by Kallysten
He’d gone back twice since she’d struck him both inside and outside her mind. Both times, he’d been very careful not to change her surroundings and not to impose his will upon hers. She hadn’t lashed out at him again, but that was the best that could be said about the situation. He’d tried to talk to her, addressing in turns the dragon and the little girl, but while the dragon sometimes looked like she was listening to him, he’d yet to elicit any kind of answer from either of Marigold’s forms.
As he approached the school, he could see already that the kids were out in the yard. As he slowed down to a walk, he couldn’t help but smile. The administrators in his old school district had been less than open to ‘wasting’ any class time by allowing students to have recess; he was glad that the schools here had a different philosophy. He missed teaching and hoped he’d be able to go back to it soon, but what he was doing right now, saving Marigold from her inner demons, was more important—and not only because she was his mate.
Walking by the fence, he couldn’t help but notice the girl who’d been so friendly to his brother—Isa, wasn’t it? She sat in the same place as before, alone once more. He was fairly surprised when she stood and leaned against the fence, looking straight at him.
“Hello,” he called out toward her. “How are you, kiddo?”
“Idris isn’t with you today,” she replied. “Why not?”
He came a little closer so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice to talk to her.
“He left Sanctuary yesterday,” he told her. “They’re on a mission.”
Her expression turned very grim even as she asked in a small voice, “Is he going to be okay?”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Chris said, and hoped with all his heart he was right.
Idris hadn’t said much about this mission, only that it’d take a few days. Chris almost wished he hadn’t even known Idris was leaving Sanctuary, so he wouldn’t have worried about him.
“What are the flowers for?” she asked after a few seconds.
Chris looked at the few flowers in his hand as he answered. A couple looked a little the worse for wear; maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to pick flowers while jogging.
“They’re for a friend of mine,” he said a little absently. “She’s… not feeling very well. I thought some flowers would brighten her room.”
Isa’s eyes came back to his face. Chris barely managed to refrain touching the scratches that were only now fading away.
“What happened to you?”
“My friend had a bad day,” he replied with a self-conscious shrug.
Isa didn’t answer, but she turned away to look around the school yard.
“Wait,” she said, then ran off to the other end of the yard, where tall, bright yellow wildflowers grew along a wall. She picked a few of them before running back to Chris. “Here. For your friend.”
He accepted the flowers with a smile and a word of thanks. Just then, the bell rang, announcing the end of recess. Isa gave him a little wave of her hand before stepping in line with her peers.
Even as he was about to start walking away, he saw a middle-aged woman approach the fence. She was probably a teacher, or an administrator, and he could already imagine that she had questions about a strange man approaching a child on school grounds like this. He waited for her. Leaving now would only appear more suspicious. But how was he supposed to explain the child had approached him, not the other way around? It would no doubt sound like he was protesting too much.
The woman’s expression, however, remained pleasant as she held out her hand over the fence for him to shake and introduced herself.
“Hi. I’m Miss Pulks. I’m the fifth grade teacher here.”
“Chris Serden,” he said as he shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I believe you were just talking to one of my students.”
Chris internally cringed as he prepared for veiled warnings. What she said next however startled him.
“Was she actually talking back to you? The reason I’m asking is that she doesn’t talk to anyone. Not me, not any of the other students, and not to the staff at the foster home, I’ve heard. We’ve tried everything to get her to open up, but…” She spread her hands out to show her lack of result. “And it’s the second time I’ve seen her talking to you.”
“Actually, the first time she was talking to my brother,” Chris offered with a thin smile. “I don’t know her well at all. My brother helped get her out of the jail, and she was only asking me about him.”
“I see,” Miss Pulks said slowly, glancing back toward the school. “Well, it’s nice to know she has a friend at least.”
As she excused herself to go back to her students, Chris couldn’t help but wonder if she’d meant he was her friend, or Idris was. He certainly didn’t know the child enough to call himself her friend, and while as a teacher he’d been friendly to his students, he’d always been very conscious of keeping some distance between him and his charges, lest he might open himself up to scrutiny. Nothing could have revealed inappropriate behavior from him, but he’d always been wary of people finding out he was a para—and his imprisonment had proved his wariness had been more than warranted. But Isa wasn’t his student, was she? And if she truly didn’t speak at all with anyone else, then those few moments talking to him or Idris might mean a lot to her.
As he started jogging again, holding the flowers close to their blooms so they wouldn’t flop too much and get damaged, he resolved to stop and talk to her every time he passed this way if the students were outside when he did. Even a few words with him now and then might help Isa communicate better with others.
Kit was studying in the kitchen as usual when Chris arrived at the cottage. She took the flowers from him, promising to find a vase for them, and not too subtly asked if he needed to refresh himself. So maybe he was a little more sweaty than strictly appropriate in polite company. Maybe next time he’d stick to biking at a leisurely pace.
