“But . . .” Mina began. She’d planned on having him in her room just like when he was in the egg. Gaton had had Arde sleep at the foot of his bed until he grew too big to fit through the bedroom doors. And Orli still sometimes took naps in the living room, especially in the winter, to be closer to Papa. She hogged the whole couch.

“He’s not an indoor beast,” Mother said.

“Then I’ll sleep outside with him,” Mina said. New guardians were supposed to be with their beasts as much as possible. It was good for their bond.

“You’ll sleep in your bed,” Mother said firmly. “You need your rest.”

“And besides, sweetie, we don’t want you getting too attached,” Papa said.

That made no sense. She’d been bonding to Pixit for two years, talking to his egg for at least three hours a day, creating this telepathic link. She didn’t think it was possible to be more attached than they already were. But she didn’t argue. Pixit?

Tucking his tail between his legs, Pixit slunk to the hearth and curled up on the flagstones. Only a few sparks popped into the fireplace.

Sorry, Pixit. One battle at a time, okay? When you were quiet, you had to choose your battles carefully, or else you wouldn’t win any. And Mother did have a point. Certainly her family wouldn’t like Pixit more if he accidentally set the house on fire. Maybe when you can control the sparks better, they’ll let you stay in my room.

Out loud, she said, “Um, Mother? Papa?”

Mother waved an applesauce-encrusted spoon toward Mina. “We’ll talk in a bit, after the afternoon mail comes.” She’d finally gotten Beon to sit and was trying to feed him before escape attempt number three hundred forty-seven.

Mina looked at the letter, then at Mother and Papa feeding the twins.

Then she looked at Pixit, his shining eyes full of hope and trust.

She felt her resolve harden. There wasn’t anything to discuss. I don’t have to tell them, she realized, not with my own words. The letter was clear. She had already won this battle. Her parents just didn’t know it yet. Starting tomorrow, we won’t be apart, she promised Pixit.

Happy, he thumped his tail on the hearth, scattering sparks.

Mina positioned the letter on the table where her parents were certain to see it, and she hurried upstairs to pack. Since her family wasn’t listening to her, the letter would speak for her.

She met Gaton on the stairs. He was carrying an armload of shell bits, cradled in quilts. “Your room looks different without the egg,” he told her.