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“Spontaneous combustion. Your mother and I both ascended without outside influence.”
Of course. My parents had more pride than they knew what to do with. “Of course. That is because you are the best dragons on the planet, obviously. When I was in Dragon Heights, I heard something about pilgrims.”
“Ah. You must have heard about the people being murdered at the shrines. It’s been on the news. Knowing you, you probably like a dragon-kin, as a friend, and you’re convinced he’ll be murdered.”
“Dragons think I’m just an interesting human,” I admitted.
My father laughed so hard I worried he would choke to death before he reined in his humor. “One day, someone is going to piss you off enough you’re going to sprout wings and scales. You are my child, and one day, you will fly. Mark my words. But if the pilgrim issue worries you, then you need to do what you do best. You aren’t going to be changing your colors anytime soon, not without good reason. The lack of jurisdiction and resources is but a small obstacle for you.”
“You have an overly inflated view of my general superiority, Dad.”
Once again, he laughed at me. “It’s my job as your father to be proud of you and your accomplishments. Use your heritage to seek out justice. That is what you do best. At first, your Erik didn’t understand why you would throw yourself onto the altar of self-sacrifice, but we explained it to him. And after a few months as a captain, he reached the same conclusions you had. Instead of deterring him, it firmed his resolve. It’s good for young dragon women to be vigorously hunted by their men. Your mother made me put up quite the fight before she took pity on me, so don’t be shy about running Erik around. You proved your dedication to his cause. Give him a chance to prove his dedication to your cause.”
“I broke up with him to save his dream.”
“Yes. I know that, you know that, your mother knows that, and Erik understands that better than you likely prefer. You need time to think about that, so let me ask a question. Are you all right?”
I checked on Garnet to discover my kitten had fallen asleep on my lap. “I have a kitten. I’m better than all right.”
As far as lies went, I told a mostly harmless one. Any time I only hurt myself, I considered it to be my victory. With Garnet, I wouldn’t be alone. Until I cracked the cases, I enjoyed having a solid purpose in life.
Later, I would worry about what the future would hold.
“Good. Just be patient with your carbunclo. She needs you even more than you need her, and they don’t take well to being alone. Just teach her to use her secondary form often when you’re out and about. And Kinsley?”
“Yes, Dad?”
“Be grateful yours loves mashed potatoes. There are far more expensive foods out there.”
“Trust me, Dad, I am. Tell Mom I love her, okay?”
“I’m not even telling your mother you called. If I do, she might try to add the phone to her hoard. Please send me my own letter next time, okay?”
“I feel someone should have warned me that parents become quite needy later in life. I’ll send you your own letter next time, Dad.”
“Preferably with your home address on it instead of yet another random city somewhere in the world.”
I snorted. “Keep dreaming. Love you, give Mom a hug for me without telling her why you’re hugging her, and text me if there’s something important you need to talk to me about.”
“Will do. Love you, too. And Kinsley, please do try to limit any trouble you get into to manageable levels. Erik can’t ride to the rescue until he knows where you’re at.”
“Are you saying I can get into trouble but only if Erik is around to play at being a rescuer?” My father would drive me crazy one day. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It is sensible! And it’s more fun to get into trouble with someone. Imagine how much trouble you could have caused as a child had you joined forces with Erik then.”
“No, Dad. I am not going to indulge your overactive and flighty imagination. Don’t tell Erik where you think I’m at. I’m going to need literal rescue should he show up. I will cry. And once I start crying, it’ll take a miracle to get me to stop. I do not want to cry.”
“You’d only be crying from the pure joy of having your fiancé back where he belongs, and that’s allowed. Crying is not illegal.”
“And when was the last time you cried?” I challenged.
“From laughter?” Dad asked. “Yesterday, actually. Your mother started doing impressions of some snoots she had to deal with, and she did a marvelous job of it. From remorse? It’s been a while. Call it four or five years. From grief? More recently than I prefer. You rarely saw me cry while you were growing up for one reason alone: I knew it would make you cry. You couldn’t handle the distress of others, not until after you became a cop. Then you still couldn’t handle the distress of others, but you had an outlet. Compassion is a good trait, although it hurts sometimes.” My father paused. “Most times, really.”
“Do you think I made the wrong choice, Dad?”
“No, Kinsley. You didn’t make the wrong choice. You made the only choice you could both live with. You understood Erik much better than Erik, at the time, understood himself. And now that he has a better understanding, he sees the value of the choice you made. He changed. Only one question remains: will you? I love you, take your time thinking about it, and give your kitten some love for me.”
My father hung up, and long after the call ended, I held the phone to my ear and pondered his words.