Chapter Seventeen. When the Hatchlings Need Names #2
I finally gather up the nerve to look at Farren and she seems deep in contemplation.
When she faces me, her whole body shifting closer, she doesn’t look shocked, or disgusted at my slip.
In fact, I don’t think she noticed at all.
She sticks out her hand. “I’ll train you in medical.
You’ll train me in crafting. It’s a deal. ”
As I reach forward, she pulls back her hand at the last second. “Wait, one more thing. Can we also promise not to ignore each other anymore?”
“If you promise you won’t try to get me kicked out.” At her frown, I refresh her memory. “Try to make me fall for you? Ring a bell?”
Even in the dim light, I can make out Farren blushing. The sweep of light pink is so damn attractive, I almost take back my request. She can do whatever she wants if she keeps looking at me like that.
“Deal. Not like that was much of a threat though,” she laughs.
I choke back a laugh myself at the irony.
She’s worried I would spill the secret of Nity for fame and fortune.
Little does she know the only thing that could threaten my tongue would be the possibility of being with her.
Keeping all these secrets means our metal class will never be equal.
She is above me now. But no one can ever know.
Her palm warms mine as I shake her hand. “Deal.”
After our deal negotiations, we talk for hours.
I learn Farren’s family found Nity here and then her freshly laid eggs only days later.
They fretted about these three eggs for a year.
The theory is Nity was born here at least fifty years ago, maybe even longer since Rimbacks can live up to 150 years in the wild.
Sprinters are sentimental and instinctual, liking to nest in the same caves or mountaintops, so it makes sense if Rimbacks are as well.
The Walshes had watched the skies and hoped for her mate to join her, if there was a male golden Rimback they would need to conceal.
But he never appeared. And now with the alloy-and silver-coated hatchlings we know the father wasn’t golden and thus had no purpose in nesting with Nity.
It’s why we don’t crossbreed dragons of different metals.
The female dragon is left solely responsible for shedding their metallic scales.
Another reason the old adage “metals shouldn’t mix” became popularized.
I eventually prod Farren to craft more gold.
She shows off by making what we call a hatchling bottle, a smooth tube of metal babies use as pacifiers or chew toys.
Her creation gathers the hatchlings’ interest and the three tumble toward us.
Nity settles, allowing us to nanny a bit.
On closer inspection, and a slew of newborn tests administered by Farren, we learn the babies are healthy.
The oldest and the alloy are boys and the silver-plated youngest is a girl.
“What are their names?” I ask, realizing I’m calling them gold, alloy, and silver in my head.
“You think I’ve compiled some list already?”
“Haven’t you?”
“My parents said I should wait. We all worried when the eggs didn’t hatch in the first few months they never would.”
“But?” I prod.
She laughs. “Okay. Okay. I wished for a girl and I wanted to name her Oria. But my parents were right. I should have waited.”
The little silver dragon has crawled back onto my chest. “I think it’s a good name.”
“Murphy, I’m not calling a silver-coated dragon a name meaning golden.”
Oria scales my shoulder. “She overcame her golden egg. It’s ironic.” I tilt and look upward at Oria, who is now trying to climb my head. “Oria, what do you think?”
She coos, using my ear as a step stool to conquer the hill that is my body.
“See?”
“And what do you suggest we name this one?” She cradles the golden boy. “Zilar?”
She’s picked one of the most overused boy names meaning silver. I still like it. “Sounds good to me.”
“Your kids one day are going to have the most unfortunate names, aren’t they?”
“Well, maybe my future wife will have compiled a longer list.”
She throws hay in my direction. It lands halfway, on the alloy baby, unbothered and chewing gold.
We look at one another at the same time. “Electrum,” we say simultaneously. Farren proceeds to topple over laughing. “Now, that’s bad.”
“It’s on the nose, but he is literally a silver-and-gold alloy,” I defend. But really, I just like that we thought of the joke at the same time.
“We’re terrible parents,” she hiccups from the cavern floor.
My whole body lights up as if I’ve swallowed sunshine.
I want to chastise her about our deal, how she promised to not make me fall for her.
But she’s doing nothing but being herself.
I’m going to have to hold it together if we are to be friends.
And I think after tonight we are. Friends.
Co-parents? No, just friends. I’ve waited my whole life to be Farren’s friend. I can do this.
It’s the best night of my life. Hours later, Farren lays down with Zilar tucked to her side and I lay across from her with Oria, who I allow back on my chest with weak threats to not vomit on me again.
As soon as the rain stops, I’ll return to the loft. It becomes a repeated promise. I’ll leave. The storm will end. I’ve never broken a promise so easily. Because before I know it, Farren’s napping with that golden dragon curled up beside her while the silver one is tucked in my blanket.
I remember reaching across and removing Farren’s glasses. I remember trying to wait out the storm without staring at her sleeping. I remember everything except dozing off.