"She's so cute," Elinor said, admiring the little dragon.
Fotia hooted in response.
"She said thank you," Jarrett told Elinor.
Elinor's eyelids snapped all the way open. "You can understand her?"
Jarrett nodded. He'd been around Jacinda's boys when they were young. He'd learned to read their emotions. "To a certain extent. It's not a direct translation. She's pleased and she appreciates you noticing her."
Connor patted Fotia on the head. As they walked toward the entrance to the tunnels below the castle, he asked Jarrett, "When will she learn to turn to a human? Assuming she will at all? I don't really know how any of this works."
"Sometime around her twelfth birthday, she will experience her first change. It can be very jarring for some dragons. For others, it comes much easier. You have a few years before you have to worry about it though. Until then, keep her happy and fed."
"Will she remember the things we do and say around her before she turns the first time? Will she have the same memories a human child would have?" Connor asked, as they descended down a long staircase. Bastian walked in front with a torch while Elinor brought up the rear with a second torch.
"Yes, she will. Fotia will know who cared for her." Jarrett appreciated Connor’s interest. Connor was a good father. Jacinda, Queen of the Yellow, had ignored her boys for years. When they first turned, they had little interest in her, preferring the nursemaids who'd tended to them in their early years. Jarrett felt it was a shame and damaged their relationships. While the older son, Destrian, served his mother faithfully, Jarrett knew it was only because he would inherit the throne. Henry had never been interested in pleasing his mother. They had been strangers to one another, which was evident in Jacinda's lack of concern when she learned her youngest son had perished at the hands of Stacia, the Blue dragon ruling the Drowned Country. "She will know if she was loved or if she was ignored. Just like any child, she is very aware of what is going on around her, even if she unable to fully express it until she gets older."
"Interesting," Connor said. He reached down, patting Fotia on the head again. "She's a sweet little thing. I'm lucky to rear her."
"You are a good man, Connor." Jarrett could see why Connor had been Tressa's best friend growing up. He saw the pain in her eyes when she looked at Connor, wishing her friend was back. The man Tressa had known before his transformation was still in there somewhere, even if he didn't possess the same memories. Perhaps once Tressa was well, the two could reconcile and spend more time together. Jarrett felt it would be good for both of them.
When they reached the bottom of the rough-hewn staircase, Connor pushed ahead of Bastian. He jogged down the hall, the rest of them following at a close clip.
Bastian slowed near a doorway, but looked surprised when Connor kept going. "Isn't it over here?" Bastian asked Connor. But Connor ignored him and continued on.
They entered another large cavern, similar to the one at the base of the stairs. Connor ran even faster, coming to the edge of the cavern. He pointed to a solid rock wall. "Here. It was here."
Jarrett strode to the place Connor indicated. He rubbed his hands together and closed his eyes. Reaching deep inside himself, he drew from his well of magic. He took in a deep breath. Letting it out, he felt the magic rise within him. He clapped his hands together once, then slowly drew them apart, letting the magic pulse and grow between his palms.
It was a feeling he both loved and dreaded, one he used only when necessary. This was the third time in as many moons. More than he'd used in the last five years. But it was more and more necessary. And now three more people knew what he could do.
His eyelids snapped open and the magic raced out of his body and into the air. Reds and blues and greens spiraled around the spot Connor had indicated. Yes, Malachi had used magic here. Jarrett closed his eyes again, seeing what no one else could see.
The cavern swirled, jagged edges of memories lodged in the stale air. He could see it all. Feel it. Malachi looking over his shoulder. The screams of the men Connor was devouring nearby. The crunch of bones snapping as the dragon's jaws reduced them to mere scraps.
Malachi had mumbled words under his breath, waving his hands in the air. He was a powerful mage. Jarrett could taste the mage’s power on his tongue. It swept over him like a black shroud over a corpse.
Malachi had used his magic to lift the heavy egg. He stepped into the shimmering, magical opening. Jarrett strained, squinting to see what was on the other side. Anything that marked the place Malachi had chosen to take the eggs.
Jarrett’s stomach dropped to his feet when he saw the statue through the portal. "No," he said, in shock. He lost his concentration and his magic quickly receded into the secret well inside him.