She stopped and stared for what seemed like a long time.
He lowered his head and blew a steaming breath.
“I’ve been waiting,” he said.
18
She almost hated to cross the border again, now that they knew about her and were watching. But she did, running straight across the log before she could change her mind. Artegal lowered his head so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck back to see him. It felt as if years had passed, and she didn’t know what to say. She’d wanted just to leave the note, like calling someone specifically to leave a message rather than talk to them. But she was so relieved to see him. She had so much to tell him—so much to ask about what had happened, what the dragons were doing. Her throat closed; she could hardly breathe.
“Are you well?” he asked. The first thing he’d ever said to her, months ago. What a strange question now.
“No,” she said, and started crying. Stumbling almost, she sat on the ground and buried her face in her arms. All this week, she hadn’t cried. It came out now, all at once. Each time she tried to stop, to pull herself together, to talk to him, she choked, and the crying started all over again.
She felt a warm breeze, air smelling of iron and embers. Artegal hovered over her, a worried purr sounding deep in his throat.
“So much has happened,” she said, blubbering the words.
“Yes.”
She scrubbed her face. They had to talk, and they didn’t have much time before her mother started worrying.
“They know about us,” she said. “They—the military—got pictures, and they were looking, and I finally just came out and told them because, because…”
“Because of the attack. The fire,” he said calmly. Not that he was ever anything but calm.
“Are you okay?” she said. She realized she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep secrets anymore, and she couldn’t be a spy. The only way she could get the information was to come out and ask him what Branigan wanted to know, and then tell Artegal that the military wanted the information.
He didn’t answer right away. Kay’s heart sped up. She wondered if things would ever be the same after all this, if they would ever fly again. Already the few times they’d flown together seemed like a memory from another life.
“Some elders say this was inevitable. That people and dragons could never live together. That war is inevitable.” The words sounded like an avalanche in his throat. “Some want to talk. But they are afraid.”
“I can’t imagine you ever being afraid of us,” she said, looking up at him, as large as a bus, so powerful. “That’s why the military’s doing what it’s doing, because it’s afraid of you. They think they have to do this, before you do.”
Artegal sighed. “I wish dragons had remained in hiding.”
For a fierce, angry moment, so did she. Everything would be normal. She’d be talking with Jon and Tam about prom, college applications, and only one more year ’til graduation, and her father would still be here, and everything would be normal if the dragons hadn’t come back. She wouldn’t miss the flying because she wouldn’t know that she should.
She started crying again.
“You’re angry. At me,” he said. This time, she couldn’t read the curl on his lip, the arc to his brow. She’d been able to read curious, amused, confused, glad. But not this.
“The fire—my dad.” Don’t say the words, something in her cried. Don’t say it, don’t make it true. Find a different way to tell him. “I lost my dad.”
He tilted his head—the confused look. After a long silence, though, he lowered his head nearly to the ground. Almost, she was looking down on him.
“Tragedy?” he said, as if confused, seeking confirmation for the vague way she’d told him.
She hid her face again. He waited for her to collect herself and reemerge.
“It was a warning,” he said. “To show that we are not afraid. The elders did not think your people would be so quick to reply.”
“So you knew about it,” she said. “You knew it was going to happen.” And you didn’t stop it, you didn’t warn me, you didn’t say anything.
“Not before. After. I almost told them about you. To persuade them not to do it again, if I could.”
“Could you? Would they have listened?” The human military finding out about her and Artegal hadn’t stopped the bombings. Branigan was driven; he had plans, or else he wouldn’t have wanted to her to spy.
Artegal didn’t say anything, so she knew the answer was no. “Now it’s too big to stop,” she said.
“And yet, you risked coming here. I hoped you might. I did not think you would.” He tilted his head—glancing up, she realized. He’d been glancing up every minute or so, looking for aircraft or dragons.
She told him, “They want me to spy. They keep bombing, but they don’t know where to go. They don’t know exactly where you live, and they want me to find out. I’m supposed to spy.”
“Surely they’re watching now.”
Scrambling, she stood and looked around, through all the trees, upward to the crisp blue sky. The forest was very quiet. She only heard Artegal breathing, like a whisper of air through the trees.
They could be anywhere. Soldiers hiding in the trees, waiting to strike. They wouldn’t kill him, she quickly thought. They wanted to talk, they wanted contact with them, that was what they’d told her. But they might try to capture him.
And what if they did? Wouldn’t everyone say that she was supposed to want revenge? Shouldn’t she be feeling angry?
Her father used to say that his job wasn’t about catching the bad guys so much as keeping the peace, that he got further by being friends with people than by being a hard-ass, that if the people in his jurisdiction felt like he was their friend, they wouldn’t want to break the law. They wouldn’t want to disappoint him, not because he was the sheriff, but because he was their friend.
Her mind moved quickly, turning over everything her father had said, any advice he may have given her about this. Also, what her mother said, about taking care of herself rather than worrying about the rest of the world. And what the military said, about staying out of jail and doing her duty. But she kept going back to what her father said about keeping the peace.
And she realized that the military wanted to keep her a secret. They hadn’t released the photos or news that Kay and Artegal had flown together because they didn’t want anyone to know that a person and a dragon could work together, could be friends. But if people knew, if they saw—
“What are you thinking?” Artegal watched her. She’d frozen, standing still, staring at nothing as she pondered.
“Can you come back tomorrow?” she asked.
“If I am careful, yes.”
“We need to fly again,” she said.
He snorted. His eyes widened, and he raised his head—a gesture of surprise. “It won’t stay secret.”
“We don’t want it to. We want everyone to see. That means the military can’t keep it secret, either. We want everyone to see it. Your people, my people, everyone.”
He thought for a moment. A back claw scratched a furrow in the earth. “Dangerous for us.”
It was. She couldn’t pretend that it wouldn’t be. She’d get in trouble with her people, he’d get in trouble with his. They may never see each other again. But it seemed worth it, just to show people what they could do.
She felt insane when she grinned and said, “Yeah, but if we don’t, we’ll always wonder if we could have made a difference.”
He made the curl in his lip that meant he was smiling. “For all their long years, dragons are not so daring.”
“Then you think we shouldn’t—”
“I will be here tomorrow. Take care.”
“You too.” He was already backing up, turning his bulk through the trees as he slipped away. She waited until she couldn’t see him before she ran back.