CHAPTER ELEVEN

THREE TIMES, OUR HORSECARRE WAS STOPPED FOR inspection, thanks to the curfew, but the memorial invitations worked as waivers, and we continued through the quiet streets of Flamecrest. By the time we returned to the hotel, it was nearly midnight.

Tanhe waited up for us, like an anxious parent, and we answered a few of his questions—if the driver had been polite, what kind of food had been served at the Red Hall, and whether anyone noticed his emblem on the horsecarre and inquired about his business. Then we headed up to our suite, exhausted but giddy with the success of finding Nine.

I wasn’t even a step inside when LaLa launched herself in my direction with a happy screech, and Ilina scrambled to catch her.

“Wait until she gets changed,” my friend scolded. “We talked about this. The shop said we could sell the gown back if it’s in good condition, and sweet dragon weasels ruin nice things.”

LaLa let out an indignant squawk and puff of smoke.

“I don’t think she cares.” I smiled. There was something so good about seeing LaLa and Crystal every day, even though we were constantly cleaning up after them. Before LaLa exploded with the need to snuggle, I found one of the hotel robes and—with my gown safe beneath the heavy cotton—stretched out my arms for my dragon.

She shot toward me and gripped the robe while I petted her and admired all her scales.

Chenda ambled toward me, glancing at my right cheek to make sure her work had stayed in place. “Well,” she said, “how was it?”

“Not as fun as dragons.” I kissed LaLa’s nose.

“We found Nine,” Aaru said. “She’s mean.”

Zara half fell out of her chair. “You can talk!”

He cocked his head. “I did the other day.”

“But then you stopped again.” She turned her attention on me. “Did you see Mother? Did you talk to her? How is she? Does she look all right? Does she miss me?”

“Wait”—Chenda stood—“let’s hear about Nine first.”

“Or how you’re getting into the summit in the morning,” Gerel said.

When the questions faded, I perched on the arm of the sofa and recounted the highlights of the evening. LaLa continued clinging to my robe like some kind of affectionate burr, while Aaru stood just behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder in a warm declaration of support—and quick quiet code whenever I missed a detail someone would want, or put events out of order.

Zara sank deep in her chair when I confirmed that our father was dead, while Hristo grew still and quiet when I gave him the news about his. I pushed my own sadness aside again; there was no time to indulge my grief.

“Nothing on my father?” Ilina was hesitant. It must have felt so uncomfortable for her to ask for hope when she knew there was none for others.