CHAPTER EIGHTEENWHEN YOU CREATE THE PRETENDING PLAN
FARREN
“Farren?”
I’ve trained myself to wake early. After a lifetime of rising with the sun, sometimes a simple beam of light from my window can rouse me from sleep. I haven’t needed either of my parents to call up to me or bang on a door in years.
“Farren?”
So why am I hearing their voices? Their urgent loud voices.
“Farren, are you here?”
I stir, open my eyes to find only darkness. Darkness and then a boy. James Murphy lays right beside me with the silver hatchling nestled at his chest, hisbarechest. The red wool pools around the baby dragon who stole his blanket.
Oh my god, we fell asleep out here. Together. Close together.
“Farren!”
Nity raises her head but doesn’t stand. Which means it can only be my parents calling my name. I jolt up and there is my mom at the mouth of Nity’s cave, running toward me. I don’t know if it’s my movement or the noise, but James startles awake too. He sits up so fast the rest of thered wool blanket slips to his hips. We share a single moment of confused panic passed wordlessly between us before my mom drops to her knees and squeezes me into a hug.
“Farren, I was so worried. You weren’t in the house and there was no sign of where you’d gone.”
“You’re all right,” Dad sighs, appearing above Mom before swooping us into a group embrace.
“I’m fine,” I tell them. “Nity’s hatchlings are fine.”
“Nity’s hatchlings?” Dad asks.
They both notice Oria at the same time they spot James sitting beside me because Oria has once again climbed James’s chest. All the precautions to not let him, a Murphy, learn this secret tumble back to memory.
James looks terrified as he thrusts out the hand not holding a baby dragon, like he needs to temper their anger. “This isn’t what it looks like. Farren and I—”
“It looks like you witnessed the birth of Rimbacks and that one’s keen on you.” Dad steps toward James.
James leans away, almost like… almost like he’s afraid.
“May I?” Dad asks.
It seems James doesn’t even realize he’s holding Oria, or Oria is holding him, until my father nods to the hatchling.
“Oh. Oh, yeah.” James slowly lifts Oria away from his neck and hands her to Dad. Her scales light up in silver, scared at this new person cradling her. But Nity heaves her way toward us all, presenting Zilar and Electrum.
Mom cries in delight as the boys scamper around her ankles.
“They’re healthy. Passed all their tests,” I insert, since I’m certain they’ll want to know everything about the last twenty-four hours.
“Of course they did. They’re strong,” Dad says, tears in his eyes as Oria presses her nose into his palm and her black scales return. I stand up and pet Oria’s spine. “This one needed her egg crafted open though.”
Dad understands at once. And those tears brimming along his eyes fall. “I’m so proud of you, my girl.” He side-hugs me, careful not to squish Oria.
“James helped too.”
“Thank you, James,” Dad tells him, sincerity dripping from the emotion in his voice.
James scrambles to his feet. “You’re not angry?” he asks, his own voice tilted in bewilderment.
Mom frowns first. Then her eyes swivel from the tangle of blankets, to James shirtless, and then to me, and who knows what I look like. Wait, no. I’m wearing James’s sweaterandpants. Last night I even took off the belt when I laid down, so I’m currently pulling the oversized cream sweater up onto my shoulder. “Did something else happen last night?” Mom asks.