Instead of our usual breakfast in the Sun Room, we all opt to eat in the medical center to be with Amon. He’s fast asleep, now washed, dressed in soft white and tan clothes, and tucked into a cot on the second floor, the wing dedicated to Wards. I stare at his face, anxious for Amon to wake but wanting him to get as much sleep as possible.
Neil nudges me with his elbow. “He ain’t food. Let the poor boy sleep.”
I scowl at Neil as the other Wards chuckle before going back to my apple, banana, strawberry, and fireweed salad. “I’m just relieved,” I say.
“Me too,” Veremund says. “I only wish Andeuten was still with us.”
We all as one cringe. Now almost two months into my bond with Astralux, I’m beginning to understand how much it would hurt to lose her. I glance at Amon, noting the stiffness with which he lays. Head Nurse Jaye had said his wounds were surprisingly clean and would heal well. But she had also noted that he seemed exhausted. No doubt from sorrow and whatever the Vladykars did to him. Sighing, I stroke back a lock of Amon’s warm brown hair from his face.
“I’m sorry.” Veremund leans back in his seat, taking a sip of coffee from his porcelain cup. “We should rejoice that Amon is with us again.”
“And, that we didn’t lose the Star to the Vladykars,” Volkan says.
“I wonder how Amon got away?” Mortimer tilts his head, staring at Amon’s form. “He must have been hatching a plan for days. Maybe weeks.”
“He’s always been a tricky one,” Neil says. “Probably used the fact that they brought him closer to Adytol to make it here.”
“This does mean,” Thorn says after a pause, “that there’s a good chance that the letters never made it to the other countries.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Veremund says. “We’ll ask when Amon wakes. But let’s assume, in the meantime, that they haven’t made it there and that we need to resend them. This can’t wait.”
“Especially since we’re down a Ward now.” Volkan scowls. “Those bastards.”
Amon gives a cough and we all pause as he opens one eye, then both. His gaze slowly focuses on me, and I give him a warm smile. “Hello, Beauty,” Amon whispers.
Smiling, I pick up Amon’s hand and hold it to my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Drained.” Amon’s eyes focus on something past me, and he blinks and smiles. “Hello.”
“What, no ‘Good morning Gorgeous’ for me?” Neil, chuckling, leans over and pats Amon on the shoulder. “Glad you made it back.”
“We’re so relieved you’re here.” Veremund stares at Amon’s face, his brow slightly furrowed. “I’m sorry about Andeuten.”
Amon swallows. He opens his mouth, hesitates, and then his lips tighten into a line again. Somehow, the action is more heartbreaking than if he had tried to say something about his loss, and a lump lodges itself in my throat. His golden hazel eyes drop to the blankets, and I share a look with Mortimer, who is blinking back tears.
“The letters.” Amon suddenly looks back up at Veremund. “The letters never made it. We failed.”
“No, no.” Veremund strokes Amon’s head as if the Ward were a child. “You didn’t fail.”
“But the letters never made it,” Amon presses.
“We’ll send someone else with the letters,” Veremund says. “Maybe two pairs this time.”
Amon gives a heavy sigh, dropping his head. “That would be good.”
Veremund glances at me then at Thorn. “Perhaps Thorn and Estelle, since you both—”
“—No!” Amon snatches my hand, startling me, and holds it to his chest. He stares at Veremund with a horrified expression. “Please don’t send Estelle! If, if the Vladykars got a hold of her….” His bottom lip trembles. “They talk about her frequently.”
I shudder but then I kiss Amon’s head. “It’s okay.”
“Please, don’t send Estelle,” Amon repeats. “Send someone more experienced instead. Even two experienced Wards. But not her.”
Veremund glances at Neil and Mortimer but then gives a nod. “I understand your concern. We will discuss the matter.”
Amon heaves a sigh and then leans back. His grip on my hand lessens and lessens until at last, I hear heavy breathing from him.
“Let us step outside in the hall for a moment,” Veremund whispers.
Tucking Amon in, I follow the Wards out into the hallway. Veremund closes the door behind me and rubs his brow.
“I can go,” Mortimer says.
“I know,” Veremund says. “Yet I’m concerned about the safety of Adytol.” He glances at a window nearby, sun shining through the panes. “The Vladykars have dealt us a sound blow. We need to support Amenyl and get those letters out, but we also can’t afford to leave Adytol undefended. And I don’t know that I feel good with you, Neil, or myself leaving right now.”
“What if Volkan and I went?” Thorn says. “We’re not the most experienced here, but then you all can stay here in Adytol.”
Volkan nods. “We could do it.”
The smallest smile plays at the corner of Veremund’s lips. “I know you could deliver the letters. But diplomacy is neither one of your top skills.”
“What diplomacy? We show up, hand them letters, and get out,” Volkan says. I giggle when Mortimer and Neil share a grin. “What?”
Thorn looks at me, smiling a little. “Veremund’s right. Estelle’s better at it than either of us.”
