Below is a fanart of Norah's armor by @Buildernut. I forgot to add it to last week's chapter and I'm so sorry Buildernut about that, it really just slipped my mind! I absolutely love the art and am so thankful that someone took the time to draw this and the other fanart they're sent me. Thank you!
Okay, so tea time. I need your help. I really want to do another sneak peek into book 3 because I can't keep anything to myself and you guys are just amazing and deserve a snippet. But I'll only do it if you guys can get this chapter to 70 votes by the following Sunday's (when the next's chapter's due.) It's completely up to you what you all what to see, so leave your suggestions in the comments! I can do a scene sneak-peek into a chapter, a character reveal/art, the title of the book, or something else your brilliant minds can come up with. I'll do a tally of the comments which will determine what get's posted, and I'm super excited to do this and hope we can get to 70 votes!
Enjoy : )
Norah
Morning comes early for me and I made sure to be up and ready before the others, even after my late night with Gaia. I rested against Rima, fingers curled around a tin mug. My eyes narrow on Squirm, curled on the grass, blinking at me with those solid black eyes. With a sigh through my nose, I try to follow Gaia's instructions and send an image of him getting up and moving into the river for breakfast.
He yawns and rolls over, wrapping his tail tighter around him.
A wisp of amusement flutters through the bond and I have the sudden urge to elbow Rima. She blows hot air across my head, trying to undo my crown of braids while enjoying the view of the river that is flowing slow enough for panes of ice to coat the top. Her heart syncs with mine, nearly unnoticeable unless one of us pays attention to the fraction-of-a-second offbeat thrum.
Near the top of the hill, Galuer stirs with a yawn and uncurls himself. Squirm lifts his head just in time to see Holland trudge out in a thick jacket and pants, his silver hair askew from sleep. He curses at the frigid cold and makes a face at me, the way you would when walking into your house and finding a complete stranger sitting on your couch.
"Nothing's added," I murmur, extending the mug. I have never been much of a coffee drinker unless my bones groaned with exhaustion or charisma shots were needed to boost my tolerance and social skills. Tea suited me best and there were never any headaches from depriving myself of it.
I had seen Holland without coffee once.
I prefer to not put up with that nonsense again.
But his thoughts were far from mine and as he stopped dead in his tracks, my arms lowered. Just an inch. "What did you do? What happened? What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing's wrong," I murmur because nothing is. For once. "Why does something have to be wrong for me to be nice?"
His shoulders loosen in the truth of my words and he eases himself into a sitting position beside me, taking the mug with a quiet thanks. "You've never made me coffee before. It was suspicious."
Galeur takes up a seat behind Squirm, who refuses to move from his spot and peeps an eye open, daring the giant dragon to move him. With his giant snout, Galeur gently pushes him toward Rima who huffs in protest and pushes him back. Squirm sits up, head-turning between the two before Galeur lits his head to watch Squirm lay on Hollands lap. Like his dragon, Holland frowns, sighs, and begrudgingly leaves the salamander alone.
Satisfied, Rima lays her head back down and shuts her eyes. Though, not to sleep.
"Holland," I say placatingly, voice low to keep from waking up the others. He takes a tentative sip of coffee like I might have steeped the brew in hot sauce and not water, and watches me side-long. "I'm exploring my commoner-bonding-whatever with you. And you seem to have trust issues that may interfere with a bond, should we work on that?"
We both know who has the real trust issues but he decides to indulge me and raises a brow. "Is this one of those things where I fall backward and you catch me?"
"No, that game is stupid," I say, pulse rising as the inevitable conversation nears. "How about something smaller, something I would survive." Holland readies a retort that has me--politely--interjecting. I force a sneer to my voice, hoping it hides how badly I want to get this conversation over with and how nervous it makes me. "Holland this is a serious conversation and you're making it not very serious."
Holland blinks, then nods for me to go on.
I open my mouth, every word I spent hours thinking of, every deep, dark secret and fear Holland would want to know about, dangling off the edge of my tongue. I want to share my secrets; want them to be spilled.
But nothing comes out.
I close my mouth, the weight of everyone's heavy stare burning into me. The anxiety. Crying in the storage closet, thinking the world was suffocating me. The nightmares of the tombs. Alyran's throat bursting red. The way his dragon screamed as corpses piled onto him.
My heart skyrockets, palms slick and fingers fiddling in my lap until Squirm inches closer to rest his head beneath them. The panes of ice drifting down the river turn black as death, spreading until it catches the nearby iceberg. I force it away, smaller, smaller, smaller until only white is left and hear myself saying, "I'm allergic to seaweed."
Holland starts, stops, then frowns. A line of surprise creases between his brows, the gears of understanding churning within his eyes. "You're allergic to seaweed," he echoes
My head bobs. "Yeah, like really allergic. Hives and everything."
