Page 8 of Accounting for Drakes

Mbrak laughed. “Well, you have four days to find and court her.”

“Wait, what’s her name again?”

“Abil. Abilathara Wekennick.”

“Wait. Wekennick.” Understanding was dawning in his gaze.

“Yes. He was on the way to become your adviser.”

“The mathematician.”

“Her first language.”

“We were told they were dead on impact.”

“A child doesn’t have much more of a life sign than a small predator does.”

Yorath looked ill. “They assured me there were no survivors. Wait. She was coming to my court.”

“Correct.”

“Why didn’t you send her on?”

“She is my blood. My life. My responsibility and my duty. They didn’t find her until she was ten, and she was in no shape to deal with society.”

“No one was looking for her.”

“Correct. I believe that as his employer, that was your job.”

Yorath looked ill again. “We were assured there was no point.”

“Right. Well, hindsight is always illuminating.”

Mbrak walked back toward the heart of the station. He left Yorath to his situation. His drake would sort it quickly. Anything for a mate.

* * * *

Abil smiled and didsomething that her cousins occasionally did for her. She booked a spa day and took a day off.

She never took one on her own.

Going to bed had been fun, and her mind felt settled when she got up.

She had her drake, and it was happy to be out with her at last.

The massage appointment would be first, so she headed to the spa and checked in. Her funds would cover it, and she warned the woman working on her that Mbrak might come by.

There was a grin, a nod, and then she got into it.

Abil sat and got a manicure after her pedicure. She had mint green nails with stars.

Mbrak showed up as the nails were being finished. “Hey, boss.”

“Grandfather.”

She looked at him. “Mr. Blue. Has his whatsitness left the station yet?”

“No. He has been looking for you.”

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