“Elspeth,” Orla cried, bursting into the Palebloom dining room. “Elspeth, something’s wrong with my face.”
Elspeth set down her tea and swung her legs away from the bay window, concern replacing whatever previous thought she’d had. She hopped off the sil and gestured for Orla to sit in one of the dining chairs. Orla sat hard, twisting her hands in her lap to contain a worried shake.
Orla’s reflection had changed rapidly over the year. With spring came gained weight, less fatigue, more colour to her cheeks, more volume to her hair. She looked less and less like a brittle, dead leaf that would crunch underfoot and more like a healthy, young girl.
She hadn’t realized her conflicted feelings about her reflection until she felt better, fuller. She wouldn’t have called herself self-conscious, but before, she couldn’t help noticing the bruise-coloured hollows under her eyes, or the way her bones strained against the surface of her skin, or the unknowable black growths that cropped up whenever she was exposed to magic. She didn’t want to avoid the mirror or grow resentful, and she observed it with a sort of passive acceptance. It was her body, and she hadn’t chosen to be ill. But Syngorn hadn’t wanted her, and sometimes, it felt like her body hadn’t wanted her, either.
She expected any further changes to be related to what had already changed—she didn’t expect a new mystery condition. She didn’t want anymore surprises from her body, not really. She wanted consistency, and she had finally gotten it. She didn’t want to lose all the progress they’d made.
Elspeth’s hands cupped her face, thumbs palpating along her cheeks. The marks were oblong, sprouting along her cheekbones in a symmetrical pattern. They were colourless, almost clear like a snake’s moult, and they had a smooth texture unless she went against the grain, which caused them to lift slightly. She’d had zits before, but nothing like this.
Elspeth leaned back with a dawning grin and swiftly grabbed her hands. Orla relaxed—it couldn’t be a problem if Elspeth was excited.
“Orla, holy shit. I think these are dragon scales. Like mine!”
“Dragon scales?” she ventured. “They’re not gunna hurt me, right?”
“No, no,” Elspeth soothed. She swelled with a lungful of air, trying to calm herself, but remained grinning. “They might itch as they grow in, but mine have never hurt me. I promise you’re fine; it’s not demon acne, or whatever.” She tapped along Orla’s cheeks with two fingers. “Are there patches like this on your knees, along your spine, and your shoulders?”
Orla glanced down at her skirt, then shrugged a shoulder out of her blouse, revealing the same patchwork of changing skin. “Uh-huh.”
Elspeth squealed through a closed mouth, tugging Orla to her feet and skipping a half-circle with her. “We’re like scale buddies! We should tell Raidak, I’m sure he’d be super interested to see this. I bet he can confirm it for sure, too.”
Orla couldn’t contain a smile. “Do you know what colour they’ll be?”
Elspeth retrieved her tea and chugged it. “If it’s related to Raishan, probably green. It’ll match your spring colours!”
“Green,” Orla confirmed, vertiginous with relief.
“This is a good thing, Orla,” Elspeth said. “A good change. I promise. You’ll be stronger for it. You’ll have magic of your own.” She snagged Orla’s elbow with hers. “Let’s go!”
