Of course, her friend probably knew her well enough to read her silence. That was likely why Letitia looked even more worried than before.
“It’s all so secretive,” Letitia continued. “I won’t even know what you’re doing.”
“I’m sure I’ll be allowed to visit,” Merletta reassured her cheerfully. “I’ll keep you updated.”
She suddenly realized that she was swishing her tail from side to side, and she slowed the movement with an effort. The truth was that she was impatient to be moving, but she didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings by cutting their goodbye short. Tish was almost the only person who’d been kind to Merletta at the home—the last thing she wanted to do was make the other girl think she didn’t care about their looming separation.
“It was kind of you to come with me, Tish,” she said. She frowned slightly. “Will you be all right getting back to Tilssted on your own, though?”
“I’ll swim straight home,” Tish assured her. “I won’t draw attention to myself.”
Merletta nodded. Tish had always been better at that particular skill than she had. If she had only been able—or perhaps willing—to be inconspicuous, her life at the home would probably have been much easier. And yet, she didn’t exactly regret the shock waves she’d made. She smiled grimly to herself. At least they’d been as eager to see the back of her fins as she had been to leave. She’d never needed to fear being bullied into staying on as a carer for new arrivals, like some of the more biddable girls ended up doing.
She bid her friend a warm goodbye, watching the other girl propel herself through the water until she was out of sight. As fond as Merletta was of Tish, she didn’t need her friend’s nerves influencing her at this moment.
As soon as she was alone, she turned back to the doorway in front of her. Early as it was, the gates stood wide. Still, the pearl-encrusted bars didn’t exactly spell welcome. They were a reminder of the opulence of the city of Skulssted at large, and of the prestige of the Center of Culture, which Merletta knew lay just through those gates.
She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself. It didn’t matter that no one else thought she could do this. She knew she could, and she was going to prove it. Sucking in a mouthful of water, she let the familiar salty cool calm her down. The water tasted cleaner in Skulssted, she had to give them that.
Her eyes flickered open. The gates were still there, seeming to beckon and forbid in equal measure. She squared her shoulders determinedly and, with a powerful flick of her tail, surged through the doorway.
CHAPTER TWO
Heath drew a deep breath, balancing precariously on his miniature island and letting a smile creep across his face as the saltiness of the air assailed his nose. The rock didn’t jut far out of the water, meaning that the occasional wave lapped his boots, but it didn’t trouble him.
“Better?”
The question made Heath turn. His smile broadened into a grin as he looked at his companion, who was perched on a second rocky protrusion with his tail dangling idly into the water. The dragon, although very small for its kind, wouldn’t exactly have fit on the outcrop Heath currently occupied.
“Much better,” he acknowledged. “Why is it that my problems always seem to get smaller the closer I get to the ocean, Reka?”
“I don’t know,” Rekavidur responded, stretching his neck upward and closing his eyes as he extended his snout toward the sun. “But I feel it, too. There’s something both calming and exciting about the endlessness of the sea’s expanse.”
Heath chuckled. “You’re very articulate for a dragon, aren’t you? Or is the reputation of dragons as being aloof and uncommunicative just wrong?”
Reka’s reptilian mouth stretched in a faint smile, and his tone held a hint of condescension as he responded. “Perhaps we just don’t waste words where they won’t be appreciated. You humans aren’t exactly known for any depth of understanding.”
Heath laughed aloud. “You’re very high and mighty for basically being a child, Reka,” he chided.
The dragon sniffed, the sound slightly petulant. “I’m decades older than you, young human. You could show a little more respect.”
“My apologies, Mighty Beast,” said Heath meekly. But his smile broke out again quickly. He knew perfectly well that his friend wasn’t really offended. “But eighteen is considered an adult for a human, you know. You were probably only the size of a pony when you were eighteen, weren’t you?”
“Probably,” conceded Reka, stretching his wings for balance as he shifted his taloned front feet to avoid them getting wet as a decent-sized wave swept past. He was considerably larger than a pony now. More like the size of two warhorses one on top of the other. Still much smaller than a fully-grown dragon, but Heath knew that he would get there. It would just take another century or so.
“Thank you for coming,” Heath said suddenly. “I needed to get away for a minute. A little further away than I could manage by myself.”
He glanced back toward the distant shore. He could just make out the rocky cliff where Reka had met him earlier, and the beach to its left. Even his family’s manor house was visible, at least to his eyes. It looked like a child’s toy house, perched on top of the cliff, some way back from the edge.
“I am glad to help,” said Reka placidly, sweeping his tail idly back and forth in the water. “As you know, it is no hardship to me to fly out over the ocean with you. If anything, I wish we were going further.”
“Me too,” Heath muttered. He sighed, turning his eyes back to the ocean in front of him, although his thoughts remained on the visitor whose arrival had prompted him to make himself scarce.
“Are the dragons worried about all this talk?” he asked curiously. “About magic being dangerous and all that?”
“Worried?” Reka repeated, sounding faintly surprised. “Why would dragons be worried that humans are afraid of magic?”
“I suppose dragons don’t have much reason to be worried about anything,” said Heath ruefully.