The puzzle clicks and his gaze intensifies. "Norah, I've taken you to eat sushi."
"I know," I say.
"Three times."
"And it was horrible." Heat rushes to my cheeks, battling against the frost I pour through me to counter it. Holland shudders and I extinguish the cold, quickly glancing away. "I don't even like sushi. I like the ocean though."
Rima sighs, her ribs expanding and contrasting against my back because not even she knew of my allergies.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks, and I can't tell if he's angry or shocked or disappointed. Guilt pangs through me at how he might see this. Time and money wasted eating something I despised.
"I didn't want you to think I was picky," I tell him, finally meeting his gaze, then quickly dart away.
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It had been a few months after I'd graduated as a scub. I had been wandering through the Main Halls and training yards while waiting for Easton to finish his meeting with the nobles and his parents when I heard someone shout my name. I had stopped and slowly turned to see a very annoyed Holland and his new group of students standing there, one of them rubbing the back of his head.
He beckoned me over, gave me a sword, and used me as a dummy to show his student how to block an attack they weren't fully understanding. I had gone along willingly until the third try, when I froze the grass beneath his boots. He almost slipped, but years of practice made him stop and look down at my perfect circle of ice. He glared at me until I said, "please, don't punch me."
Then he had said, "If you're going to try and make me slip, put it somewhere where I won't see it. Like under my boot. What are those mages teaching you? How to get caught?"
"What if I was trying to make you see it?" I braced for the blow that never came.
His eyes narrowed and gestured for me to go again. "Someone thinks she's got a sense of humor, huh?"
"I'll be here all week."
He lunged and I blocked. I knew immediately what Holland was doing when he didn't stop and swung again. A teacher testing their student, checking for weaknesses and flaws. And for every one he corrected. Later that week I accidentally run into Holland in the hallway-- while waiting yet again for Easton. Neither of us had been much interested in conversation but he had politely asked about my mage training and I told him about the ice, about gaining control over it, and he asked to see it in action. So I had, almost every day after that for four months until he asked me to join him and his wife for sushi. Later on, I learned Riveta had made him ask because like most dragons, she was curious about the half-breed to and why Holland was spending his afternoons training an old student.
I agreed without hesitation because at the time I was still trained not to say no to Holland. Also, he knew I grew up noble and rich, and in a large, beautiful house. I didn't want him to think that by saying no, I was being spoiled and demanding people obey only what I wanted. So I ate the seaweed-wrapped fish without so much as a frown or grimace, even managing to keep a steady stream of conversation going with Riveta's help. And did the same thing on two more occasions.
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Holland sighs exasperated. "Is that why you disappeared for two days?"
I give him a shy smile. "I may not have been able to move."
His jaw clenches, eyes burning with anger before he closes his eyes and murmurs, more to himself than me, "Small steps." He runs a tongue over his teeth. "Any other life-threatening truths you'd like to share?"
I shake my head, mouth bone-dry. It wasn't much, but I know it would satisfy Holland for a little while. I could stop, change the subject, and move away from the topic. Instead, I force myself a bit further, proud of my boldness and the small step forward, but also hating it because with my luck it could be the wrong thing to say.
"You and Riveta," I start, twiddling my thumbs and avoiding his gaze. "Are, uh, the closest things I have to family--you too Galeur, and obviously Rima and Thorn."
Though my gaze is trained on the river, I'm watching Holland, watching his face drop in surprise. I sputter for the right words, heart-pounding, even as Rima's warmth fills my chest, trying to ease me. "I-I just thought you should know that I appreciate everything you guys have done for me, and I know--I know--you always tell me not thank you because it's second nature for you to help people, or me, or whatever. I don't know. But I like letting you know I appreciate you because sometimes people don't know we appreciate them."
The pounding of my heart reaches my ears, my throat. I can barely swallow, but still find myself talking and my hands waving. "And I appreciate you enduring my latest antics in going to Aros and then putting up with my sister and her glares. She's just really protective." I pause, take a deep breath and say, slower, "And I want you to know that sometimes, most of the time, I wish I wasn't Crimson but a Holland."
I can't look at him after that, afraid I'll retch on the grass, and focus on stroking the back of Squirm's neck, feeling the rumble in his throat as he sleeps on Holland's lap. Gaia said that when the connection to a familiar and human was complete, the familiar could sense emotions, and they could send pictures back and forth like drawings. A far easier way to communicate than with words.
Finally, I sneak a look at Holland, expecting a frown, some kind of disapproval or annoyance. I wasn't ready for the smile. The way his grin splits ear-to-ear, his teeth a crescent of white. Of joy and love.
Now I feel like vomiting for an entirely different reason. For the relief that swelled within me for saying something right.
Holland must have realized his giddiness and quickly cleared his throat, his face falling into his typical cold-calm. But his lips twitch. He tugs on my braid, using it to bring me into one of his side hugs. I don't mind, and wrap my arm around his back.
