But Ari wasn’t the only one to consider—there was also his Drake.
I remembered it looking out at me from his eyes when they went pure gold, remembered the almost hungry feeling I got from it when I sensed it in the Drake’s Den with us. It wanted me—wanted me badly.
I just didn’t know why.
“I’m…not quite sure,” I said in a low voice, in answer to Avery’s question. “I mean, he seems to really care for me. He calls me his, uh, his L’lorna, anyway.”
“His what?” Megan asked, frowning. She and Griffin were seated across from me as usual while Emma was on my right side and Avery was at the head of the table.
Speaking of Avery, it was clear he knew exactly what the term meant.
“Oh my Goddess, did he?” he cried, his eyes going wide with excitement.
“Yes, he did.” I couldn’t help smiling at his expression of rapture. Avery is such a hopeless romantic, he’ll lecture you on the proper structure of the classical Rom-Com or debate Darcy versus Bingley all night, if you let him. And he’s always cheering his friends’ romances on—I just hoped that one day he would get one of his own.
“What? What does yuh-lorne-ahh mean?” Emma asked, wide-eyed.
“It means beloved or dear little one,” Griffin answered, surprising me. “It is what Drake males often call their fated-mates.”
I looked at the tall Nocturne in surprise.
“How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “Fifteen years of exile—I had plenty of time to read.”
“Oh, okay.” I nodded.
“So that’s really what it means? He’s basically claimed you as his fated-mate?” Megan asked. “Oh Kaitlyn, I knew you two were going to get together!”
“Perhaps you should hold your congratulations for a time,” Griffin said quietly, studying my face. “I do not believe anyone has asked Kaitlyn how she feels about being claimed.”
“I…don’t know, honestly,” I admitted in a low tone. “I mean, Ari is wonderful. But, well, he’s not the only one I have to consider. He kind of comes with a lot of baggage.”
“If you mean his Drake, you’re going to have to get over that,” Avery told me. “You can’t separate a Drake from his Drake—it’s just not possible. They’re a package deal.”
“I know that!” I said, frowning. “I never said I wanted to separate them. It’s just, well, that thing living inside him is huge. It picked me up with one hand or claw or whatever you want to call it. And Ari says it wants to meet me.”
“That would be a non-negotiable part of being bonded to a Drake,” Griffin said dryly. “Otherwise it would be like having a three-way marriage and attempting to exclude one of the partners.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to be in a three-way marriage!” I exclaimed. “Especially not with a fire-breathing dragon!”
“That’s the problem, right there,” Emma said. “It’s the fire-breathing part, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I hung my head, feeling like a coward. But was it really cowardly to not want to meet a creature bigger than a T-rex who had razor sharp teeth, foot-long talons, and could breathe fire?
Yes it is, whispered a scolding little voice in my head. And you’re going to have to face your fear sooner or later, Kaitlyn. You heard what Avery said—you can’t have one without the other.
I probably can’t have Ari anyway, I thought with a little sigh. There was no way his parents—if they really were the rulers of the Drake people—were going to want a human-turned-Nocturne as a daughter-in-law.
And of course, I was only sixteen, which is way too early to be thinking about marriage anyway. Probably Ari would get tired of me after a while and move on. Though who I would get blood from at that point, I didn’t know. But really—
My pessimistic thoughts were interrupted by a shimmering soap bubble, about three feet in diameter, which had suddenly come drifting over to hover right above our table. It was about as big as one of those large exercise balls you see in gyms and its surface was a shifting rainbow of swirling colors.
“What in the world?” Emma muttered, staring up at it.
“Where did it come from?” Megan asked. “And how is it not popping? It’s huge!”
“Hush,” Avery whispered. “It’s magic, can’t you tell? It’s a ‘happy-gram’— I haven’t seen one since I was a little kid.”
“A what?” I asked, frowning.
“A happy-gram. It’s a really childish, beginner spell you teach to magically precocious kids to keep them busy—you can send little pieces of news or pretty pictures to give somebody a smile. That’s why it’s called a happy-gram,” he explained. “I used to send hundreds of these things—my poor mom was bombarded with them.” He looked around. “I wonder who could have sent it? It has to be one of the Sisters.”
“And look—every table has one.” Emma pointed to the four long tables at the head of the Dining Hall where the Drakes, the Faes, the Sisters, and the Nocturnes were seated. Almost every one of them was staring at the giant-sized soap bubbles that had suddenly come out of nowhere to hover in the air over their tables.