Dante had met up with the dragon whisperers in Sartu, where they had stayed during his time in Hogard. He brought money and jewelry from his vault and explained everything that had happened in the royal city, and that they were all now safe with no future threats on the horizon. After asking their fill of questions and requests for details, Tamar and Marnie layered the jewelry he packed on their necks and wrists to the point that Dante was impressed they could stand upright. Delle, however, kept her attention on him, asking about Prim--though she still referred to her as Bear. He didn’t have it in him to explain why she had to stay and he had to go.
Months passed, and Dante lived his life in Pregg nearly as he always had: taking care of Marnie, helping around the house, flying through the mountains. The only activity he no longer partook in was his late night visits to certain establishments in the city where he previously found drink and company. Now, if he wanted a drink, he just did it at home. And he no longer desired to find company.
He was in Pregg. He was free. He was rich. His family was safe. He had everything he’d ever wanted.
But as the days went by, he realized this was no longer everything he ever wanted. There was one crucial piece missing.
Dante stood in the kitchen, his wings poking out of a loose cotton shirt, an apron covering his front. He slid a knife across a potato, the cool meat of the vegetable meeting his thumb as he removed a strip of the skin and tossed it into a bowl already half-filled with kitchen refuse. Once all the skin was gone and he held a slippery oblong ball in his hand, he set it on the wooden board atop the counter and began chopping.
Marnie leaned over from her position in front of the hearth, adding some herbs to the boiling pot within. “No, no, no. They need to be uniform. That piece that you’ve cut as big as your thumb will still be raw when that piece as small as your pinky nail is burnt.”
Dante grunted. “Do you forget who taught you how to cook?” he asked, though he went over all his previous work to ensure they were all the same size.
“Sure as hell wasn’t you,” the girl muttered under her breath.
Dante’s shoulders shook, forcing him to pause his chopping. He laid the knife down and spun to grab the girl in a playful hold across her shoulders too fast for her to dodge him, eliciting a squeal. He hovered his hand over her head, his knuckles aimed at her scalp. “Who taught you to cook?”
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Marnie could barely get an answer out for her laughter. “My mom!”
His knuckles made contact with her hair, and he moved his hand back and forth, frizzing up her chestnut strands. “Who taught you to cook?”
She squirmed, but didn’t give in as she again squealed, “My mom taught me!”
Dante attacked her scalp again then released her. Marnie lurched across the kitchen, away from his grasp, clutching the counter as her gasping laughs continued. He stared at her, a half smile on his lips, shaking his head. Then a sound pricked his ear and his smile fell as he tilted his head.
Marnie immediately quieted and straightened at the change in his expression. “What is it?”
Dante shook his head. Someone was outside, but he didn’t hear them approach. It sounded as if they just appeared at the door. And now they were knocking.
His chest clenched even as he told himself it couldn’t be her. Still, he practically flew through the house to the front door, flinging it open.
And there she stood. Prim wore the flight leathers she’d gotten the last time she was here, her long ash blond hair in a slightly tighter braid than the ones she’d worn before he taught her some tricks, and a soft smile lit her face.
Neither said a word as Dante wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own arms to her sides. A moment later, he readjusted his grip to allow her to return the embrace. They clung to one another, and he felt the shudders of joyous tears rack Prim’s body.
When the silent yet powerful embrace finally ended, Dante pulled back to gently clasp his hands around her neck. “What are you doing here?”
Prim’s golden brown eyes glistened as she looked at him in a way that made his knees buckle. “I missed you.”
He laughed. “Of course you missed me. But that’s not a reason to leave Hogard.”
“Isn’t it?”
He didn’t question her further about her motivations. Instead, he moved onto her execution. “Did you lope here? All that way?”
Pouting, Prim said, “You’re not even going to say you missed me, too?”
Dante looked deep into her eyes as he brushed his thumb across her skin. “I miss you every stupid second of my life.”
That had her pout transforming into something else entirely, and she nuzzled into his chest before pulling back to answer his question.
Prim explained how her magic had been building up over the past few months since he’d left. After two weeks, she’d been able to lope halfway between Pregg and Hogard. After three months, she’d been able to do the entire trip. Dante couldn’t quite grasp the idea that she’d been in the royal complex only minutes ago. But he didn’t need to. He could grasp her. Here, in front of him. Flesh and blood. That was all that mattered.