The Vanishing Sculptor
“Tipper’s legs surprised her by refusing to provide support. She and Bealomondore were labeled “novice riders” and told to sit under a tree and gently massage their legs while Grandur and Zabeth worked healing on their stiff muscles. The others busied themselves with removing the saddles and rubbing down the dragons in appreciation for their cooperation.“You’re better off than I am,” Tipper complained. “You, at least, walked over here by yourself.”Bealomondore laughed at her. “The prince did not... insist on carrying me. You probably could have walked had he given you the chance.”“I don’t think my father and Beccaroon appreciated the prince’s gallantry.”“They probably thought of it more as presumption.”“Well, Beccaroon couldn’t carry me, and my father—” She stopped. She didn’t want to voice what had come to her mind.“I know,” said Bealomondore in a low voice. “I’m worried too. Even in the short time since I met your father, I’ve seen a drain on his energy.”Tipper felt a buzz in her head.MoreLess
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