A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania 2)

But not to the point of where I knew I was being judged for something I really had no control over.

As if he could read my mind, Ruv said, “They don’t hate you. Not really.”

“That’s not as assuring as you think it is,” I muttered as we made our way through the crowd.

He shrugged. “They just don’t understand, I suppose.”

“Understand what?”

“You. Your heritage. The choices made. You are not your mother, but you come from her. She left the roma. Or, more formally, the vitsa. The clan.”

“She left because she loved.”

“And some think she should have loved her people more.”

“Really,” I said. “Because that doesn’t seem fair.”

“Why?”

“Because it shouldn’t be either or. You shouldn’t have to give up one for the other.”

“But life is choices,” Ruv said. “And what is love but a choice? You love your unicorn. And your half-giant. What if the choice came between them or your parents? Who would you choose?”

“Easy,” I said, curling my lip. “I would fight the person forcing me to make a choice.”

“Violence.” Ruv shook his head. “It’s not always the answer.”

“No, but it sure feels good to kick a villain’s ass.”

“And Ryan?”

“What about him?” I asked, tone flat.

“If it came down to saving his life—”

“I would fight the person forcing me to make a choice,” I repeated.

Ruv grinned at me. “You care for him.”

As if there was any doubt. Ryan was a pain in my ass, and I in his (literally), but I wouldn’t change a godsdamned thing about it. Except for him being a jerk right now. And the fact that I was probably also being a jerk.

“Ah,” Ruv said. “How fortunate.”

“I don’t get you,” I admitted.

“You don’t know me,” he said, leading us away from the market. The noise of the crowd behind us gave way to the creaking of the walkway under our feet, the lap of the water beneath the city. The buildings that rose around us cast the path in shadow. It was cooler here.

“And I’m not going to. Not like Vadoma wants.”

“What Vadoma wants is to help the world survive.”

I snorted. Because that sounded terrible. “She also wants you and me to get funky.”

He laughed brightly. Even I could admit it was a nice sound. “Yes. There is that. Funky.” The word sounded strange from him, like he was tasting it for the first time. “She spoke of you. Often.”

“She doesn’t know me.”

“Perhaps not. But her blood is in your veins.”