Bone Walker by Angela Korra'ti

weren’t familiar with the northern parts of the city. But I
had
grown up here. And I’d just spent two months walking all over every square inch of the place in the company of both of its Warders.
    So I knew that 145th was the official border between Seattle and the much smaller community of Lake Forest Park.
    Under normal circumstances, Christopher should certainly have known it too. Millie had drilled the city’s size and shape and borders into his head often enough. Comprehension finally sparked in his eyes as he followed my pointing hand, though it didn’t dispel his confusion. “That’s impossible,” he rasped. “I shouldn’t have been… it… feels like my city.”
    I stared up at him, just as confused as he was. Truth be told, there wasn’t much difference in terrain or general urban layout between the north and south sides of the dividing line, especially when viewed from the Burke-Gilman Trail. And I wasn’t exactly an inexperienced observer. But neither was I a Warder. Was there something I’d missed in the heat of battle? Was there something
Christopher
had missed?
    Melisanda stood watching us, more or less impassively, yet with a glint to her eyes that I was sure meant a far more avid interest than she was willing to let on. Not quite ready to go into this in front of her, I hedged, “Right then, sounds like another reason to get back to Millie—” Then I caught myself. “Either of you see what happened to the little girl?”
    â€œShe vanished,” Melisanda said. I started to protest that yes, I knew that and that was why I was asking, but she held up a hand to forestall me. “Magically. Did you not sense what she was?”
    Frowning, conscious of how my shoulders were beginning to tremble with the effort of supporting Christopher and yet unable to find the energy to get us moving, I admitted, “I caught something, but I barely touched the kid.”
    I was almost afraid to ask for more. And oddly enough, the Seelie woman blew out a long breath, making her seem almost as nervous about imparting the information as I was about requesting it. “I suppose you would not have had reason to learn,” she murmured. Then she, too, caught herself and added, “Miss Thompson, that child was a dragon.”
----
    He couldn’t remember how long Luciriel had imprisoned him; he’d lost track. Not that the flow of time ever meant much in the Unseelie Court. The eternal cycle of hours and days held true in Faerie just as it did in the mortal realm, but all it took to bend it was a little magic, properly applied. As the Queen of Air and Darkness, Luciriel had magic to spare.
    Elessir was certain, though, that he hadn’t truly slept since before the Queen had confined him. Nor had he slept properly now, with shards of nightmare still periodically slicing across his mind. But this time he woke with a hazy, gritty feeling in his head that suggested he’d just gotten, at least in bits and pieces, something within shouting distance of rest.
    Not enough—stars, he was still so exhausted that he could scarcely stand the thought of opening his eyes. The killing cold was beginning to fade from his flesh, but the memory of it still lodged behind his breastbone. He couldn’t even muster relief that it was gone; too much of him, deep in his blood and bones, was shrieking at its absence.
    It felt as if he’d lost Melorite all over again.
    Never had her
, Elessir ruthlessly reminded himself. Not even in the long-ago days when they’d both been young and Melorite as close as she’d ever been to innocence. Memory whirled, without his conscious control, back to how it’d felt to have her arms twined around his neck, to the triumph of learning from her how to release the power of his singing. But those recollections only aggravated the echo of frost that still haunted his every nerve.
    Need surged up through