by Chris Cannon
The medic placed her hand on Jaxon’s forehead and closed her eyes. The gashes on Jaxon’s torso stopped oozing blood.
“You have several broken ribs,” the medic said. “This will hurt.”
Jaxon looked like he couldn’t feel anything anymore. “Do it,” he said. He sucked in a breath at one point, and then exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”
“Now you.” The medic placed her hand on Bryn’s forehead. Quintessence flowed through Bryn’s body, healing her wounds.
“Both of you should go sign in at the library so your families know you’re okay.”
Jaxon didn’t budge.
“I will restore her so you may say good-bye,” the medic said. “But you cannot be with her while I do it.”
“I’m staying,” Jaxon said.
“Your father will want to know that you’re alive,” the medic said.
“Your mother will be frantic,” Bryn said. “Please come with me and check in.”
Jaxon met her gaze, and what she saw made her heart ache. Haunted. His eyes looked haunted and empty, like part of him was no longer there. She wanted to say she was sorry, but he knew that already, and it wouldn’t make a difference. So what was the point? Rhianna would still be dead.
As they approached the library, people around them grew silent. Anyone in their path moved out of their way. Like they were important. Then again, it may have been because they were covered in blood and gore.
Bryn’s grandfather waited for them at the sign-in table.
“You fought well,” her grandfather said. “Both of you.” He placed his hand on Jaxon’s shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss.”
Jaxon nodded, but he didn’t respond.
“What happens now?” Bryn asked.
“We’re doing a sweep of the campus to make sure no enemies are left behind. You may stay here or go to the dining hall until the all-clear is given.”
Bryn swiped at the front of her blood-spattered shirt. Something skin-like and squishy fell to the ground. “I’d like to change clothes.”
“That will have to wait,” her grandfather said.
“My father?” Jaxon asked.
“He’s waiting for you in the lobby where he is coordinating the guard’s efforts.”
Jaxon turned to Bryn. “Will you contact the medics and ask them when…when I can say good-bye?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” Jaxon left to go meet with his father.
“Go with your friends to the dining hall,” her grandfather said. “I’d like to know exactly where you are.”
…
Bryn sat at their usual table, eating her food without tasting it. Because some things never changed, everyone was whispering and pointing at her again.
“What is that about?” Bryn asked.
“Well,” Clint said, “you are covered in blood and gore.”
“Thanks for pointing that out.” She speared a carrot with her fork. “I’m not the only one who fought.”
Ivy laughed and then blushed. “Sorry, that was inappropriate nervous laughter because other students may have fought, but you and Jaxon…you guys were badass.”
She wanted to snap that watching your friend die in front of you had that effect on a person, but she knew Ivy didn’t mean to be insensitive. This whole situation was surreal.
“What are dragon funerals like?” Bryn asked. She’d seen human funerals on television, but had never attended one.
“There will be a memorial for friends and family, and then the people closest to her will be present at her funeral pyre.”
It took Bryn a moment to attach a meaning to the last word. “Like a Viking funeral?”
Clint nodded. “But without the water. Dragons don’t bury their dead, because we can’t take the risk of anyone discovering the bodies.”
Bryn finished her food in silence. When the siren sounded again, she tensed, but one of the guards in the dining hall announced it was the all-clear signal.
And suddenly she didn’t want to go back to her room by herself. “This will spoil my badass image, but would you guys mind walking me back to my room, just to make sure no one is waiting to get me…since I live alone now.”
“Sure. I could stay the night if you want,” Ivy said.
“No. That’s not necessary. Just a quick check of any place big enough for someone to hide and jump out at me will be okay.”
After her friends performed the room check, Bryn made sure the door and window were locked before climbing in the shower. She washed her hair until the water no longer ran red, which took a disturbing amount of time. Once she was dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, she walked into the living room and stared at the phone with dread. How was she supposed to ask the medics about Rhianna without crying? But Jaxon needed her to do this, so she placed the call and spoke the minimum amount to acquire the information she needed. Hopefully, the medic wouldn’t think she was rude. Next she called Jaxon. When he answered the phone, his voice sounded hoarse.
“It’s Bryn. You can say good-bye this evening after eight.”
There was silence on the line and then a quiet, “Thank you,” followed by a dial tone.
Once that was done, she was exhausted. What she needed was to turn her brain off for a little bit so she’d stop thinking about everything. Maybe a nap would work.
She lay in her bed, trying to relax, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She tried to think through all the changes that had happened and what was yet to come. In the win column, her parents were alive and, hopefully, well. And that seemed to be the only good thing. The Rebels, who all appeared to be psychotic hybrids, were dead. Would the hybrids and Throwbacks at the new settlement be left in peace, or would the Directorate make an example of them? One thing for sure, the arranged marriage law wouldn’t be overturned any time soon. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud, but maybe it was necessary. If the Directorate would agree to tell dragons why they were being denied, maybe that would make the situation better. If a couple knew they risked giving birth to a child who would be overly aggressive or sick with greed, maybe that could soften the blow of their contract being denied.
And that thought led her to the fun fact that she was legally obligated to marry Jaxon. A month ago they’d had a plan—he’d continue seeing Rhianna and she’d continue seeing Valmont. But now…what would they become? She considered him an ally and maybe one day he’d become her friend. That was the best she could hope for. No. That was wrong.
She could hope to be a good aunt to Asher and a friend to Lillith. Maybe between the two of them they could prevent Ferrin from passing his toxic personality traits to the baby. Maybe that would be her new goal. What else could she focus on? Garret would continue his work on the prosthetic wing. She could help him. Her parents would need help re-entering dragon society and making peace with her grandparents, and Bryn could help smooth the way for them. Funny, how even though she’d lost control of her life, she’d regained her family.
Her phone rang. It’s not like she was sleeping anyway. She threw off the covers and trudged into the living room. “Hello?”
“Bryn,” Valmont’s voice came through the phone. “I heard about the attack. I needed to make sure you weren’t hurt.”
“I was,” Bryn said, “but the medic healed me.”
“Good.”
An awkward silence stretched out between them.
“I saw your journal,” she admitted.
“You saw what I wrote?”
“I did. And I have a question for you.” Did she really want to know the answer to this question? She needed to know, but that wasn’t the same thing. “Whatever your answer is, it won’t change my mind about how we left things, but now that the bond is broken, do you still feel the same way about me?”
Valmont laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “The joke is on me, because yes, I do. The bond didn’t make me love you. Loving you made the bond stronger.”
Bryn’s heart clenched. �
��You’d think I’d get some sort of satisfaction from that admission, but I don’t. Good-bye, Valmont.” She hung up the phone and waited to see what life would throw at her next. Whatever it was, she was strong enough to handle it on her own, but grateful that she wouldn’t have to. She had friends and family who would look out for her, and Jaxon, although she wasn’t sure what category he belonged in. They’d just have to figure that out as they went along.
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Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank Erin Molta and Stacy Abrams for their editing expertise. Thank you to Entangled Publishing for believing in my dragons.
About the Author
Chris Cannon is the award-winning author of the Going Down In Flames series and the Boyfriend Chronicles. She lives in Southern Illinois with her husband and several furry beasts.
She believes coffee is the Elixir of Life. Most evenings after work, you can find her sucking down caffeine and writing fire-breathing paranormal adventures or romantic comedies. You can find her online at www.chriscannonauthor.com.
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