Mikhail’s great reed-organ dragon-voice entered her mind. I will not let you fall.
He rose gently into the air, as the back row of floating whiskers formed a softly glowing shelter around her. The entire world scintillated. Though she felt no sense of motion or wind whipping through her hair, the ground fell away and the world spun behind her. Up they rose until the town was a map of twinkling lights below.
It was the most exhilarating moment Bird had ever experienced. She was actually riding a dragon! And along with the sheer thrill and joy of it came an immense feeling of love for Mikhail, who had trusted her enough to share this secret and wonderful part of himself with her.
They began to descend. Lights became signs and windows. Roofs rose toward her, and then they were drifting among the university buildings she still remembered, though she had not set food there in nearly thirty years.
The university’s reception hall was lit up, the row windows sending stripes of light slanting down the broad terrace.
“What if they see us?” Bird whispered, anxiously watching the people in suits and gowns walking up the steps.
We are invisible, came the organ voice. Be prepared to step down.
She barely
had time to think about her sandaled foot touching the ground before she found herself standing on the terrace, Mikhail’s strong arm supporting her back. The shimmer faded, leaving him standing at her side. He had chosen a spot away from the beams of light from the tall windows.
Bird smiled at him. She had arrived without a hair out of place, or a wrinkle in the silk.
“Ready?” Mikhail asked, offering his arm.
“Ready,” she responded, laying her hand on his forearm.
They started up the stairs. Bird was glad of his presence beside her. The university was Bartholomew’s territory—or so she’d thought of it all these years. But Mikhail’s book had nothing to do with the English Department. She clung to that thought as they approached the open doors of the reception hall.
It had been so long since she’d had to attend a dressy event, at first everything was a confusion of social voices and laughter, glitter of diamonds on hands, the jewel-tones of the women’s dresses bracketed by the somber grays and blacks of men in suits.
“Mikhail!” Out of the confusion a man emerged, smiling. A thick mop of silvery blond hair framed his face, one lock flopping on his broad forehead above friendly brown eyes. Like Mikhail, he looked as if he had both Asian and European heritage. “And this is?”
“Bird,” Mikhail said to her. “May I introduce my old friend Joey Hu? Joey, this is Bird Worcester.”
Joey’s eyes flashed a brilliant gold as he grinned. “Bird Wooster? Oh, please tell me—”
His husky voice was so hopeful, so full of enjoyment that for the first time she found herself delighted to say, “Born Bertie Worcester, yes.”
Joey clasped her right hand with both of his. “How very glad I am to meet you! Let me get you a drink. Mikhail, what are you having?”
Joey folded them into a sphere of good will, as he began pointing out fellow academics. Guided by this friendly man, Bird watched the ordinary people holding drinks and chattering, many in the stiff poses she remembered from those awful days when she had to attend formal gatherings. Time and distance from those days of dread enabled her now to see that many looked at stiff as she had once felt, their smiles as fixed. She now realized that the professors weren’t all as gregarious and socially adept as she’d assumed.
Joey walked them around, introducing the heads of departments. The guests’ gazes touched her briefly, and moved on to Mikhail, as this reception was in his honor. He proved to be deft and assured with social interactions, though on the quiet side.
Joey brought Bird a cup of the punch from a great crystal bowl. It was berry-flavored and fizzy, pleasantly spiked with gin. She sipped it, enjoying the heady drink as Mikhail fielded questions.
Finally Joey said to Bird, “May I borrow him for a minute? Are you all right here?”
They stood at one side of the hall, with an excellent view of the stage. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Mikhail glanced at her in silent question. She smiled to reassure him. He smiled back, touched her hand, and followed Joey up to the podium.
Joey tapped the microphone. “Let’s get started, shall we? It is my honor to welcome Professor Mikhail Long among us. Many of you are aware of his credentials. The list is as ‘long’ as his name.”
The mild pun raised a chuckle, and Joey started listing those credentials. Bird sipped again, relishing the sight of Mikhail up there, looking so handsome. She couldn’t believe it—here she was, his invited guest, at a place she never thought to set foot again. Somehow the university didn’t seem so terrible anymore. The humiliating memories were still there, but they were mere shadows of what they had once been.
All of a sudden she was glad she’d come. It was true, time could heal.
And that was before she even considered the fact that she had been brought here by dragon back. The man she’d met two days ago, and kissed today, was a dragon. He was kind, and sincere, and smart, and he loved tea and art, and buying hot pastries in the morning. He thought she was pretty.
And he was a dragon.