Dervit yawned and added, “That sounds like a good idea to me.”
The four companions traveled back to the floor where they all parted ways to seek out their own quarters. Before closing the door to her own room, Jahrra was brought up short by Jaax’s voice.
“Jahrra,” he said.
Wondering what else her guardian might want to discuss, Jahrra stepped back out into the now deserted hallway. Her guardian studied her, one brow lowered over his eye, his head tilted slightly. Despite the muted light of the corridor, she felt rather exposed all of a sudden.
“I just wanted to reiterate how lovely you look tonight, and to thank you for speaking up on my behalf.”
Jahrra flushed slightly at the compliment, still not used to receiving them from her guardian.
“Thank you,” she managed. “But, you don’t need to thank me.” Then, she added with a smirk, “We’re a team, remember?”
Jaax smiled and nodded once, then turned to head for his own chambers.
“That we are. Good night,” he called over his shoulder.
As he left his ward standing in the hallway, the enchanted icicles above casting a soft blue glow over everything, Jaax couldn’t help but recall Dhuruhn’s words regarding her gown and the royal family of Oescienne.
He had not purposely asked the seamstresses for those colors; they had come up with them all on their own. Probably because they knew of his and Jahrra’s connection to the Coalition of Ethoes, and the rich moss green velvet complimented the colors in the silk underskirt so well. But the king had a point in his mentioning it, and when Jaax had first laid eyes on Jahrra earlier that evening, his heart had clenched. Because Dhuruhn was right: She looked every inch a queen of Oescienne, and Jaax had been startled by that realization. Was it a sign they would come out of this impending war triumphant? Or was it a reminder, a warning, to him alone?
The Tanaan dragon shook his head before his thoughts could spin further out of control. He doubted he would sleep well this night, but at least he could try. Their perilous journey would continue in a week, and he needed to get as much rest as possible before then. The dragon cast one final glance down the hall, to make sure Jahrra had made it safely into her room, then slipped through his own doorway with the determination to let his weariness take him.
The following week passed by faster than Jahrra expected. The morning after the grand dinner and uncomfortable introduction to the royal family of Nimbronia, Jahrra and Dervit went on a quest to find Pendric, Whinsey and Erron. After asking Saria and a few of the other attendants scurrying about doing their chores, they were finally directed to their friends’ quarters.
Whinsey was the one to open the door after Jahrra knocked, and her face lit up with joy upon seeing the young woman and the limbit.
“Oh, Jahrra! Dervit! It’s so good to see you. How are you?”
She held Jahrra at arm’s length, and gave Dervit a warm smile.
“We’re just fine, and you?”
Whinsey let loose a wistful sigh and welcomed them into the room. “Better than can be expected. Pendric is feeling more like his old self, and Erron seems to be taking this whole awful experience quite well.”
“Whinsey! Who’s here?”
Jahrra’s ears perked up at the sound of her trainer’s voice.
“It’s Jahrra and Dervit!” she called back.
The sound of someone moving around in another room carried through the apartment, and within moments, a door on the opposite wall swung open. Pendric stood there, his right side supported by a crutch, his left arm in a sling. His face was badly bruised, and a cut ran from the corner of his jaw down his neck.
Tears welled in Jahrra’s eyes the moment she saw him, and Dervit reached up to squeeze her wrist.
“Oh, Pendric. I’m so sorry!” she breathed.
The captain of Cahrdyarein’s guard gave her a sharp look. “Don’t you dare take the blame for any of this, Jahrra. This was all that traitorous rat’s doing. He deceived all of us.”
At the mention of Keiron, Jahrra’s tears burned away, suddenly replaced by that all too familiar pinch of anger and regret.
“Come inside and have tea with us, will you?” Whinsey offered, taking Jahrra’s arm and leading her to a couch.
Jahrra set aside her crutches, not needing them to move around in the small sitting room, and limped over to where Whinsey indicated. Dervit followed after her, and with a little bit of creative maneuvering, Pendric was able to join them as well.
“I owe your guardian a great deal of gratitude,” Pendric managed, after swallowing a large portion of his tea. “If not for him, I would have perished in Cahrdyarein.”
With the rest of my soldiers, Pendric didn’t say aloud, but the words were there, hanging in the air between them. Jahrra could feel it as strongly as she felt the pain in her heart each time she recalled Keiron’s betrayal. She wished, more than anything, she could wipe away Pendric’s own anguish, but she knew it was something he would have to come to terms with on his own, just as she had to come to terms with her own sorrows and regrets.
Setting her jaw, Jahrra glanced at the captain of the guard. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she matched it. She had begged Jaax to keep her friend alive, and he had followed through for her. She would never forget that. Because of him, Whinsey still had her husband, and Erron still had his father. That last thought made Jahrra realize she hadn’t seen the boy yet.
“Where’s Erron?” she asked, looking around their small suite.
Whinsey rolled her eyes good-naturedly and poured more tea for her husband. “He was out late with some of the neighbors’ children. Up on one of those dragon landing platforms watching stars. Apparently, there was a meteor shower last night.”
The mention of watching meteor showers made Jahrra think of Hroombra. What would he think of them all now? Would he be proud of her? Of Jaax? As Jahrra pondered everything they had done so far, she felt an ache grow in her chest. It wasn’t really a sad feeling, more of a regretful pang wrapped in a calm happiness. Yes. Hroombra would have been proud of both of them.
For the next several minutes, the four friends got caught up, trading their tales of their own escape from Cahrdyarein. Although some details were hard to discuss, they were all smiling and laughing by the time Jahrra and Dervit said their goodbyes.
“We’re leaving in a week, so if I don’t get a chance to say goodbye ...”
Jahrra let her voice trail off, and Whinsey pulled her into a fierce embrace.
“We will be thinking of you, Jahrra. I’ll always be grateful to you and Jaax for what you did for my family.”
Jahrra nodded, sniffling back impending tears.
“Will you stay here, then?” Dervit asked.
Pendric nodded at him, a bit of sorrow coloring his features. “We cannot go back to Cahrdyarein, it is lost. At least, not until the war with the Crimson King is over.”
He looked up at Jahrra, his pale eyes serious. “I wish I could accompany you and Jaax, Jahrra, but I will not be healed in time.”
“And,” Whinsey cut in, moving closer to her husband as she ran her hands over her swollen stomach, “your family needs you here. I’m sorry, Jahrra.”
Jahrra shook her head vigorously. “No. I would not want you to come with us,” she insisted.
Pendric gave her a small smile as he pulled Whinsey close to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “When I am well again, I will see if King Dhuruhn needs anyone in his guard. Perhaps, I can work my way up to captain’s position once again.”
Jahrra beamed at that. “If I get a chance to mention it, I’ll put in a good word for you. Although, the king of the Creecemind isn’t too impressed by me, I’m afraid.”