I swallow several times. “I didn’t know that was what it was called.”
“I’m…so sorry.” And his voice sounds broken, like he really means it.
A dark figure darts across the sky. Adom hasn’t noticed it yet. I look past him, my attention fixed, fascinated with its graceful loops and twirls. It paints the sky with its tail.
“Adom.” I jab at air.
He spins. “Go get the horse and return to the castle,” he orders. “I’m going after her.”
“I don’t think so,” I reply, reaching for the arrows in my sack. “I’m going with you.”
He stares at me, incredulous.
“You think I’m a changeling, don’t you?”
“But I’ve never seen you change. Believe me, I’ve tried my best to provoke it out of you. And you’re not trained for combat. Please, Elanor. Reconsider.”
“These arrows are tipped in dragonsbane, a little concoction Patience made up when she thought my life might be in danger. She’s training me in shooting and on the sword as well.”
“Even if you are a changeling, you haven’t learned to control the change as yet.”
“I don’t need to change, brother.” At that, he winces. “All I need is a compliant dragon who will let me catch a ride. I’ll do the rest with my flaming arrows.” I’m lucky to be currently wearing the dragon armor that Patience made for me underneath my servant’s clothes.
After a moment, he sighs and runs past the hill, out of sight. In moments, a greenish gray figure emerges from the shadows of the mound. I race across the plains toward the serpent. The dragon bellows, its eyes transfixed on the figure in the sky. I clamber on its back, and after I’m securely clutching the folds of its neck, Adom bounds into the clouds in fast pursuit of the rogue.
I don’t know if Adom is truly my brother. I can’t even process how I feel about it right now. I don’t know if I’m a changeling, as he suspects. After we confront this rogue, we’ll go and see this Odeba again. If Adom’s suspicions are correct, I’ll need time to think about what it means. To be Adom’s sister. To be a changeling dragon. My head reels even thinking about it.
So, instead of worrying about the what ifs, I say a prayer for Nathaniel and his Grannie. The new dragon doesn’t appear to be heading this direction, and so far I don’t smell smoke or see any charred lands. It’s a good sign, but one can never be too sure when dealing with dragons.
Slither Page 31
