"Why?"
Hán Bīng’s lips curved.
"My daughter-in-law was invited. I ca to ensure she was not eaten."
"A reasonable precaution. The peaks are not known for their hospitality."
"I’m finding them adequate."
"Are you."
The two of them looked at each other. The crystals humd. The papers rustled. Gū Gū, who had been watching the exchange with growing interest, felt sothing shift in the air.
"Well," Wēn Jìng said brightly, "I’m Wēn Jìng! This is Gū Gū. And you’ve t Hán Bīng. We’re grandmothers. To the cubs. The ones who have been running around the peaks making friends with everyone. You might have heard of them?"
The dragon’s eyes flickered. "The lowlander cubs."
"The very sa! Yòu Lín ntioned you. He said you had very nice furs and a sad son and that you needed friends. He’s very good at identifying people who need friends. It’s a gift."
The dragon stared at her. "Your grandson told you about ."
"He told everyone about you. He’s very enthusiastic. He said you let him play with a carving and that you cried a little but pretended you didn’t. He thought that was very brave."
"He said I—" The dragon’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I did not cry."
"Of course you didn’t," Wēn Jìng said, and her voice was so warm, so gentle, so entirely without judgnt that Gū Gū almost believed her.
"I didn’t," the dragon insisted. "I was—there was dust. In the air. From the crystals. It’s a known irritant."
"Of course it is."
He stared at her for a long mont. Then, very slowly, his mouth twitched.
"You’re not what I expected," he said.
"What did you expect?"
"I don’t know. Sothing louder. The cubs are very loud. I assud their grandmothers would be louder."
"We can be loud," Gū Gū said. "We’re choosing not to be. It’s called restraint."
"Is it."
"It is."
The dragon looked at her stick. At her face. At the way she was standing, balanced and ready, the way she had stood for most of her life.
"You’re a warrior," he said.
"I’m a grandmother. Sotis I have to hit things."
"A grandmother who hits things."
"That’s what grandmothers do. We hit things. We feed people. We make sure our families survive." She grinned, and it was the grin she had worn when she was young, when the world was simpler and everything could be solved with a stick and a sharp tongue.
"What do you do, old dragon?" The snow leopard asked.
Elder Emberglow’s gaze drifted from Gū Gū’s stick to Hán Bīng’s face. A slow smile spread across his weathered features.
"I wait."
"Wait for what?"
His eyes never left Hán Bīng’s. "For sothing worth waking up for."
The cavern went very quiet.
Hán Bīng’s eyebrow arched. "And have you found it?"
"I’m not certain yet." He leaned back, his old bones creaking. "The view has improved considerably in the last few minutes, though."
Gū Gū’s mouth opened in shock. Was the dusty old dragon flirting? With the ice queen? The ice queen who had frozen warriors solid for looking at her wrong?
Hán Bīng’s lips curved.
"You’re bold for a dragon who lives in a cave."
"I’m old. I’ve earned the right to be bold."
"Old enough to know better."
"Old enough to know that waiting for the right mont is foolish. The right mont is whatever mont you’re in." He gestured at the chair across from him. "Sit. Tell why a snow leopard of the Northern peaks is wandering my tunnels."
Hán Bīng didn’t sit. But she didn’t leave either.
"I was bored."
"You were bored," he repeated.
"My daughter-in-law is making friends with storm princesses. My grandchildren are befriending every dragon in the peaks. My fellow grandmothers are—" she glanced at Gū Gū, "—being themselves. I required entertainnt."
"And you found your way to my cave."
"Your cave is at the end of a very long tunnel. I followed it."
"A wise choice."
"Was it?"
His eyes held hers. "I think so."
The crystals humd. The papers rustled. Gū Gū watched the ice queen’s face, waiting for the frost, the dismissal, the sharp words that always ca when soone presud to be interesting in her presence.
Hán Bīng’s cheeks were faintly pink.
He stood. He was taller than she expected, broader. He walked around his desk, moving slowly, carefully, like a creature who had forgotten he could move at all.
"I haven’t slept for a long ti," he said.
"Why not?"
He stopped in front of her. "No particular reason. Although, now I’m happy I didn’t."
Gū Gū choked.
Wēn Jìng’s hand closed around her arm. "We should go," the scholar-woman said, and her voice was too bright, too cheerful, too absolutely delighted.
"Go? We just—"
"The feast. Tonight. We need to prepare." Wēn Jìng was already pulling her toward the tunnel. "Hán Bīng, we’ll et you back at the quarters."
Hán Bīng didn’t look away from the dragon. "Yes. Fine. Later."
"Later," Elder Emberglow echoed.
Gū Gū tried to dig her heels in. "But—"
Wēn Jìng dragged her into the tunnel. The crystals flashed. The papers rustled. And behind them, Gū Gū heard sothing that made her blood run cold and hot at the sa ti.
Hán Bīng laughed.
A real laugh. Low and warm and nothing like the ice queen she had known for decades.
"What was THAT?" Gū Gū demanded, shaking off Wēn Jìng’s grip.
Wēn Jìng was grinning. "That was your fellow grandmother being chard by a very old, very patient dragon."
"She wasn’t—she doesn’t—the ice queen doesn’t get chard!"
"She just did."
"That was not charming. That was—" Gū Gū sputtered. "That’s not charming, that’s—that’s—"
"Romantic," Wēn Jìng supplied.
"It’s RIDICULOUS."
"It’s adorable."
"It’s—" Gū Gū stopped. Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you smiling like that?"
Wēn Jìng’s grin widened. "Because it’s fun!"
They had reached the courtyard. The afternoon light was blinding after the tunnels. And in the sky, descending toward one of the lower platforms, was a massive golden shape.
Cāng Jì.
In his dragon form.
Wings spread. Scales blazing. Circling down.
On his back, clinging to his scales, were two small shapes.
Orange fur. White fur.
Yòu Lín. Ruì Xuě.
Laughing.
Gū Gū’s stick hit the ground.
"Is that—" she started.
"Cāng Jì," Wēn Jìng said.
"With the cubs."
"With the cubs."
"Flying."
"Flying."
"Oh, they’re going to get it."
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