“YOU WILL HURT HER,” SAM’S GRANDMOTHER SAID. “You will hurt yourself.”
Hanalei stood at the foot of Princess Oliana’s bed, beside Sam. They were both weary, covered in travel dust. It would have been swifter for them to return home on Hanalei’s seadragon, but they had worried about the city guards. They would need to be warned first, about Hanalei’s rare, extraordinary marking, in case they shot first and asked questions later. Instead, Sam and Hanalei had raced their kandayos back to Tamarind City at a punishing speed. The others had been left behind.
“Your Grace,” Hanalei said, “the last thing your daughter did was try to protect me. I would like to help if I can.” She showed the queen her hands, covered in dragonscale scars. “To me, a cut is nothing. Truly. Please let me try.”
His grandmother took up her usual chair beside the bed. She wore a dress of emerald green, a yellow plumeria in her hair. Viti sat upon her shoulder. Ringed fingers drummed along the bedside table, then stopped. “Isko? What do you think?”
Lord Isko hobbled over with his walking stick. The wound to his leg was healing far too slowly for his liking. “First, whatever we decide, we cannot speak of it outside this chamber. Ever. Otherwise, Hanalei will be in danger for the remainder of her life. A target for kidnappers, for anyone who thinks her blood might be of use to them.”
“Agreed,” Sam said.
His grandmother dipped her head. “Agreed.”
“Thank you, Lord Isko,” Hanalei said.
His uncle regarded her for a long moment, but the cutting comment Sam half expected never came. His uncle bowed his head. “You are welcome, Lady.” He turned away from Hanalei’s startled expression and addressed the queen. “Second, Your Grace. Why do you worry about a cut to her hand? It would also be nothing to her.”
“And if it does not heal?” his grandmother countered. “If it continues to bleed away? It is not a normal sickness. There is no physician to tell us what is safe to do and what is not.” She allowed her words to settle. “Samahtitamah, what is your opinion?”
“I defer to you, Mai Mai.”
“No, grandson, in this I defer to you.” Her expression softened. “You are not a boy anymore. She is your mother.”
And she had been asleep for far too long. Sam did not hesitate. “She would hate this limbo. We have to try.”
Sam did it himself. He cut Hanalei’s palm first, and then his mother’s. Hanalei held her hand over his mother’s cut, watching as blood dripped and mingled. The blood of a new seadragon. Not stolen. Given freely. He wrapped Hanalei’s hand in fresh bandaging as Lord Isko tended to his mother.
And then they waited.
From morning until noon, into the darkest night. Hanalei fell asleep at the foot of the bed. His grandmother dozed in her chair. Lord Isko snored in his. Only Sam stayed awake, keeping vigil, and so it happened that he was the only one who saw when his mother’s eyes opened at last, near dawn.