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The great dragon lowered its head as it descended, flapping its terrible black wings and heading right toward the knight and the princess. There was no time to think. Ser Gavin tossed his shield to Lady Priscilla and, ignoring her cries of protest, held his sword high and ran straight for the dragon that was barreling toward them with a deafening roar. This was the only way she would survive; if he did not, it was a sacrfice he was willing to make. With a great bellowing battle cry, the brave knight leapt into the air and—
“Owww! Stop that!”
“I will not! That’s my ball, give it back!”
“It’s our ball, stupid! And right now I’m playing with it!”
“Will you two shut up? And don’t call him stupid. Just share the blasted thing!”
Cullen sighed, marking his place in the book with the cord and snapping it shut.
“There you are!” Mia trotted over to his formerly quiet spot on the bank. She sat down next to him while Rosalie and Branson went over the rules on how much time each of them would get with the precious ball. “You’ve been down here all day. We missed you.”
Cullen doubted Branson and Rosalie cared one whit how much time he spent at the lake, but he didn’t argue.
Her eyes widened as she picked up the thick tome. “Is this the book you just started this morning? And you’re almost finished?” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone read so fast. Not even mother.”
Cullen shrugged, watching his siblings jump into the water and desperately missing the quiet he’d enjoyed just moments ago. Rosalie was shrieking every time Branson splashed her.
Mia nudged him. “My, aren’t you the chatty one?”
He grunted and rose to his feet, taking his book back. “I think it’s time I head home now.”
Mia frowned. “But I only just arrived. I wanted to spend time with my little brother. You’re so quiet lately, Cullen. Remember how we used to talk and talk?” She reached up and took his hand, looking concerned. He hated that look. “Is everything all right?”
He was careful not to pull away too forcefully, he knew she meant well. Even so, she was stifling him lately. Always asking after him, always wanting to talk, and the truth was he just didn’t have much to say. He’d told her that time and again, but for some reason she didn’t seem to believe him.
“I’m fine. Truly. See you at supper.”
He took the short path home and started to feel right again once the sounds of his siblings died away in the distance.
Petey was first to greet him on the front porch, as always, with slobbery mabari licks and head bumps. He stooped to give him a proper belly rub when he heard his parents’ voices drifting through the open window. Something about their tone made him stop and listen.
“She didn’t even leave a letter. Maker, I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I. What brought this on? Someone else?”
“Don’t know. I didn’t want to press him, poor Harold was barely holding it together.”
“What about Sylvie? To lose her mother, just like that?”
Cullen swiftly opened the door at hearing his friend’s name, and his parents nearly jumped out of their chairs.
“Cullen!” His mother splayed her hand over her chest. “You nearly scared us half to death. Why are you sneaking around like that?”
“I’m not sneaking. Why are you talking about Sylvie?” Cullen demanded. “What happened?”
His mother and father exchanged strange looks.
Cullen tossed his book on the kitchen table. “I heard you. What do you mean she lost her mother?” His eyes widened as realization set in. “Did she… did Mrs. Forester die?”
His father pulled out the chair next to him. “Have a seat, son.”
***
She was in the field behind her house picking wildflowers, just as her father had said. Only the tiny white ones.
“Hello,” Sylvie said flatly, without looking up from plucking the next bloom. Her long, frizzy plaits framed a tear-stained face. It was clear that she knew that he knew what had happened.
He didn’t know what to say, but unlike with Mia, there was so much he wanted to tell her. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry your mother left. I’m confused because she seemed so nice. My parents said sometimes these things happen and it’s never the child’s fault. I’m still here, I’m still your friend.
Instead he only said, “I brought you something,” and reached inside his sack.
She laid her bouquet down on the tall grass. “What is it?”
He handed her a book, the same one he’d been reading earlier. “It’s about a knight and a princess. But it’s not a silly romance book. It’s got plenty of adventures - dragons, dwarves, elves, magic and everything.”
She took it from him, running her hand over the smooth burgundy leather and reading the foil lettering on the binding. “A Kingdom’s Reckoning - oh!” Her eyes lit up. “I heard one of father’s customers talking about this book. She says the knight is absolutely dashing, but the best part is that the princess can fight, too.”
Cullen smirked; he should have known that was the part she’d like best. “That she can. It’s very good. I couldn’t put it down.”
Sylvie bit her lip and studied him, holding the book to her chest. “Will you… oh nevermind, it’s stupid. Thank you for the gift.”
“What is it?”
“Would you… would you read it to me? You have a nice voice. And… it’s very quiet here all of a sudden.” Her voice trailed off and she looked away, wiping her face with her sleeve.
He took the book from her and looked around for a good place to sit. “All right. Should we start now?”
She smiled a toothy, grateful grin, and nodded.