Page 94 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

I shook my head. “It is not my place to name you.”

“Can a marka not have two dragons?”

“This one cannot. I am sorry.”

She accepted my answer with a slight nod, then watched as Persi stepped closer. “Hello, Fae Queen.” She bowed until the spikes of her chin were inches from the ground and stayed there.

Persi exhaled. “That’s not necessary.”

The blue one lifted her head slightly. “What would you have of me?”

My friend was shaking. She looked at me and grimaced. I shrugged my shoulders, no help at all. Finally, said, “I just wonder…if I touch you…what would happen?”

The dragon smiled with her eyes. “Try and see.”

Kitch stepped close but didn’t try to stop Persi. He was there, though, if something went wrong. He and Persi exchanged a look, then she reached up to touch the dragon on the side of her nose. Her hand never met resistance, but when her arm fell to her side, a sunny yellow mist, in the shape of her hand and arm, touched the dragon as if both of them were real.

We all held our breath.

A long moment later, the yellow mist disintegrated, and the dragon bowed again. “I have been honored by the Fae Queen.”

Kitch put his hands on Persi’s waist as she stumbled back, her attention shifting between her hand and the dragon. She seemed more in awe of the yellow mist than the ghostly creature and had no attention left for her footing. But Kitch had her. He would always have her.

Just like Griffon had me.

Alexander shouted, “Da! Have a go!” His brothers went nuts at the idea, and none of us were surprised when Wickham reluctantly agreed to try. If he hadn’t, he would never have heard the end of it. Obviously, Ivy had no say in the matter.

The next stone was the one with the orange cast. Its holes matched Hanks and I hesitated. If the Hank’s stones mimicked the Pleiades, and they representedhome, then the DeNoy who lost this must belong, somehow, to the same place I did.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, and put thecloch realtain my palm. Without gold to hold it together, the rock cracked before shattering. The sand flooded my hand with colors—orange, blue, and hot pink. The dragon that appeared had the same shade of blue as Kivi in spirit form, with a dark pink neck. If solid, her colors would have been brilliant.

It first bowed to Kivi, then to me.

“Who will have me?” she asked, like she was inviting bids. The voice was musical, like a bird’s. A female who knew how pretty she was.

Wickham stared for a few seconds, then stomped forward. “I would.”

The dragon laughed as she bowed. “Seanathair,you flatter me. But you are no marka.”

I was relieved he had no reason to reach out because now that I knew I was DeNoy, and that I had a dragon at my disposal, I preferred not to see that white mist reaching for me again. Even when we’d greeted each other, I’d reached out my hand to keep him from hugging me, just in case.

“And you, Marka?” When I declined, the dragon cocked her head. “But we shall meet again.” I waved instead of replying. She spread her wings and showed off her pink webbing, then left the ground with a gentle hop, as if it took no effort at all.

The fifth dragon’s reaction was much the same as the first. A single invitation to touch her, then a nod and she was gone. Three holes. Yellow with a white underbelly. No insult taken.

By the time only one stone remained in the box, I was emotionally spent. Not only had I weathered a stormy day of my own, I’d felt each and every one of Kivi’s emotions as well. She’d been pleased with Griffon for collecting thecloch realtas, eager to set them free, but worried what they might ultimately do. And she was still nervous.

Just one more, I told her.One more and it will all be over.

Yes, over.She was sad about it, which surprised me. But I realized she wouldn’t be seeing her own kind again anytime soon.

* * *

The sixth andfinal stone was shiny black, an onyx so large it had to be tilted on its side to fit into the box. Nine holes--a shinier version of Hank. As I reached for it, Griffon leaned down for a quick kiss. “For luck.”

The onyx was cold against my fingers, but then again, it had been waiting for a long time, just like my friends, who were stomping their feet to keep their toes from freezing. Their faces were eager, though. And no one complained.

The onyx held its form while I transferred it to my palm. For a good ten seconds I waited, wondering if this one was so broken my touch meant nothing. But eventually, it shivered, then rocked, then exploded into beads which dissolved into sand.

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