FastSaying

You know the story.” The Nalnom rotated his hand in the air as if she should recall it.

“I don’t. I’ve never heard the story.”

Joshlon summarized it for her. “Prometheus was turned into a dragon by his angry lover, Naradite. She refused to turn him back into his manly form. He became the first fire-breathing dragon—Naga the Terrible.”

Eena dropped her lower jaw. “What?”

“Naradite turned Prometheus into a dragon,” Joshlon repeated. “Naga.”

“And Prometheus is Edgar’s father?” She was sure the surrounding stares were the result of her virtually shouting out the question.

Joshlon answered with some hesitance in his voice. “I don’t know who Edgar is, but Edgarmetheus was supposedly the son of Prometheus, the illegitimate child of him and his lover, Naradite.”

“Oh. My. Gosh!” Eena exclaimed. “Naga is Edgar’s father!”

Joshlon’s lip curled. He didn’t look like he was following her emotional outburst. “Sha Eena, are you trying to tell me that this is all for real? And Naga is the undefeatable enemy you’re fighting?”

Her hazel eyes focused on him instantly. “Oh, no, no, not Naga! Out of all the immortals, he’s the nice one!”

Joshlon looked confused. “Naga the Terrible is the nice one?”

“Yes,” Eena nodded assuredly. “Edgar is the…” She halted mid-sentence. Joshlon had stopped moving. In fact, all the surrounding Nalnoms were frozen in place, skeptical expressions stuck on their faces. Her eyes fell closed when she heard the disgruntled voice behind her.

“I’m the what?” he grumbled lowly. “I’d really love to hear the end of that sentence, Amora.

Richelle E. Goodrich

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I know they don’t respect the lives of others…”

“Mortals,” he specified, “who exist for a brief moment and then die off.”

Her voice rose as she argued with him. “I speak of people with very valued lives, Edgar. It may seem like a moment to you, but to me it is eternity.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Edgar! Life is valuable—period. And because mine can be easily taken away, it becomes even more valuable and precious. Yours, you take for granted because you’ll never lose it. Mine, I cherish because it’s fleeting. For that reason alone I can argue that my life is of the greatest worth.”

His eyebrows pulled together over a tangled scowl. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to understand her reasoning or if she had merely managed to upset him.

“Never mind,” she mumbled. “I don’t think you can appreciate what you’ve never experienced.

“That works both ways, Amora.”

“Whatever.
— Richelle E. Goodrich
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The captain put his fingers to his temples as if he had a headache. “So, let me get this straight. Edgar, an immortal, who I assume is as unscrupulous as his sisters, tried to take that bracelet from you…”

“He did take it,” she corrected.

“I thought you said Zmey kept him from doing so.”

“No. Edgar did snatch it from me at first, but Zmey made him give it back. I guess because King Wennergren gifted it to me. That means no one else is allowed to have it—that is, unless I give it away.”

“So it’s good that you had Zmey there to help.”

“Well….not exactly,” she hemmed again.

“Not exactly, again?” Derian’s face tightened with frustration. He pressed harder on his temples.

“Zmey protects the bracelet because he has to, but he doesn’t care much for me.” She hesitated before uttering the next sentence. “He actually tried to kill me.”

“What? What! Why? Eena!”

“It’s okay, really, I’m fine! Naga protects me from those other dragons.”

“Other dragons? For criminy’s sake, how many more are there?!
— Richelle E. Goodrich
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Ravelly pointed to the illustration as he told his friend that years ago he read this story nightly to his son, Wahlister. “Imorih’s Journey—quite the moralistic quest.”

Unan nodded in agreement. “I read it to Ian and Eena when they were children.” Then he held up the opened page with the picture of Imorih and the tiny, shouldered bug. He asked curiously, “Why do you say this is your favorite part, Master Ravelly?” The question caught Eena’s interest, and her ears tuned in, but her eyes continued to scan the lively crowd below.

The old Grott went on to explain. “That is the part where Imorih realizes the whispered voice she has been listening to, the advice she has been heeding, doesn’t belong to her conscience as she first supposed. It shocks her to learn that for the more part of her journey she has been following the promptings of a negligible, albeit well-intentioned, creature. That’s when two things happen in her life. First, she comprehends how cunning and manipulative the power of suggestion can be. Secondly, she learns to recognize the difference between her own voice—her own desires—and someone else’s.”

Unan hummed a sound of accordance. “That’s right. Things change quite drastically after that discovery, don’t they?”

“Yes, yes, they most certainly do. For the best, I recall.”

“Because she becomes master of her own destiny after that.”

“As we all should be.”

Unan nodded, examining the illustration once again. “Yes, as we all should be.
— Richelle E. Goodrich
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Eena turned aside, breathing shallowly as her mind raced with questions. She was glad he couldn’t read the confusion that swooped her up like a passing tornado. Was it even possible to genuinely love more than one man?

Yes. Oh, yes.

She knew it because her heart irrefutably felt it. She loved Derian; it was true. She wasn’t trying to convince herself of it, no matter what Edgar said. She yearned deeply for her captain.

But she loved Ian too. She always had. Only she purposefully, appropriately, had set those feelings aside when he made the decision to pursue Angelle.

But Angelle was gone now.

No, Eena thought to herself, this changes nothing. She scolded her heart for longing for something spent and ended, for even considering the possibility. Her with Ian? No, no, it had to remain in the past.
— Richelle E. Goodrich
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When gossip starts, be deaf.
— Richelle E. Goodrich
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