The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Forty-One

The following morning, Naomi's brain was foggy from lack of sleep and restless agitation. Nurse Alice had brought her a substantial breakfast of porridge and toast—things that would be easier on her healing stomach—but Naomi couldn't gather the motivation to eat. Her mind was too busy with imaginings. Not to mention, the porridge looked even rougher than the usual gruel.

A knock on her bedpost halted her bleak stirring of her breakfast bowl. Her roommate was here, ready to entertain her sick friend.

"Hey! I brought us cards." Lark waved a deck in front of her.

"Thanks," Naomi said as she pushed aside the breakfast tray, deciding there was no way her stomach was tolerating that right now.

"It's the weekend, so no class. Until they let you out this afternoon, I figured we could play a few games. Poker perhaps?" Lark flipped the cards in her hands, doing fancy tricks.

"I only know Go Sprite," Naomi said, watching Lark warily. Judging by those quick hand movements, she suspected Lark was more of a card shark than she was letting on. Her pout at Naomi's lack of knowledge proved it.

"Fine. Go Sprite," Lark said, setting up the game.

Despite Lark's attempt at calm card play, Naomi was bursting to tell her about the events of last night. The pressure to open up mounted as Lark laid out the cards.

"Okay then," Lark said as she studied her hand. "Do you have any—"

"Last night, I caught someone trying to break into Malcolm's room, and then the bastards had the nerve to leave me a threatening note. Oh, and I kissed Quinn. Which by the way, I've been kind of, sort of seeing Quinn, without telling you about it, because I knew you'd freak."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lark said, waving around her cards in a "stop" motion. "Back the truck up. What did you say to me?"

Naomi reiterated the most important parts of her story: the source of the actual poisoning, going to Malcolm's room, and then the foreboding note.

"You have to tell King Drewell. Get the other guards involved. You can't handle this on your own," Lark said.

"I plan on talking to Figgis and Sam to see what the king told them. I'm sure they've put new security measures in place. I'll tell them about last night."

She wasn't telling Lark the full truth. She planned on telling Figgis and Sam about Malcolm's room, but the note...the note had felt personal. It was between her and whoever had left it. She wanted to figure out what it meant on her own. Besides, bringing it up would only alarm everyone more—like Lark, who was shaking her head, her eyes swimming back and forth.

"This is not good. I don't like you being in danger like this."

"Me neither, but I'm in it. I told Malcolm we should drop out of the competition."

"What did he say?"

"He didn't listen to me, as usual."

"Hmph." Lark gave her a hard look. "And what's all this about the other man in your life? Quinn, of all people?"

"Please don't get mad and ruin this for me. I like him."

"But I warned you. The rumors about him—"

"He told me. He told me about the rumors and also the truth. About his past and the things he's gone through. I believe him."

Lark put on a doe-eyed look, gazing upward, as she clasped her hands hopefully. "He's just misunderstood. No one understands him like I do. He really cares about me."