“But, I understand Amon’s concern for Estelle.” Veremund turns to me. “You are our newest member and haven’t even fully trained per our usual requirements. Perhaps you should remain in Adytol to not only train, but also to support Amon as he recovers. Clearly, your presence means a lot to him.”
I flush and shoot Neil a look when he chuckles. “I want to help however is best,” I say. “While Amon may want me to stay, if getting those letters out ensures that Amenyl finds support and is able to stand against Klevor and aid us against the Vladykars, that will help Amon more in the end.”
“A very wise observation,” Mortimer murmurs.
Veremund nods. “However, for Amon’s sake, as well as your own training, I think you should remain.” He looks around at the other Wards. “Perhaps Thorn and Mortimer should go, then.”
“While we aren’t the most diplomatic,” Thorn says, “Volkan does have a point—we can take the approach of simply trying to get the letters out. Consider ourselves messengers, not diplomats or emissaries. Then we can return as fast as possible.”
“That’s true,” Neil says. “And maybe speed is better in this case, so that you both can return to Adytol as soon as possible.”
“I think I prefer this option,” Veremund says. “I’m anxious for our members to be separated.”
“We need to redo the letters.” Mortimer glances at me. “Do you think you could help, Estelle?”
“Of course!”
“Would you be ready to leave by tomorrow?” Veremund asks.
Thorn and Volkan both nod. “Easily,” Volkan says. “I honestly think we could leave now, but I know you need to draft the letters again.”
“Well, we only need a few,” I say. “If we hurry we might be able to get them done by lunch.”
“Even that would be helpful,” Thorn says.
“Very well. Mortimer and Estelle will recreate the letters, and Volkan and Thorn will deliver them speedily, looking only for opportunities to drop them off.” Veremund looks at Neil. “In the meantime, Neil, let’s you and I meet with the guards and the engineers to be sure that the defenses are coming along. My heart tells me that Adytol will be facing a battle sooner than we wish.”
“We can help until the letters are ready,” Volkan says.
“Shouldn’t someone stay with Amon?” I ask.
“I can,” Thorn says.
Volkan runs a hand through his orange-red hair, staring at the door. “I’ll stay too, on second thought.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Mortimer pats me on the back. “Alright, Estelle, let’s cramp our hands up some more!”
Chuckling, Mortimer and I lead the way out of the medical center, Veremund and Neil branching off towards the guards’ barracks, by which is the captain of the guard’s office. Entering the Ward’s Palace, Mortimer and I head to one of the common rooms, which contains a desk, and distribute ink, quills, water, napkins, and parchment paper between us. Mortimer leaves briefly to fetch the master copy he kept, and then we begin, myself on the Haufig translations, while Mortimer works on some of the other language translations.
Halfway through transcribing the first letter, I glance up. “Mortimer, how long does it usually take someone to recover from the loss of a bonded?”
“To be honest, there’s a bit of a difference between when a dragon loses a bonded and when a human loses a bonded.” Mortimer keeps transcribing, but his lips are pursed, his brow furrowed. “Dragons are much longer-lived. We don’t know how much longer—they may not even experience natural deaths.”
“Right,” I say. I remember this from my brief studies with Neil, and conversations with Astralux.
“Us humans, on the other hand, should feel lucky if we see 100 years in our lifetime, at least before bonding.” Mortimer’s blue-green eyes lift to my face. “What that means is that when a dragon loses their bonded, while it is still incredibly painful, they will one day recover and be able to bond again. Kalteratem has had many, many bonded riders. So has Giftigbun. Undabouclier had a bonded before me. And of course, so has Astralux.” Mortimer nods to me when I cringe on Astralux’s behalf. “Astralux still grieves for her bonded. But she was able to bond with you. Perhaps it was hastily done, perhaps it was partly borne out of a need to survive. Yet a dragon cannot be forced to bond. Her heart, while still grieving Tristin, was ready to bond with yours.
“For a human, however, it’s been said that losing your bonded dragon is a tremendous pain unlike anything else. Years ago when I was a brand-new Ward, there was a Ward named Taylor who lost his dragon. He never fully recovered, and he never bonded again.
“In Amon’s case, as if that loss isn’t dreadful enough, Amon was a prisoner of the Vladykars.” Mortimer rubs my shoulder. “I don’t say this to scare you about Amon. I’ve already seen him show a strength that Taylor didn’t have, even after everything he’s faced. I think Amon will be fine. It’s just going to take him time.”
I nod, glancing at one of the large, colored glass panes against the stone wall on the far side of the room. The weight of the loss of Andeuten, and Amon’s imprisonment by the Vladykars, is heavy on my heart. I reach into my vest, wanting to hold Ariadna’s Star, before I realize that it’s with Veremund.
“Ariadna will make it right,” Mortimer says.
“I know.” I give Mortimer a smile and go back to working on the letter.
After a moment of silence, Mortimer chuckles. “Given that Amon was already worried about your wellbeing, I don’t think it’s going to be long before you and Amon make a decision about your wedding date.” He laughs as I brandish the feather of my quill at his face.
Tamara Rivers 
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