“Darling? What’s wrong?”

  Ahn’rah sighed, hanging his head a bit lower. He had barely entered the cave and Turimiil could already see right through him. He thought he could perhaps lay in their nest of fleece and moss, nuzzle up beside her and forget about everything until morning. His beloved mate, however, could always tell when he was feeling low.

  The dying fire between them caused light to dance over her steel-blue scales and black horns, and her pale green eyes almost seemed to glow. Ahn’rah couldn’t help but stare, noting the concern in her knit brow and in the tilt of her head. Simply the sight of her, safe and warm in their home, was enough for his muscles to begin letting go of the tension they had been holding.

  “Are you alright?” She asked, now sitting up to get a better look at him.

  “Oh,” Ahn’rah muttered, having forgotten to reply, “I’ll be alright, but I think Father might be a bit cold for a while. He came back tonight, and I took the chance to ask him, like we planned.”

  Turimiil’s worry deepened in her expression, and her soft voice now held a more cautious tone. “I take it he didn’t much like the idea?”

  “Not at all.” Ahn’rah sighed, now trotting around the fire toward the nest, slowly settling himself down on the warm, soft bedding. “I hardly managed to broach the subject before he brushed it off. When I mentioned wanting to quit the Divers, though, he started to get aggressive.”

  The thought of Hallath’s towering stance over him made a shiver run down his spine, as if a cold wind was biting at him under his scales. “I handled it horribly. I buckled under the pressure. That might have been our only chance to convince him, and I failed.”

  Turimiil’s claws began gently scratching the top of his head, between Ahn’rah’s tall, curling horns. His eyes immediately began to drift closed, chin resting on his arms. She gave a soft sigh, not out of disappointment, but as a release of tension.

  “That’s alright, Ahn’rah.”

  “Alright?” Ahn’rah’s eyes opened to look up at his beloved. “How?”

  “Well, firstly, you didn’t fail. You and I can broach the subject with him together at some point over a meal, and perhaps we would find him more agreeable then.”

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  Ahn’rah began to lift his head to object, but Turimiil put a claw to his lips, shushing him.

  “Secondly, we do not truly need his permission. We can always find a way around him, make a plan to distract him long enough. If we pull that off, we can take whatever essentials we would need and leave, fly far from Topavara.”

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to take from him, Turi. His trove may be massive, but he keeps track of it, sorts it, spends days in it. He’ll likely have me logging his share of the spoils when I’m back to working.”

  “I don’t see the harm. None of it is his in the first place.”

  Ahn’rah sighed. No arguments there. Turimiil continued.

  “Besides, I doubt he would look for us for very long, he can find another Dragon to plan their trips. Perhaps we could convince the Thought-Bringers to help us. They’ll be here in five or so days regardless. Caelmer could put in a good word with them, and one of their Fae members might be able to persuade a Court to hide us away for a while.”

  “I doubt they would take that risk.” Ahn’rah huffed, his frustration evident. “The Trove Divers aren’t exactly the most popular group currently, what with all the raiding, pillaging, and slaughter of Fae. I doubt any Court in their right mind would house us. Who would even believe us? That we don’t want to be involved in any of it? That’s a lot to ask of people who don’t trust us.”

  “Cael trusts you. And you trust him, don’t you?” Turimiil asked, waiting for Ahn’rah’s head to nod before continuing. “He’s your best friend, and he knows what we’re dealing with while under your father’s thumb. Even if he can’t arrange something so big, you know he’ll at least try something.”

  Ahn’rah had gone silent now, mulling on the thought. He trusted Caelmer, of course, and he knew the kind of sway he had within The Thought-Bringers. Why would they doubt their shining prodigy of an Arcanist and Rune Forger? At the very least Caelmer might be able to give them supplies or assistance of some sort.

  “You’re right, Turi. It’s just hard to see the path when there’s so much pressure. I just wish we didn’t have to drag him into all of this trouble.”

  “You’re not dragging him into anything. Hallath wouldn’t dare touch Cael. He probably believes Cael would turn him into a frog.”

  A good laugh passed between them, cutting through the last bits of tension and doubt Ahn’rah felt in his shoulders. He fully relaxed into the nest, Turimiil’s claws gently scratching between the ridges on his back. She slowly soothed him as he began to give in to the exhaustion creeping into him, the crackling of their lulling fire just barely echoing off the walls.