When he came out after refreshing himself, he walked down to Marigold’s room, stopping where Kit stood on the threshold with a look of shock and wonder on her face. Kit had already set the vase and its flowers on the small table, and Marigold was right there, standing next to the table, her face against the soft petals as she took in deep breaths.
“She stood on her own while I was walking out,” Kit murmured. “I’ve put flowers in her room before, but she never did this. She never seemed to notice them or anything. What’s so special about these?”
“I don’t know,” Chris murmured back.
Could he maybe have stumbled onto her favorite flowers purely by accident? Could one of these have triggered something in her memory, maybe? There was only one way to find out.
Stepping inside the room, he went to Marigold and laid a hand on her bare arm, being as unobtrusive as he knew how to be. In the real world, she didn’t react to his presence at all, but as soon as he entered the now familiar landscape of her inner thoughts, the dragon focused on him.
She usually did, so he was used to the unsettling feeling of having the attention of such a large, dangerous beast, but even so he experienced some trepidation when rather than watching him from a distance, the dragon came forward toward him, her steps heavy, her wings folded back but seemingly ready to deploy. Her head remained low, and soon it was only an arm’s length away, then even closer still, sniffing Chris from head to toes and back.
His awareness split for a few seconds, so that he could see both what was happening here, in her thoughts, and what was going on in the real world. There, Marigold had stopped breathing in the scent of the flowers, and instead she’d raised her arm so she could sniff Chris’ hand where it clutched her forearm, the same way her dragon form was sniffing him here. Could it be that she was smelling the flowers on him? That seemed doubtful as he’d just washed his hands. Besides, surely the scent of the flowers wouldn’t transfer to the world of her thoughts, would it?
He was holding still, wondering
what was going on exactly when the dragon nudged him hard with her muzzle, pushing him backward until he fell on his ass. She loomed over him, suddenly even more imposing as her wings deployed behind her. Her mouth opened, exposing enough teeth that fear burst through him and he reacted instinctively.
With just a thought, he created a bubble of light around himself, pushing the dragon back. He felt safer this way, but as he’d expected his disruption of Marigold’s inner world did not please her in the least. She let out a roar that reverberated all the way down to his bones. When she batted at the ball with a talons-tipped paw and couldn’t break through, she roared again, louder still.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, pushing back to his feet and showing his empty hands to her through the bubble. “You’re scaring me right now, so this is just to keep myself safe. I’m here to help, not—”
He flinched as she roared again, her mouth so close to the bubble that it looked like she would try to bite it. He thought about retreating out of her mind as it seemed he wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything today, but as she roared yet again, he thought he heard… yes, those were words within the roar. The first words he’d heard her utter since he’d started entering her mind, and now that he could hear them he barely noticed the roar at all anymore.
“Where is she?” she demanded, rage and pain filling the words. “What did you do with her? Give her back! Don’t hurt her!”
It only took him a second to realize who she was talking about: the little girl. That other form of herself she always kept close to her, and safe. He’d been so wary of the dragon since entering her mind that he hadn’t noticed the little girl was gone. What could it possibly mean?
“I don’t have her,” he said, his hands still palms out toward her. “I don’t know where she is, but I’d never hurt her, I swear. I’d never hurt you. I only want to help you. Help both of you.”
For a brief, beautiful moment, he thought she was listening, thought he was getting through to her. She was watching him closely with those intense, golden eyes, and he wanted to believe she could see him for what he was: her ally, her friend if she would allow it, her mate because the tattoos on their arms made it so.
She gave no warning before breathing out a long jet of fire straight at him.
The fire couldn’t hurt him, not when he was in his protective bubble and not as long as he remembered that everything here was a product of her thoughts, nothing more, and he could counter it with his own thoughts. Just the same, the experience rattled him, maybe because he’d had such high hopes for a moment. With those hopes that he’d be able to talk to her at last reduced to ashes, he drew back from her mind—
—only to find silent tears streaming down the cheeks of the real-world Marigold.
His hand dropped from her arm and for a moment he could only stare at her, confused and aching to see her in pain. Was it his fault? Had he done or said something to create this reaction from her?
Kit must have remained by the door the entire time, because she now walked in and gently guided Marigold back to her bed. With tissues plucked from a box on a nearby shelf, she dried Marigold’s cheeks—not that it did much good as she was still crying. Even as Kit drew the sheet up over her, Marigold closed her eyes, but tears continued to seep from beneath her eyelids.
“Come on,” Kit said quietly, pressing her hand to Chris’ back to guide him out of the room. “Let’s leave her to rest.”
Chris led the way to the kitchen, his steps as heavy as his heart.
“I’m making it worse,” he said, as much for himself as for Kit. “I’m making her worse.”
“You’re making her feel,” Kit corrected. “I’m not a fan of the crying, sure, but that’s more emotion than she’s shown since she came here. You’re getting through to her.”
Chris didn’t reply, but he had serious doubts about that. Kit was kind to encourage him, but she hadn’t heard the dragon roar, hadn’t seen her rage. Those images stayed with him on the long way back to the boarding house. He didn’t run anymore, his spirit too battered to do more than walk.
