Page 13 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
“Oh…” Her disappointment was the most bitter thing I had ever tasted, though it was difficult to ascertain just what had caused it:
The fact that dragon mouths weren’t made for handling Common.
Or the fact that I clearly hadn’t told my parents about her.
Regardless, the moment it washed over me, I scoured my mind for a way to make her smile again. “But I can always study Mind magic for next time,” I hastily reassured her.
Inwardly, I groaned. Mind magic was the second most difficult to master, right after Spirit. But Auntie Velda would be pleased by my sudden interest in the subject.
Mind was her specialty.
“That way,” I explained, “I could speak directly into your thoughts while we flew together.”
“Mind magic?” Aurelia echoed. Delight and wonder immediately returned to her features, sealing my fate. There was no way I couldn’t learn Mind magic now. “How many types of magic are there?”
I blinked away my initial confusion. “There are six elements with which we can weave: Earth, Water, Air, Fire, Mind, and Spirit. Then there is a seventh—Aether—but we do not weavewith that. The Great Weaver gifted them to us all when He made the world.”
To my eyes, it was easy enough to see the barely-there threads of magic shimmering all around us within the dark forest—green for Earth, blue for Water, gold for Spirit, purple for Air, red for Fire, and silver for Mind. Aether had no color. One did not see it; they simply knew it was there. Sometimes it even whispered the Great Weaver’s wisdom to those who believed in Him.
It surprised me to learn Aurelia couldn’t see the others, though. Shewasa Jewel, after all.
But perhaps she would only see them when she came into her power at eighteen.
“We don’t believe in your Great Weaver,” she quietly—almost apologetically—informed me. “Only the Three-Faced God.”
“I know.” Humans often had strange notions about very obvious truths. “But that doesn’t make what I just said any less true.”
Eyebrows raising, she asked out of nowhere, “Is there no dark magic, then?”
I recoiled from the very idea. “Absolutely not. All that the Great Weaver makes is good.”
There was the Shade, of course, but that wasn’tmagic. It was just the potential for darkness that existed in the hearts of all sentient beings—humans, dragons, or fae.
Shrugging the matter off, I promised, “I’ll tell you all about it in my next letter: the Great Weaver, magic, all of it. And then next year, when I return for another birthday flight, I’ll be able to tell you anything you like, even when I’m in dragon form.”
I shot a look toward the sky and resisted the urge to bounce my leg. “But right now, we really should be going.”
Oddly, Aurelia’s face fell yet again. “My next birthday?” She tugged my cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Could you not come sooner? I’m afraid I won’t be here on our next birthday.”
My heart lurched. Not here? Where could she possibly be going?
As if hearing my thoughts, she lowered her gaze to the forest floor and softly explained, “Mother is sending me away to finishing school next year. So, I suppose I won’t be able to write to you, either. I don’t imagine there’s a fairy circle on the grounds.”
“Finishing school?” We didn’t have such things in Drakara, but I knew enough about human culture to be offended on her behalf. Stiffly, I pointed out, “But there is nothing at all wrong with your manners, Miss Weaver.”
The smile that ghosted across her lips was a sad, little thing. “Aurelia, please,” she whispered before lifting her gaze back to mine. “Mother hopes I might become finished enough to attract a good husband one day.”
I nearly choked. “But we’re only fourteen. Why is she worried about thatnow?”
Aurelia’s hands balled into fists. Her chin lifted. “Because not all of us are royalty, Bene,” she scolded me. “Some of us are mere… merecommonerswho can only hope for a better life. Mother just wants what’s best for me.”
I wanted to protest, to tell her she was wrong, that she wasn’t amereanything.
But I couldn’t.
It wasn’t fair, but Aurelia could never know what she was. Not so long as my uncle’s curse still darkened our shared future.
But curses were meant to be broken.
