Authors: Debbie Mumford
Sorcha's Heart (13 page)
The winging dragon came close enough to be seen properly, and Sorcha’s ruminations about her mate’s loss ceased abruptly.
“Aislinn,” Sorcha cried and then pressed her hands to her mouth. She laughed, pleased her daughter was still too far distant for the sound of her voice to irritate tender dragon ears. Open air absorbed the most disturbing reverberations of human speech, but Sorcha would curb her vocal enthusiasm until her daughter had transformed.
Odd that the pitiful mewlings of humanity caused dragons pain when their own bellowing roars and deep gravelly voices didn’t. True, they seldom used vocalizations in the aerie, preferring mind-speech, but Sorcha knew from experience their own sounds were not painful.
She frowned, grappling with the conundrum she had all but forgotten. Perhaps the higher pitches of human speech, or maybe some small thing inaudible to humans, caused the problem. After all, dogs heard things no human could detect. Perhaps dragons had similar abilities.
Sorcha glanced at the sky and pushed the puzzle of dragon hearing aside. Aislinn would land momentarily. Sorcha spun around, ran toward the stairs…and collided with Caedyrn.
“Who is it?” he asked, grabbing her arms and steadying her so she didn’t pitch off the battlement. “Can you tell yet who has come?”
“It’s Aislinn,” she cried, pulling free and racing down the stairs and along the wall. “One of our children has come at last. Oh, Caedyrn!”
Sorcha jostled the gatekeeper aside and lunged for the postern gate.
“Open it quickly,” called Caedyrn to the confused gatekeeper, “or my wife might tear it down.”
Sorcha scowled over her shoulder, but relaxed immediately. Caedyrn also pelted toward the gate. Laughing, she stood aside while the gatekeeper pulled the door open and bowed her out.
With Caedyrn at her side, Sorcha picked up her skirts and fairly flew to the meadow where her dragon-kin were wont to land.
“If I’d known she was coming, I’d have had a gown ready for her,” she said, pulling her own cloak from her shoulders.
Caedyrn laid a restraining hand on hers and said, “Allow me, my love. You keep your cloak and stay warm. Indulge a father’s need to protect his offspring.”
She resettled her cloak and grasped Caedyrn’s hand.
Aislinn landed softly before them and shimmered from midnight blue dragon to raven-haired woman. Sorcha snatched the offered cloak from her husband, who waited with averted eyes, and sprinted the last few steps to her daughter’s side.
“You’re cold,” she said and wrapped Aislinn in the fur-lined cloak. “Just look at the blue tinge to your skin!”
Aislinn laughed, a musical, lilting melody. “No, lady mother,” she said, hugging Sorcha with flight-toned human arms. “I thank you for the cloak’s warmth, but my skin is always a little blue. I’m a blue dragon after all.”
“Of course,” Sorcha said with a laugh, thrilled to have this grown daughter safe in her arms. “Welcome home, Aislinn! We’re so glad you’ve come.” She closed her eyes and savored the smell of fresh air and sunlight that clung to her daughter’s hair. “Caedyrn, come greet your daughter. She’s well enough covered for a father’s hug.”
Caedyrn strode to them and wrapped them both in strong, dark-skinned arms. “Welcome, child.”
Emotion vibrated in his husky voice, and Sorcha realized tears streaked her own face. The trio stood locked in a multi-armed embrace, unable, or unwilling, to relinquish the long-denied physical contact.
Finally, Aislinn squirmed and said, “Perhaps we should take this indoors?”
Her parents laughed, wiped their streaming eyes and led her to the castle gate.
“Gatekeeper, guards, everyone within sound of my voice,” boomed Caedyrn. “Attend me! This is the Lady Aislinn, our daughter. Extend to her every courtesy you would to the Lady Sorcha or myself.”
And so they entered the courtyard of the keep to the sound of cheers and hearty applause, and Sorcha smiled to see the rosebud blush bloom on her child’s blue-tinged cheeks.
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Dragons' Choice
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