A Shade of Dragon 3(63)
“Take care of her,” my mother commanded him.
“I will,” Theon promised, bowing slightly. “I do love her. I love her with all my heart.”
“And you,” I said to Dad. “Take care of her.” He and I both knew that I meant Mom. Theon wasn’t the only one here charged with the delicate task of maintaining a woman’s heart.
Dad stuck out his hand, and I caught the ghost of a tear in his eyes. A bittersweet tug swelled in my heart. “I will,” he promised me. We shook hands, and he pulled me into his arms once more, for a final hug. “It’s just hard to let go,” he croaked.
“I know,” I said, patting his shoulder. “But you’re not. You’re not letting go of anything except your idea of what life—or ‘destiny’—or even me—have to be.” I pulled away and found that the tears in his eyes shimmered all the thicker. “You’re just growing,” I promised him softly.
He pulled me close again and gave me a hard kiss on the forehead. I stared at Dad and smiled, finding it strange that my own eyes stung, until Theon’s hand slid into my own. I looked back to Theon and smiled again, though the smile was little more than a mask. This was harder than I had thought—but it had to be done. And it would be okay. It would be okay.
Dad touched my face, and Mom reached out and squeezed my shoulder. I wanted to remind them that they had each other, but decided against it… just in case destiny had another change of heart. Theon pulled me from the porch, down the wooden stairs, and I knew that they were watching as we disappeared.
From Theon’s back, as we forged our way toward the portal at the rock island, I glanced over my shoulder once more, hair whipping in the wind, as if to say goodbye once and for all to the strip of land where I had grown from that child to this woman. I could no longer see the wooden porch of the beach house, but a feeling stirred in my gut that Mom and Dad still stood there, staring out across the sea, watching the unbelievable silhouette of a black dragon as it became smaller and smaller, the woman who looked an awful lot like their daughter riding on its back.
Epilogue: Nell
The wedding was a small but lavish ceremony, held in the throne room of the palace late the following morning, with only a handful of attendants. At breakfast—an indulgent spread of warm peach bread and cream cheese with champagne; dragon cuisine was one to which I wouldn’t require much time to adjust—I dined with the court, including the former queen, Mrs. Aena, and Lethe. Theon had been drafted into helping Altair prepare. Merulina had likewise taken a retinue of her closest friends to the atrium bath house for skin treatments.
I tried to convince Lethe to attend—he had expressed to me his sorrow that he doubted he would ever find someone as Theon had found me, or as Altair had found Merulina, and I’d impressed upon him that a wedding, even a small one, was a great place to meet other hopefuls and romantics. “I’d rather not,” he said, shifting his eyes from me to gaze wistfully out across The Hearthlands… which still resembled a more peaceful, however chill, Everwinter. “But thank you, though.” He smiled unconvincingly. “I’d better enjoy this winter while the island has it, and take myself out for a walk.”
I watched Lethe go with a sad kind of smile, but brightened immediately when Theon, of all people, took his seat. “Hey, babe,” I greeted him. “I thought you were off with Altair, helping him sober up and recite his vows and all that.”
“First of all, you would be surprised how well dragons can hold their liquor,” Theon replied. “And, secondly, I am actually still ‘with’ him, technically, but I was in the hall, looking for more undamaged vases, and Merulina caught me and asked me to send you to her. She’s in the royal family wing. One of the ladies in her court actually is rather hungover. Merulina would like help getting dressed, and, well, she said that she thought you’d be the most… appropriate.” His eyes darted to his mother. “She still feels a little uncomfortable among fire dragons, it would seem, given the history there.”
“Of course,” I replied, “I’ll go.”
Theon showed me to her room and we shared a quick kiss—though no kiss was too quick; we were still newlyweds—before he departed.
I knocked lightly once, and entered the chamber to discover a distraught yet gorgeous bride, her fiery tresses splashed down her shoulders in soft curls, garbed in a dazzling white gown, with twin tears tracking down her alabaster cheeks. “Hello, Penelope,” she said, pitchy and hoarse. “I can’t get his mother’s pendant to snap.” More tears darted down her cheeks, though she refused to sob as a human bride might have. “I was worried it was a bad sign.”