Page 33 of Rejected By Dragons

Freya's smile twitches, coming closer to reaching her eyes. "Welcome to Unity. I'm the...mayor, I suppose you could say."

"Four terms running," Amy adds. "She was just re-elected unanimously last month."

I blink hard. A democratically elected leader in a shifter town? Is that even possible?

Apparently so. Not skipping a beat, Freya continues, "Ours is a peaceful, neutral territory. If you're just passing through, we're happy to offer you supplies and rest. Or if you're looking for a place to stay, we welcome all of magic-kind with open arms."

Clearly. We've attracted a bit of a crowd, including a burly bunch who I'm pretty sure I recognize as the football players, now that they've all returned to human form.

"So long as you follow our rules," Jett hastens to add. "All violence is strictly forbidden. Even minor infractions--"

"Good grief," Amy interrupts again. This time, she nudges both Jett and Freya aside, approaching me directly. The fact that they allow her to speaks volumes. "You all can read her the riot act later. Can't you see she's been through something?"

She reaches out for me, more tentatively this time, merely putting a hand on my shoulder.

And it doesn't make any sense. That small touch shouldn't mean anything--not from a person I met literally three minutes ago. But there's a compassion and a kindness in her gaze, and I've been working so hard to hold it together for so long. I've been going and going and going, running from the Air Kingdom. I've been running from my feelings as well. Sure, I've indulged in my nightly crying jags, reliving Storm's rejection and mourning the loss of what's passed for my family and home for the past decade. But otherwise, I've been white-knuckling it, just trying to survive.

Suddenly, I see myself through these strangers' eyes. I'm a mess. I've been wearing the same clothes for days. I packed deodorant, but I still must smell like someone who's been living out of her car for a couple of weeks. My exhaustion feels like it's pouring out of my skin. It must be written all over my face. The sheer force of will I've been exerting to keep myself standing is suddenly threatening to fail on me.

"Amethyst..." Her mother warns.

Amy holds up a hand. "This girl needs a hot shower, a decent meal, and a good night's rest. Then you can give her your history and civics lessons. She won't kill me in the meantime." She looks to me. "Right?"

Drawing a fingertip through the air, I make a weak effort at re-creating the Fire Kingdom sigil for protection that I saw Jett making earlier. "No murder. Promise."

Freya's eyes widen in surprise at my hand gesture, and Jett tilts his head to the side.

Amy's not taken aback in the least. "That's settled, then. Come on. I'm taking you home with me."

Still, I hesitate. "My car." I shake my head. "All my stuff--"

"Carl will head out and look at it this afternoon," Jett promises.

An older gentleman with a white, bushy beard and more than a few missing teeth steps forward. He's barely five feet tall and dressed in greasy overalls, with a long, slender wand sticking out of one of the side pockets. He tips his cap, revealing a pointy ear. Part gnome then, probably, which makes sense given his general vibe as a magical tinkerer. "I'll have her fixed up in no time. Probably just overheated. That happens to a lot of vehicles just this side of the wards."

Carl winks, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Clearly, the wards are designed to make cars overheat and break down, giving the town's guardians a chance to assess the newcomers' intentions.

"I'll drive it into town before supper," he promises.

"Thank you," I say, though it's not as if I have a lot of choice.

"You park it by our place," Amy tells him, tugging on my hand again. I can't think of any reason to delay, and really, it's not like I want to.

I follow her, glancing around as I do.

Stepping out of our way, her mother crosses her arms over her chest, that same piercing look in her eyes as she regards me again. She doesn't voice any opposition to Amy taking me home, though. Our gazes linger, and while I feel like I've passed some sort of preliminary test, I'm well aware that I'm still being scrutinized.

That doesn't deter me from letting Amy lead me out of the gathering crowd. After a decade of being treated like dirt by pretty much everyone in Wynrath Crest, I keep my guard up; for all I know, this might be a trap.

But she wasn't wrong. I'm exhausted straight down to my bones. So long as the trap comes with a shower and a decent night's sleep?

It's a risk I'm willing to take.

Chapter Ten

EMBER

"So," Amy says, glancing back at me as we cross the square. "Boy troubles?"

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