Allie and Graham had spoken for him, but he knew Charlie’d been the main reason the aunties had let him stay in the MidRealm when he turned fifteen. Charlie’d planted her feet, folded her arms, swept a disdainful gaze around a full circle of twelve aunties, and pointed out that the three Calgary aunties had as much as declared him Wild when they let him go east with her. However, she’d continued, as nine of you weren’t there at the time . . . She then reminded them that while there’d occasionally been sorcerers—hunted down and destroyed when discovered—there’d never been a Dragon Prince in the family before. That made him unique. Unique, Charlie’d insisted, had always meant Wild, so unless they were going to start changing the way the family functioned, that meant Jack was Wild.

At that point Allie’d muttered something about all cats not being named Socrates. That had seemed so obvious Jack had ignored her, his attention on Charlie. He still wasn’t sure if it had been her argument or her power that had finally convinced them—only Auntie Gwen had been overtly on his side—but after two days and three hundred and forty-seven cups of tea and sixteen pies—dragons liked to keep track of things—they’d decided he could stay. With the understanding that should he become a sorcerer instead of merely using sorcery, they’d hunt him down like any other Gale male and then he’d wish they’d sent him back to the UnderRealm. Jack had recognized a sincere threat when he heard one; he’d had plenty of practice. His uncles, the Dragon Lords, had never made a threat they didn’t fully intend to carry out. They didn’t always succeed; he was still alive after all, but they took their shot.

He’d expected that once he’d been recognized as an adult Gale that he and Charlie would be a . . . thing. Team. That he’d travel with her when she left. That hadn’t happened. She’d traveled alone, like always. When he’d asked to go with her, she’d looked at him like she’d never seen him before and said no.

Well, actually, she’d said, “I’m a musician, Jack, I travel for gigs. What would you do if you came with me?”

But when the ashes were sifted, she meant no.

He’d tried to learn to play the bass. According to the internet, a bass player and a guitar player could form a band. A small band, but a band. Unfortunately, it turned out dragons had zero musical ability. Or maybe it was just him. He wasn’t feeling quite bummed enough to go back to his uncles and ask.