Chase was looking worried, glancing around as if he’d lost something. “She’s not here. John, don’t tell me you let her slip away again.”
They couldn’t see her, shielded from view as she was behind John’s tall form. It was a novelty to be able to hide behind someone. John’s hand reached behind his back, opening toward her in silent inquiry.
He remembered that I hate to be stared at. If I want him to, he’ll protect me, get me away from all this attention…
Nonetheless, Neridia took his hand, allowing John to draw her forward. Chase started violently as she stepped into view, as if she’d appeared out of thin air.
“How are you doing that?” the pegasus shifter demanded of her.
Neridia shrank back from his outburst. “I’m not doing anything.”
“But-but-you aren’t there.” Chase pulled at his curly hair, staring at her somewhat wild-eyed. “I can see you, but you aren’t there! Is nobody else bothered by this? Is it just me?”
The auburn-haired bridesmaid, who Neridia guessed had to be Chase’s mate, firmly took the champagne glass from the pegasus shifter’s other hand. “And that’s enough alcohol for you, evidently.”
“Hello again,” Griff said to Neridia with a warm smile. “I’m glad you decided to come. This is Hayley, my wife.” He lingered on my wife, clearly savoring the words. “Hayley, this is-“
“This is the treasure of my heart.” John’s deep voice was very quiet, but every word rang like some great, solemn church bell. “This is the moon to the sea of my soul. Pearl-bearer, hope-carrier, burdened but unbowed. This is my lady Neridia, who bridges worlds with a touch, whose courage I cannot capture in speech nor song.”
“Um,” Neridia said, into the echoing silence that followed. “Hi?”
John turned to address Griff and Chase, his words coming slower now, as if he was having to force each one out. “And if ever I have served you, if ever I have earned your friendship, I beg that you will grant me one last boon. If ever she is in need, come to her call. Protect her, as I cannot.”
The breath froze in Neridia’s lungs. She felt as if a great weight of water crushed her down, squeezing her chest.
He’s leaving. This is goodbye. Forever.
“Well, yes, of course we—wait, what?” Chase cut off his apparently automatic agreement. “John, you can’t be serious. You’re still intent on leaving?”
Rather than answer Chase, John looked down at Neridia. “The dance is over.” All music drained from his tone, leaving his voice as bleached and bare as washed-up bones. “And you are human again, and I still am not. I do not have the strength to bear this further. Please. Release me. Let me go home.”
She wanted to cling to his hand. Every part of her soul cried out to keep hold of him, to never let go. But she could not deny the truth in his words. She could not ignore the agony in the depths of his indigo eyes.
Slowly, she opened her fingers, and let him go.
Chapter 9
“Wait,” Griff said suddenly.
John’s back was already turned. Face hidden, he squeezed his eyes tight shut for a moment, fighting for control. His fists clenched, blunt human fingernails digging into his palms. His true shape pressed tight against the underside of his skin.
No more delays. No more. I will break if I do not return to my t
rue self soon. This form is too weak, too frail, to bear this pain. I need to lock away my heart behind the armor of my scales.
“The time for words has passed, oath-brother,” he said without looking round. “Farewell.”
“Wait,” Griff repeated. He grabbed John’s arm, forcing him to pause. “You still owe me a life-debt. I’m calling it in.”
The sheer affront of it nearly blinded him with sudden rage. He jerked himself free of the griffin shifter’s grip. “I have done you service after service-!“
“Yes, and I have tried time and time again to persuade you that we’re even, and you have never accepted.” Griff met his glare without flinching. “Not even that last time, with Danny and Hayley—you said it didn’t count, because I’d turned out not to need your help after all. Were you lying, all this time? Is the debt paid?”
John made himself breath deeply, twice, in and out, before he could trust himself to speak. “I am a Knight-Poet of the First Water, vowed to candor. I never lie. The debt is not paid.”
It was the deepest gesture of trust a sea dragon could make, to refuse to allow a life-debt to be repaid. It was laying your throat bare to your oath-brother’s blade, confident that he would never use the weapon you had handed him. He’d thought Griff understood that.
I am a fool. Of course no dry-lander can ever truly comprehend our ways.