"Well," he says, "as long as we're making confessions, Riveta and I, we've been looking into ways to adopt you." He glances at me. "I know with your ice and your family being mages, you're technically a mage and Crimson. But you know my sister is a judge--" A sister I've never met. An entire family I've never met but always hear about-- "she's helping us work through that but everything needs your parent's approval. And you're nineteen, an adult to other factions but a child to immortals."
Everything that had been building beneath my skin goes still and cold. "What?" It's the only thing I can think to say as I pull away just enough to see his face and Galeur's unreadable gaze. Of following his riders lead, seeing how much he'll reveal.
Rima's shock flutters between us before pulling back into her own mind.
"What--what if Riveta has a kid?" I ask, almost hitting my head for its stupidity.
Holland flicks my temple and pulls me back against his chest where his heart pounds against my ear, almost as wild as mine. "You know she can't have kids. And if by some miracle she did, that wouldn't mean we'd not still love you."
My chest split as Rima's beams. For a long time, she's considered the Holland's family, they've always been there for us both. Galeur and Thorn took her hunting with them. They shared food and stories and problems. They wrestled in the grass. Before finding me, Rima had never known what it was like to have a family, so to have an official group to be apart of overjoyed her.
But all I can think of is sitting on the hospital bed after the fight with Renora, the plastic crinkling beneath me as Riveta told Holland that I was the only child they were ever going to have because her body couldn't--could never--wield a child. It was never something Holland talked about, and something Riveta barely spoke about and her voice always croaked, tears welling in her eyes. So I never brought it up, never brought up anything that could make them think of the one thing they've always wanted.
"Sorry, I just meant, me?" I clarify. "The problem child in the family, the girl who sneaks into places in the middle of the night and gets you guys called in? The girl who runs to another continent because she's done with people, only to end up with more people? Me, your child?"
"Yeah," he says coolly, "we immortals get bored easily."
Galeur huffs in agreement.
"So," Holland drawls, settling against Rima's warm side, an arm still slung around my shoulders. "Hypothetically, if we're able to scrounge up these papers would you sign them? Riveta and I were going to ask you together, she had this whole thing planned right down to the date and time, but..."
"Hypothetically, sure." It sounds too casual compared to the storm inside me, a mix of excitement and fear. I straighten, giving him a smug, noble smile. "I suppose I can work that into my calendar of chaos."
He shakes his head, eyes slightly wide. "Norah, trouble finds you. Don't go out of your way to find it-"
"Too late. I've have plans now."
"Chaos? Did somebody call me?" Holland and I twist around, eyes landing on the black shadow stark against the purple-pink sky. Arms spread, Dagen sketches into a low, dramatic bow like the thought of tumbling down fifteen feet of scale and onto grass never occurred to him. Or he doesn't care.
Rima snickers and I don't need to look at her to know she felt every movement the necromancer made climbing up.
Holland frowns, slowly taking back his arm to fold it over his chest. "Do you ever sleep?"
Dagen straightens, twirling his two daggers with sure fingers. "Only the living sleep."
"But you're alive," I point out.
He winks at that. "Only on the outside, love." Dagen throws his hood over his dark head and walks down Rima's spine without so much as a wobble. He weaves around her spines like they were curtains or furniture, not barbs of scale sharp enough to impale him. Rima narrows her eyes in amusement and shifts to try and make him fall. But Dagen just steps down and casually slides down her side, walking toward the tent like nothing happened.
"I don't like him," says Holland, watching as Dagen moves toward the tree he usually perches in.
"You don't like a lot of people," I muse as Dagen spins on his heels, rearing away from the tent before it opens and Clarika trudges out with a tired glare. The glare intensifies on me and Holland sighs, exasperated. Clarika eyes us, if she noticed Dagen climbing into the tree or heard him by the tent she doesn't show it. But I'm wondering how many times Dagen has lingered close to me or anyone else without us knowing.
It'll be another thing for him to teach me.
"When does the tavern open?" Clarika demands by way of greeting.
I shrug, forming a black mug almost identical to the one Holland has in hand. "I don't know but you can have some ice if you're hungry." Holland blinks at the mug but Clarika stops and stares at it before cursing at me and marching into the foggy street.
Once we get our group up to eat, the town people are starting to walk the streets and the sun has risen. We find my sister watching the river from a bench, arms folded and legs crossed but her face is relaxed, content. She's much happier once we have breakfast and I take a little time to thank Gaia for the training. I still haven't decided whether or not to accept her offer but she says I can take the time to think it over and give her an answer when we come back.
Leaving for the mountains doesn't take long after that, and as our dragons ascend over the mountains, I find myself hopeful for what lies ahead.
Remember to vote for a sneak-peek into book 3!