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“A... baby,” Eyfura supplied, her bright green eyes wide and unblinking in her face. “A human baby.”

His snarl turned into a growl. “It’s a monster.”

The declaration struck her like a blow.A monster.She shook her head. “No.”

Asger didn’t hear her. Or at least he didn’t acknowledge her. His sleek skin flickered like firelight through stained glass, amber struck by the sun.

“Destroy the thing.” He lifted his great taloned hand toward the baby, his talons glinting and ready to slice the little body to shreds.

“No!” Yrsa moved quickly, unthinking. Purely reacting. She flung herself before the fur-draped basket that held the naked child wiggling its plump little legs.

Asger’s narrow pupils vibrated and throbbed within his red-gold eyes. She knew what that meant. He only ever looked that way before battle.

“Yrsa,” he chided firmly. “I know you’re feeling things right now, but this is not right. It is a human child.”

A human. The enemy. Responsible for the ruin of dragonkind.

“It came from me. Fromus.”

He shook his head, his fiery skin catching the light cast from a wall torch, making him look feral and dangerous. “It’s not natural. It must be a curse...”

Eyfura nodded. “Aye. A witch’s work, no doubt.”

“We cannot keep it. Cannot allow it to exist.” Asger sent a waryglance toward the opening of their den, his voice falling to a hush. “We shouldn’t let the others see it either. It will not help morale.” He shuddered as though the shame of that terrified him.

She swept her gaze over the rosy-cheeked newborn, confirming what she suspected. From the beginning she had thought she carried a daughter. She’d felt it deep within her, as certain as she was that the sun would rise on the morrow. She had known it. So why had she not knownthis?

Why had she not known there would be no hatchling? Why hadn’t she known that she would give birth to a human?

“Stop callingheranit. She is ours. Our daughter.” Yrsa didn’t know where her fierce determination came from, but it throbbed within her like a heartbeat that wouldn’t quit. Short of death, she would not be stopped from saving this child.

Asger growled. “Don’t say that.” He flicked his hand out at his side, his talons snapping wide and flashing in the air like sun striking steel. “Now stand aside, Yrsa.”

A growl awoke and stirred in her chest. It was instinctive. This need to defend, to protect what was hers. Be it dragon or human, this baby was hers. As essential as air, as necessary as bones to a body. She could not hand the child over for death. To kill this baby would be to end her.

“I’ll make it quick,” he added, as though that would be a comfort to her.

Yrsa loved Asger. They belonged to each other. There had never been a moment of strife between them. They had worked together to build a life, to survive, to protect their fading pride. A hatchling had been their dream. Their hope for the future.

It was her dream still, even if no longer his.

Swallowing, Yrsa carefully modulated her voice to reveal none of the desperation trembling inside her, bubbling magma deep beneath the surface. “I will do it.” She placed a hand on his sinewy arm, his sleek scaled skin tensing under her touch. His fiery gaze locked on her, but he permitted her to ease his arm down.

He studied her doubtfully. “Are you certain?”

“She came from me.” Yrsa paused at the sight of the ridges along the bridge of his nose contracting. “I will be the one to end her,” she insisted. “It should be me.”

He nodded. “Very well.”

Turning, she gathered the basket up into her arms.

“Where are you taking—”

“I will do it,” she cut him off. “My way.”

The firelit skin of his face glinted, the strong lines of his cheekbones appearing more pronounced, sharp enough to cut stone and as unyielding as the mountains shrouding them.

Either he was worried for her... or he did not trust her. “Yrsa—”