Chapter 237: Dragon His Feet Would Not Help

DOVE’S POV

Dove took the transfer notice to the security office in daylight, with both husbands beside her and absolutely no intention of being grateful for it.

The office stood near Base B’s north gate, across from the practice yard. Its public entrance led into a waiting room with benches, a duty desk, and a door into the officers’ rooms. She stayed at the desk where the other people waiting could hear.

"I’d like my name removed," she said, laying down the notice.

The clerk read it. "This is for your protection."

"Then you’ll be pleased to hear I don’t consent. You can protect that."

Edrik’s hand rested lightly at the back of her waist. Thorne stood close enough that she could feel his warmth without either man blocking her from the desk.

The clerk called an officer. The officer called someone else. Dove waited through both conversations, increasingly convinced that a clipboard could make a bad idea travel farther than it deserved.

Ash came out of the side room before the second officer finished speaking. His lip still showed the practice-yard split. Dove noticed it and returned her attention to the notice.

"There was no approval to move these women without asking them," Ash said.

The older officer gave him a warning look. "We are trying to keep order."

"Then don’t send a pickup crew to her door."

Dove looked at Ash. He was angry, visibly so, but he had not called her his or offered his own room as the solution. That was a low bar. She still noticed when he managed to clear it.

She tapped the list. "Remove the other names too, unless those women agreed. This isn’t a hotel booking."

It took the morning and statements from two other households, but the order was withdrawn. The clerk marked the scheduled pickups canceled in front of them and sent a runner to the gate team that would have carried them out. Dove kept a copy. She wanted the refusal to survive after she left the room.

Outside, she breathed more easily than she had since the officer stopped them outside the practice yard.

"That," she said, "was an excellent use of being a pain in the ass."

Thorne kissed her temple. "One of your best."

Edrik glanced back toward the office. "They should have crossed it out the first time you asked."

"Yes, but then you wouldn’t have had an excuse to make that face for three hours."

He looked down at her, amused despite himself. She squeezed his hand and let the win stay a win.

Ash followed them only as far as the doorway. His superior called him back sharply enough for people on the benches to look up. Dove heard the first sentence about undermining orders, then chose not to stand there watching him be reprimanded.

She slowed when the officer raised his voice. Then Edrik’s fingers brushed hers, and she kept walking. She had spent the morning being argued over. She wanted lunch with her husbands, somewhere nobody needed an answer from her.

Through the following day, the cancellation held. No pickup crew came. Iris confirmed that the other women named in the notice had also been left in their chosen rooms. Iris said one of the other women had chosen to remain with an injured husband rather than move into better rooms alone. Dove was glad that choice still belonged to her.

Dove slept better for it.

The heat did not improve. Shop hours shifted earlier, and workers carried water before the pavement became painful through thin soles. Dove sold useful stock in those cooler hours, then closed while she could still think clearly. She checked their stored food, kept meals substantial, and refused to let the men call standing in full sun an acceptable hobby.

One afternoon, she found Thorne showing his father the generator setup. The older man asked ordinary questions about fuel and noise. Thorne answered them with the pleased seriousness of a son showing something he had helped make work.

Dove stayed in the doorway and watched until Edrik slid an arm around her.

"You look happy," he murmured.

"Don’t tell anyone. I’ve built a very difficult reputation."

He kissed her cheek anyway.

On the third morning, a public casualty-transport drill closed part of the practice yard. Dove stopped to watch because the flight straps looked very different from seeing Ash’s shadow pass above a road.

In dragon form, he stood in the cleared space while trained workers secured a single weighted adult-sized load. They checked the fastening, moved everyone beyond his wings, and signaled him forward. He lifted, crossed to the marked landing area beyond the nearest buildings, and came down heavily enough to raise dust.

He landed squarely, lowered the secured load, and waited while the handlers checked its straps. The training yard stayed clear of his wings. Strength was not the difficulty; fitting a frightened, injured person safely against that much moving muscle would take care. He wanted another attempt. The drill leader made him wait until the handlers were ready.

Dove remembered that. A short flight, space to take off, someone waiting where he landed. Useful things to know, without making the dragon an answer to every road they could not use.

Ash emerged dressed and found her at the fence. Hope crossed his face before he could hide it.

She could have pretended not to notice. Instead, she gave him a small nod for the work, then turned when Thorne touched her elbow.

They had promised his father lunch.

Ash did not follow them through the gate. She felt his attention anyway, heavy enough that she looked back once. He stood beside the water barrel, still watching the space she had left.

At the annex kitchen, there was meat stew, rice, and a basket of bread cooling beneath a cloth. Dove sat between her husbands while Thorne’s father argued cheerfully with another volunteer about portions.

Then the delivery clerk came in carrying a radio sheet.

The next sealed-water shipment had been canceled. The road crew could not clear the damaged approach before the afternoon heat, and the depot had no new dispatch time.

Dove set down her spoon.

The clerk turned the sheet around. Beside the canceled delivery, somebody had written how many households still needed their containers filled.

Dove looked at the number, then at the children carrying empty cups toward the kitchen.