Page 101 of Alora: The Maladorn Scroll (Alora 3)

“Still making your chocolate chip cookies crispy?”

Beth tried not to grin. “No comment.”

“Ha! I knew it.”

“Back to the subject at hand.” Beth tapped a fingernail on her front tooth. “We do have one more loose end to tie up, and it’s here in Montana.”

Chewing her lower lip, Alora tried to think, but couldn’t remember another issue. “What loose end? I must’ve forgotten.”

Beth’s mouth stretched in an ear-to-ear smile. “The community dance in Bozeman, at the end of the summer.”

**************

“You’re not really going to make me go to another dance, are you?” Alora asked Kaevin. She’d hoped the idea would be lost or the dance might be canceled. But, a month later, Beth had broached the subject again, receiving an enthusiastic response from Kaevin, as expected. Alora, on the other hand, would have preferred a less painful procedure, such as having her legs waxed.

Sitting on the couch beside her, Kaevin laughed, lost in the antics of Tom and Jerry.

She poked him with her elbow, careful to be sure she wasn’t near his stomach wound. The skin had closed up, the stitches gone, but the area remained tender. Alora remembered how it appeared right after the injury, as clearly now as the day it happened. And now, a month later, the image still made her stomach turn over.

“What?” He asked, his eyes watching the show.

“I was asking if you’re going to make me go to a dance when you know how bad I am.”

He shot a glance toward her, waggling his brows. “But I’m good enough for both of us.”

“You’re still injured. You shouldn’t strain yourself like that. Don’t you remember what Doc told you?”

“The dance is still a moon away. I’ll be healed by then.” His gaze was back on the television. “Ha! Did you see that?”

“Dances are bad luck for us, Kaevin. Last time, I transported all of us to Laegenshire by mistake.”

“Beth warned me about this...”

“What are you talking about? What did Beth warn you about?”

“Your gift.” Kaevin sighed, clicking the remote to turn off the television. Turning toward her, he took both her hands in his, gazing into her eyes with a serious expression.

“What gift?”

“Beth explained that you have a special gift for worrying about silly things and to expect you would attempt to sway my opinion concerning the dance.” He lifted her hands, turning them over to kiss her palms.

“Perhaps my special gift isn’t worry. Perhaps my gift is premonition.”

“Perhaps.” He kissed the skin on the underside of her arms, unconcerned about her scars.

“Hey, that tickles.”

Abruptly, he stood up, dragging her with him. “We should practice our dancing.”

“We don’t have any music.”

He pulled her into his arms. “I hear music whenever you’re with me.”

Alora’s heart did a little round-off-back-handspring inside her chest. “Oh Kaevin... that’s so—”

“Saccharin?” called a voice from behind the couch. Jireo climbed to his feet, holding onto the back for support. “Mawkish? Schmaltzy?”

“Seriously, Jireo?” Alora propped her hands on her hips. “You’re still inflicting us with Wesley’s words-of-the-day?”