Page 170 of Nine-Tenths
And instead he'd been forced to take on a sprawling area, still wet with the blood of the people slain defending it from the Americans, cutting the Onguiaahra territory in half.
Surely there must have been more Onguiaahra dragons who had been stewarding that parcel. Everything I'm learning tells me that Onatah can't oversee it all on her own. She must have cousins, siblings, a community. Not an empire, not the way Elizabeth Regina commands the far-flung territories of the world from the top down, but afamily. And those dragons in her family were denied, squished into a smaller space with fewer humans, while greedier dragons took more than they could ever need, more than they could ever guide, and let the humans under their care suffer for it simply because they wanted more. They’re so remote, so distant, it’s like they don’t even exist.
I mean, I didn’t even know who Davwas.
Even now, I have no idea who commands Orillia, where I grew up.
"I've already been fucked in as many ways as they can fuck me," Onatah says. "Which means I have to stay, princess."
"I understand," I say.
Onatah's phone pings in her pocket, and she ambles over to the window to track a motorcycle coasting up the street.
"And that's my time up," she says. "I wish you both the best of luck. Let me know if I can send you anything."
"Of course," Dav says, and we follow her out to the street.
I offer Onatah the bow with my fist over my heart, and she snorts and gives me a careful hug—moving slowly when Dav tenses—with no skin-to-skin contact.
"He's your problem now," she whispers in my ear.
"He sure is."
"Take care of him, eh?"
The bike parks right beside the café, and Onatah swings her leg over the seat to nestle in close behind someone wearing a face-obscuring helmet. "Let's go home, Nîcimos," she tells the driver, and they're off before I can shout after them:
"Hey! Wait, no! Hold on, I want to meet—! Aw, fuck."
"Our own ride is coming, Mine Own," Dav says, putting away his phone.
"That was—!"
"I'm aware."
I point a sharp finger at his nose. "I'm gonna meet them one day," I threaten. "I'm gonnabefriendthem and there's nothing you jelly sneks can do about it."
Dav laughs. "If you say so."
"Now you're just humoring me."
Hadi steps outside to join us, unsettled by everything that’s been confessed. She's flipping her keys in her hand, over and over,click click click, a metronome keeping time with her discomfort.
Don't think about having to attend Hadi's funeral in half a century. Don't think about her getting old, and sick, while you stay the same. Don't think of her dying so soon when she doesn't have to. Don't… don't…
Without warning, Hadi cups my face in my hands, squishes my cheeks. "Congrats, Colin."
"Hadi—" I start sadly. She sniffles once, but forces a bright smile. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm fucking happy for you, you jerk. Helovesyou and he's trying to change the whole stupid world for you. He loves your stupid clothes—"
"He doesn’t, actually."
"—and your self-deprecating humor, and your drive, and that thing you do with your tongue—"
"You can't possibly know about that!" I squawk.
"What, you don’t think that Rebekah didn't kiss and tell, do you?"