By the time he reached the school, the children were out again. It was midday; this had to be their lunch break. Isa sat in her usual spot, her attention focused on something he couldn’t see in her lap. He tried to walk by, in no mood for a little chat despite his previous resolution, but she noticed him and called out to him.
“You look sad. Didn’t your friend like the flowers?”
“I don’t think she did, no,” he replied with a crooked smile.
“That’s too bad. Here.”
She was holding her hand out to him over the fence, her small fist closed over something. She opened it as he came closer, revealing a tiny origami dragon made out of lined school paper. A few more were stacked up on a handkerchief laid out at her feet.
“Isn’t it cranes you’re supposed to fold to make a wish?” Chris asked, remembering a project about Japanese culture some of his students had once presented to his class.
“Cranes are boring. My sister always said dragons make for better wishes. You can have this one if you want.”
He took the tiny figure between two fingers, and couldn’t help but smile at the care Isa had obviously put into folding it.
“Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
She flashed him a small smile before sitting down again and returning to her task. Holding the dragon in his fist, careful not to crush it, Chris started walking again. After a few yards, almost of their own accord, his feet fell back into the familiar rhythm of a jog. All in all, he hadn’t accomplished much today… but the good news was, he could try again tomorrow.
CHAPTER NINE
The encounter replayed in Chris’ mind for most of the night, but try as he might to figure out what he could have done differently, he simply had no idea. The flowers had brought up some change, yes, but he still wasn’t sure that could be considered a good thing. The only way forward he could see was to keep visiting Marigold, to work on gaining her trust, and take things one day at a time.
As he took his breakfast that morning, Steve reminded him that it would be his turn to cook for the residents of the boarding house that night. He accepted the assignment with good grace. He enjoyed cooking. When he was only feeding himself, he liked to experiment, even at the risk of having to eat something a little burnt or a little bland, but since he was feeding others as well he decided to stick to something safe.
It was still early when he left for the market. The long building near the center of town offered fresh fruit, vegetables and meat four days a week, many of which were grown or raised right in Sanctuary. The more he learned about this place, the more surprised he was that the authorities allowed a territory as self-sufficient as this one to exist.
Did no one know, or even suspect, that this was a haven for paras? Or did Sanctuary have ways to make sure no one would come question its existence? He intended to ask Violet the next time he saw her. Chris didn’t want to start asking sensitive questions from just about anyone and have them wonder if his curiosity had nefarious roots, but surely it’d be safe to ask the woman he’d considered his sister-in-law since the moment he’d met her.
Even as he thought of her, he was startled to come across her mother, shopping from the same handmade fresh pasta stand he was. As she was in charge of the whole of Sanctuary, he’d assumed she’d have people to cook for her, or shop for her, or do just about anything else. It seemed he’d been wrong.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said amiably as she noticed him looking at her.
“Not a ghost,” he replied, shaking himself out of his stupor. “Just the queen of Sanctuary shopping for her dinner with us mere mortals.”
She raised her eyes to the ceiling and let out a deep sigh at his teasing.
“You’re lucky we’re family,” she chided him, “or I’d have you thrown straight out of the closest gate.”
He let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m sorry, Lily. How a
re you?”
“I’d be better if people young enough to be my kids didn’t keep teasing me,” she said good-naturedly. “Although in your case I think I might have to blame my own daughters. Did Violet put you up to this?”
“She did,” Chris admitted with a grin. “She made me promise to call you ‘queen’ the next time I saw you.” His grin ebbed away even as he asked, “Do you have any news from her group? Idris told me they’d be incommunicado, but I figured maybe you might know something.”
“My daughter is very independent,” Lily said, and Chris couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or pride in her words; maybe a bit of both. “I had to swear not to interfere with what she does beyond our walls.” After a brief pause, she added, “Of course it’s not interfering for me to receive regular reports about what she’s up to. Last I heard, they were on the west coast and everything was fine. They’re still preparing for a mission. They’re supposed to be back in the middle of next week.”
Chris offered a quiet word of thanks for the information.
“And how are things going with Marigold?” Lily asked. “I hear she’s been responding to you.”
Chris’ first instinct was to ask where she’d heard any such thing, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out. He’d only ever seen Kit at the cottage.
“Responding might not be the best word,” he replied dryly. “I’ve made her attack me, and I’ve made her cry. Not exactly the best of results.”
“But results nonetheless. I told you before how she’s been slipping away from us.”
“You did, yes.” Chris couldn’t stop his voice from sharpening a little as he added, “What you didn’t tell me was that she’s my mate.”
Her shrug looked entirely unabashed.
“This way, you and I both know you went there to help a perfect stranger, and not just to find someone to put in your bed. And it’s not like I took steps to hide it from you anyway. Did you see her wrist the first day?”
“I did. Right after I first entered her mind.”
Lily nodded thoughtfully. “Keep at it, Chris. Fate wouldn’t have marked you both in this way if she was meant to spend the rest of her life like this.”