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Heath was silent for a moment. Then he reached for her hand. She thought he would place his over the top of hers on the sand, like he had last time. But instead he curled his fingers over hers, so that her hand was clasped inside his. Then he raised the pair and placed her palm flat against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat—did humans’ hearts usually beat so quickly? But then, hers was racing as well.

“I swear I’ll never betray that trust,” Heath said quietly.

Merletta stared into his eyes as her heart beat even faster, its frantic pace almost painful now. Perhaps it was trying to make up for the fact that she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Heath held her gaze, and when she didn’t look away, didn’t remove her hand from his chest, something shifted in his eyes. She thought he leaned toward her slightly, but it was hard to be sure. She still hadn’t drawn breath, and she was almost as dizzy as she had been when she started to hallucinate.

Suddenly, a powerful rush of wind swept over them, flinging sand into Merletta’s eyes and causing her to throw her arms up over her face. The moment broken, she blinked up at the sight of Rekavidur, towering above them with his wings outstretched.

“Time to return to Valoria, Heath,” he said, and his voice was grim.

Merletta expected Heath to protest, to complain in his usual lighthearted way about the dragon’s lack of tact. But the scowl he sent at his friend held anger rather than exasperation. She didn’t get the sense that Rekavidur’s intervention came as a surprise.

“I should return, too,” she said quickly, pushing herself to her feet. She sent Heath a smile, a little more shy than usual. “I’ll return when I can. Keep an eye out, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” he said quietly.

For a moment he hovered, looking like he was considering saying or doing something more. Then he stepped away from her and allowed Rekavidur to seize his shoulders. The dragon offered Merletta no farewell. Within moments they were high in the air, a rapidly disappearing speck in the blue sky.

Merletta wrapped her arms around her shoulders, her emotions tugging at her. She felt elated, almost giddy, at the thought of Heath’s touch. It was rare for him to initiate contact at all, let alone such an intimate gesture. Perhaps it went with his more private culture, but he’d always seemed very shy about touching her at all.

But her excitement was marred by unease as she thought over Rekavidur’s strange behavior. She was sure it wasn’t a coincidence that the dragon had intervened just as Heath had been leaning toward her. Something had definitely changed since the year before. Merletta didn’t understand the reasons, but the conclusion was clear.

The dragon no longer approved of her. And Heath knew it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“You should enter the combat competition, Merletta. You’d be great at it!”

Merletta shook her head, smiling at the eagerness in Sage’s voice. “I get pummeled enough in training, thanks. I don’t want to spend my Founders’ Day getting beaten up by fully trained guards for fun.”

“You wouldn’t be,” said Andre reassuringly.

Merletta threw him an incredulous glance. It was flattering that Andre’s admiration for her didn’t seem to have abated as the year progressed, but surely even he didn’t actually think she could win a combat competition open to every guard in the triple kingdoms.

Andre grinned, as if reading her mind. “I meant that you wouldn’t be fighting fully trained guards,” he explained. “Not that you wouldn’t get pummeled. You still might.”

Merletta chuckled. There was the candor she’d come to like in the younger trainee.

“There are two divisions to the competition,” he explained. “The qualified guards fight in one, everyone else in the other. Center trainees in third year or above have to go in the top category, since they’ve technically qualified to be guards.”

“Which is why I will most certainly not be entering,” Sage cut in.

Andre chuckled. “Sage is right that you’d be good though, Merletta. As a second year trainee, you’re among the most trained of the fighters who are allowed in the bottom category.”

Merletta narrowed her eyes at him. “As are you.”

Andre’s grin grew. “I’ve already signed up.”

Merletta rolled her eyes at him and shook her head indulgently. “Forget it, Andre. I’m not fighting you for fun on a holiday.”

Andre shrugged, his expression still cheerful. “Your loss.”

“Well, if not combat, what about one of the races?” Sage pressed. “Or I think there’s a competition that involves height and depth performance. You’d be great at that after all your acclimatization training!”

Merletta just shook her head absently.

“Come on, Merletta,” said Sage, exasperated. “What’s the point of coming to Founders’ Day if you don’t take part in any of the festival games?”


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy