The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Thirteen

Naomi and her father kept their silent pact to avoid talking about the king and current affairs until they were behind their domestic walls. Her father was probably right that the king had eyes on them when they weren't in the castle. They'd discuss their disgruntled remarks in private. When they were safely locked inside their home, Naomi collapsed into the kitchen chair.

"That's it, I guess." Naomi glared down at the beaten-up wooden table.

Her dad sat beside her, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I suppose so."

"Two days. How can I get ready for such a huge change in two days?"

"Believe me. Greater and more catastrophic events have happened in less time. You made a difficult choice, but you'll survive it. And I'll be here, whenever you need me."

"It's a boarding school, Papa. Between that and 'protecting' Malcolm, I doubt I'll have time to come home often."

"Then we'll i-mail," her father insisted.

"You mean email, Papa?" Naomi asked.

"Yes, until we can afford to buy new ringers."

Naomi frowned, remembering how both of their ringer devices had been stolen recently when someone broke into the shop. In this day and age, the technological beauty was almost a necessity.

Naomi supposed she could send emails through her old, portable e-Mecha, although the thing was ancient. E-Mechas worked from technology similar to ringers. Energy waves powered the mechanisms so you could do anything from sending messages to surfing wavesites. The ones with the latest technology were particularly fast compared to hers. But either way, between her own clunky one and the equally outdated one her father used in the shop, it was possible for them to communicate.

"We'll write to each other at least once a week. Is that fair?" her dad asked.

"Yeah, it's a deal," Naomi said.

With that settled, her father knocked his knuckles on the table decisively.

"How about we have potato casserole for dinner?"

Naomi managed to smile at last.

Potato casserole was her favorite. Back when her mom was alive, she would make it for Naomi all the time. The secret ingredient was the best part—a hint of wicker herbs. A sprinkling of the savory spice was known to provide good luck, according to old legends. Her father did his best to replicate the recipe. Over time, he'd been able to make it almost as good—with Naomi's help, of course.

"I'll get the potatoes and the wicker. You grab the cheese," Naomi said, jumping up to go to the cupboard.

They spent the rest of the night cooking, talking, and laughing, knowing this moment would be one of their last together for a long time.

Naomi swore to herself she'd always cherish this memory. The last time of eating potato casserole with her father, while her mother's spirit lingered, alive in the room with them. She knew at that moment, no matter what happened once she left for Legacy, she would carry her parents with her.

They gave her strength. They gave her courage. They gave her life.

Naomi planned to make the most of it.

***

Without fail, and in spite of Naomi's denial, those two days did indeed pass. Firan morning, Naomi left home with her father to take the tram to Legacy. She didn't get to say good-bye to Orin. He'd been steadily avoiding her. She knew that no matter how many times her father mentioned Orin was at home taking care of a sick relative.