgan stood with his eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths. His hands were fists at his sides, and he looked paler than I’d ever seen him before. I frowned as I took a step toward him. “Morgan?”

He opened his eyes, and there was something there, something I couldn’t quite make out. It looked painful, whatever it was, like the thoughts in his head were physically hurting him. It was gone before I could nail it down. But his words were hushed when he spoke. “What did she say to you?”

The room fell quiet.

This wasn’t my friend speaking. This was Morgan of Shadows, my mentor.

I thought on it, wanting to get as close as possible. “Sneaking with your sneaks. Dilo. And here of all places. Like your dook could touch me, chava. She said that we weren’t what she expected, and that it was a good thing. And that she was sorry for what was to come.”

He surprised me then, by turning toward my parents. “Is it she?”

My mother’s shoulders sagged as my father wrapped an arm around her. “It would seem so.”

“We didn’t know,” Dad said. “She hasn’t… contacted us. Not since….”

“Uh, guys?”

They all turned to look at me.

“What are you talking about?”

My mother sighed. “Dilo means fool. Dook is magic. Chava means boy. It’s from the old tongue.”

“Gypsies,” I breathed. “You—you know who it is?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, like she couldn’t find the words. She glanced at my father, who gave her a resigned nod. She looked back at me and said, “Vadoma Tshilaba. Mamia.”

A memory then. From the day in the alley so very long ago:

And you, dearie? Surely you haven’t always been Rosemary Haversford.

It is a name I adopted when I chose to leave the clan and marry my love. I was born Dika Tshilaba.

Ah. I see. Your mamia was Vadoma, then.