Dragon Heartstring(3)

To be honest, I still felt uncomfortable around Morgons. In business, I recognized that my anxiety level heightened in meetings when Cade Enterprises was negotiating with various Morgon-owned companies for distribution or exports. I kept these meetings direct and short. Cade Enterprises hadn’t yet hired a Morgon on staff, and my father would never approve the notion.

“It’s okay,” said Shakara with a shake of the head, though I noticed her lean away to be sure and avoid contact.

I clasped my hands in front of me to give her space. “So, you work at a clinic?”

“Yes. I run the clinic on Sable Street.”

I paused, knowing exactly which clinic that was. “In the Warwick District?”

“Yes. You know of it?”

“I do,” I said, glancing her way with curiosity.

The Feygreir Healers Clinic on Sable Street was the first one opened on street level. Most Morgons kept their clinics in high towers.

“Go on,” she said. “Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Don’t be coy, Demetrius.”

I straightened and tucked my hands in my pants pockets. “All right then. Why did you decide to place your Morgon clinic on the street-level?”

“I thought that was rather obvious. I treat humans as well as Morgons.”

Her answer was surprising and more direct than I expected. She looked at me, then laughed. “Have I shocked you?”

“No. I mean, yes.” I shook my head, rarely addled by anyone. “I just thought, or actually I didn’t think…” I was never at a loss for words, but I couldn’t seem to find the polite response.

“You didn’t think Icewings would want to treat humans with our healing gifts.”

Her wings drew my attention once more—delicate yet strong—much like the woman standing next to me.

“Quite frankly, no, I didn’t.”

She smiled and returned to watching the children, but I couldn’t stop looking at her.

“It was your sister who gave me the idea.”

“Really?”

She gave a little nod. “I was the Icewing who healed her wound.”

“You?” My pulse pounded faster. She was the one who had saved Jessen that horrific day. “I never found out who it was.”

“It was a serious injury, but Jessen is a strong woman.”

“Yes, she is.”

At that moment, Jessen carried out the cake and set it on a center table.

Shakara continued. “Afterwards, I realized something.”

“What was that?”

She angled her body to face me. I did the same since an intensity in her expression seemed to require my attention.

“Our gifts weren’t meant only for Morgonkind. That all people, humans as well as Morgons, should be given the same opportunity for treatment and care. To be honest, I felt rather selfish keeping it to our own kind.”

For a moment, I was struck utterly dumb, transfixed by sea-green eyes and the strength of will in this woman. A pause stretched between us. She didn’t fill it with small talk or try to flirt or giggle as so many women did in my company. Rather, she remained silent as if awaiting judgment for her lofty ideals. For wanting true equality among the species.

“You know,” I said cautiously. “I admire your candor and certainly your willingness to do some good, but I’m afraid you’ve set yourself up for disappointment.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“I think you give humans too much credit. They will not accept your help. The world isn’t quite ready for it.”

She laughed and turned a pitying look on me. “Oh, I hate to break this to you, but I already have human patients. Regulars, as a matter of fact.”

“Okay, Julian!” called Jessen over the murmur of the party-goers. “Time for your birthday cake.” She bent to light the three candles.

Shakara took a step toward the gathering crowd, then turned back to me. “The world is ready, Demetrius. The question is, are men like you?”

Completely baffled, I watched her go. She thought I was prejudiced, and that bothered me. Immensely. Sure. I’d had my hang-ups with Morgons in the past, but I’d come to accept our coexistence. Hadn’t I? The woman had me rethinking my own beliefs, all in the course of a five-minute conversation.

I followed after her to join the party. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. She was tall like most Morgon women. She moved with elegance. She’d tucked her white wings neatly against her back. I’d never taken much time to note a Morgon’s wings, but now I couldn’t help but examine the high arch that tapered down smoothly at her sides. A female’s wings were thinner and more fine-boned than that of Morgon males, though they still appeared strong enough to lift her slight frame. I suddenly wanted to see her fly.



*

I could feel his eyes on me as he trailed behind. The thought sent my stomach flipping end over end, and I wasn’t sure why. Demetrius hadn’t remembered me from the Unity Ball. Unfortunately, I remembered him all too well from that night when he barely spared me a cordial greeting. He was the aggressive, workaholic son of Pritchard Cade, rarely on the social scene and extremely overprotective of his sisters. I knew he never brought a date to charity and fundraising events, and he’d never had a Morgon woman on his arm. And I knew him for the aloof, arrogant business tycoon who shied away from mixed company with Morgons. Even still, the serious, controlled man made me stand a bit taller. I wanted his notice, even if it was to prove him wrong.