Page 3 of The Dragon King’s Pet

Mika pouted, but knew better than to try the “I’m eighteen, I can do what I want” line with him. Her father was immune to arguments like that, and he always seemed to be able to find some way to make her life almost impossibly difficult if she tried them. He had an almost perverse talent for making sure everyone in his purview behaved as he wanted them to—and for a long time, she had not been an exception.

That was about to change. She was going to Ibiza, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “I guess we’ll have to do something else.”

She slid away from the table, hiding her frustration and her anger.

“Don’t sulk,” her mother called after her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mother,” Mika called back, failing to hide her bitter tone as she ascended the stairs quickly, blinking back tears of frustration. Why couldn’t they ever just say yes? Why were they always trying to interfere in her life?

* * *

“She’s going to make us feel guilty as sin,” Kate said to Vilka.

“Then we’re doing our job,” Vilka replied. “She is innocent. I will not send her into a den of drug pushers and sex addicts.”

“You’re right, of course. But…” Kate mused, chewing at the frame of her glasses. “At some point, she’s going to have to leave the nest, Vilka.”

“When she’s twenty-one, or eighty-one. Or whenever the laws of this country say I can no longer have sway over her decisions.”

“Technically, that time has already come and gone,” Kate said. “She’s not our little dinosaur anymore, Vilka. We need to give her some measure of freedom, or she’ll just rebel and there won’t be a thing we can do to stop her. She is right. She’s eighteen. There’s no law stopping her from flying internationally and…”

“This country’s obsession with freedom is tedious at times,” Vilka snapped. “It is overrated in my opinion.”

“It was better where you’re from, where women are locked away if they don’t do as they’re told?”

“Yes,” Vilka scowled at his wife. “My life was much easier when I could lock you up.”

“No, it wasn’t. Besides, you didn’t want an easy life,” Kate reminded him. “You wanted a life with me and Mika. This is just one more challenge—in letting go. We don’t own her.”

Her husband’s eyes narrowed at her. “Do not tell me you are considering giving permission for this trip.”

“No,” Kate said. “It’s too far, and it’s too dangerous. But when she comes to us with something that’s even remotely sane, I think we should say yes.”

* * *

Mika was not defeated. She had known that her parents would likely refuse and she had a plan to deal with their resistance. First she left the matter a few days to make them think that she had forgotten all about it. Then she came to them with an alternative they really couldn’t say no to—a summer school in upstate New York offering pre-college classes.

She already knew that her parents would approve of it; it was tedious, boring, and totally sexless. According to the prospectus, she’d be spending eight hours a day working on chemistry and physics and mathematics. All subjects in which her mother had an innate talent, and all subjects in which Mika felt as though her brain was being forced to swim through jelly when she tried to contemplate them. She was much more her father’s daughter in many respects, more given to physical activities and the pursuit of beauty.

This time, they agreed, not just to let her go, but to pay for it all and to give her some space of her own.

“I have to get used to being on my own, Mom,” she said as she stood at the door, her bags packed not with sensible warm clothes for the cooler temperatures upstate, but bikinis and miniskirts that were practically uniform requirements on Ibiza. “I’ll call, but you can’t hover over me all the time. I need to get used to being independent, you know? Plus I’m going to be studying a lot.”

Her mother smiled indulgently. “So you’re saying you don’t want us to visit every weekend? Or call every hour?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Mika said. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Her father wrapped her in a bear hug. “Be good,” he murmured. “Remember, we love you very much.”

“I’ll be good,” she promised. “I always am.”

She pushed the rising guilt away and plastered a smile on her face as her mother and father waved her down the stairs toward the waiting cab—and the rest of her life.

CHAPTER 3

“The subject is on the move.”