The other stone flowerbed held six young trees. She remembered seeing them the first time Neira pointed the patio out to her but she had never bothered to explore since. Their branches were still spangled in buds but many of the flowers were faded, some even beginning to transform into tiny fruit.
Setting her work aside for the moment, Jahrra stood and reached her fingers out to touch the smooth bark. The bracelet on her left hand tingled and she glanced down only to notice that the rune on one of the beads glowed brightly. The Apple wood bead. Jahrra grinned. She thought these trees might be apples, but she wondered why Jaax had planted them here. Did dragons like apples? Maybe Neira preferred them and had convinced him to plant them. Shrugging, Jahrra plopped back down on the stone bench and submerged herself into her work.
That evening by the fire she asked her guardian about the trees.
“Those are apple trees planted up on the deck, aren’t they?”
The Tanaan dragon looked up from the book he was reading, something large with a dark leather cover. He arched an eyebrow and his mouth worked in a reluctant grin. Jahrra stifled a mental laugh. She suspected that most of Jaax’s moments of good humor were stifled. He couldn’t afford to seem too gleeful with the life he led.
“They are,” he answered. “Do you like them?”
Jahrra blinked then shrugged. “Of course, I love apples, but you make it sound as if you planted them for me.”
That thought was ridiculous. They didn’t look newly planted. In fact, they looked as if they had happily lived in that garden box since they were seedlings. If they had been saplings when they were first planted, they were now at least ten years old. No, Jaax was just asking, in his own way, how Jahrra was settling in. She tried to hide the slight flush on her face by brushing her hair to the side and reaching for her teacup.
The dragon pushed aside his book and gave her a serious look. “I had those trees planted several years ago. Seedlings taken from your foster father’s apple orchard.”
Jahrra felt as if Torrell had just kicked her in the stomach. She choked on the tea she had been sipping and cast Jaax a very surprised look.
“You’re joking,” she managed, her voice very quiet.
Jaax merely shook his head. “I suspected you might one day end up here and I wanted to establish something from Oescienne that might make you feel more at home.”
Jahrra’s head was spinning. She thought of the tapestries up in her room, how they were scenes from home, and now the apple trees. She looked back up at Jaax. His gaze seemed wary, as if he expected her to throw her teacup into the fire and bolt towards the door. She took a few breaths. Why was she so surprised? Jaax and Hroombra had known from the beginning what she was; of course they would plan everything out in advance. But for Jaax to take the extra effort to make her feel at home, to feel comforted? To feel safe? She had been so used to his disdain for so long, or what she had translated as disdain, that it was hard to accept this new and improved version of him. Besides, it was an incredibly thoughtful thing to do and she had no idea how to react to his kindness.
The fire crackled and spit sparks as a log fell into the embers below it. Slowly, Jahrra set her teacup down and closed her eyes. When she opened them she was ashamed to feel tears in them.
With a shaky voice she said, “Thank you, Jaax.”
She didn’t dare look at him.
He merely rumbled, “You’re welcome, Jahrra.”
Several minutes passed before she looked up. He was reading his book once again. And just like that, they submersed themselves in the comfortable silence once more.
An hour later Jahrra was done reading her own book for school, a particularly dull tale of dwarves and their discovery of mining. She stood and stretched, wondering what they would be doing in her wildlife class tomorrow. Anthar had told his students they would need long pants and heavy boots. Jahrra hoped they were going to hike one of the several trails that twined up the still-wild hills scattered around the city.
Jahrra called a goodnight to Jaax but before she escaped the common room he called her back.
“Tomorrow after your classes, I’d like you to meet me in the great room of the library.”
Jahrra blinked. “Am I to finally meet all the members of the Coalition?”
Jaax smiled, his sharp teeth glittering in the firelight. They had been in Lidien for more than a month but he still hadn’t taken her to one of his weekly Coalition meetings. Jahrra suspected he might be stalling but she couldn’t say for what purpose. If she was being honest with herself she would admit to being glad of it. She was terrified of meeting all those people who wished to someday rise against the Crimson King with her as their beacon. Would they be disappointed in her?
“No, not the entire Coalition, just a single member,” Jaax finally said.
Would that be it then? Introduced to one affiliate at a time? Jahrra thought that was a great idea.
She nodded her agreement then dashed up the stairs, thinking about her classes tomorrow and who she might be meeting this time.
The next morning Jahrra and Senton found themselves tolerating their history class with little patience. Once again, the subject was known to Jahrra and it took all her willpower not to get up, feign illness, and leave. Senton, she had learned over the past few weeks, seemed to have a slight aversion to lectures on the whole. Several times during the morning she would glance over at him and catch his eyes drooping as his chin rested on his hand. More often than not Jahrra had to stifle a giggle before elbowing him awake.
After what seemed like ages, the morning’s class was finally over and she and Senton crossed the campus together. The two friends eventually parted ways as Jahrra sought her next class, waving a farewell to Senton as he joined a group of students playing a game on one of the University’s many sprawling lawns. They agreed to meet for lunch outside Carlhoren House just before noon.
Jahrra barely made it through her math class without passing out on top of her desk but only ten minutes or so after escaping the land of numbers and confusing formulas, she was sitting on a small patch of grass beside the creek bridge amidst the small forest near the stone cabin. Senton had been waiting for her and before long the two friends were chatting and throwing bread crust into the water for the fish and crawdads.
Jahrra and Senton finished their lunches and as the time for their wilderness class drew near, they closed the distance between their patch of lawn and the cabin. They were the first at the door but right behind them followed Dathian, his arms, as usual, full of scrolls and small tomes.
The aloof elf piqued Jahrra’s curiosity. For quite some time now she’d been trying to figure out what was so familiar about him. It was only until the week before that she realized what it was. He resembled, to some extent, Yaraa and Viornen. The same pointed ears, the same graceful build. Even the slight, olive tone to his skin was similar to theirs.
One of the many books Dathian was carrying suddenly slipped from his grasp, taking many others with it. Sighing deeply, he put aside his scrolls and bent to gather the mess at his feet. Jahrra and Senton walked over to help and the elf grinned, pushing his glasses back onto his nose and thanking them.
Jahrra glanced at the book she was holding out to him. The Genealogy of the House of Dhonoara it read.
“Dhonoara!” she cried before thinking.
Dathian snatched the book away a little more aggressively than was polite. Jahrra blinked in surprise.
His face had paled and he mumbled in his scholarly voice, “Yes, ‘tis a valley in the east. I have some interest in it.”