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Cal nodded. 'Her and Aaron both.'

'What of your real mother? Did you know her? Is she still alive?'

Cal clenched his teeth. 'She lived in the far north—a Priestess of the Dragon—that's all I know, and that she had a Cruaxee. The order sent me to the King when I was born, and my father never saw her again.'

'I'm sorry,' she said.

He laughed. 'Don't be. I never knew her, but I hope she brought my father joy for the short time they knew each other.'

'Did the King treat you well?'

'Yes. That's what made the Queen Mother despise me most. He wanted me to take the throne after his death. He saw the truth of my half-siblings, and it sickened him to think they would one day lead his lands.'

Fyia blew out a breath. 'It's the perfect tale for a bard.'

Cal laughed and kissed the top of her head. 'They'd probably twist it into a sickly love story.'

'Part of me hopes so,' said Fyia. 'I'm a sucker for a sickly love story.'

'No,' said Cal, unable to believe it. 'Tell me you're joking …'

She laughed. 'I am not. Myths and legends and epic love … and don't pretend you're not tempted by mysteries from the past, or you wouldn't be here. That, and you want to ride a dragon.' She raised an eyebrow, and he didn't miss her double meaning.

'I would love to ride a dragon,' he said, squeezing her backside, 'but we shouldn't linger; there is much to do.'

Fyia groaned and buried her face in his neck. It made his chest constrict, and when they sat, he pulled her lips to his, their kiss long and lingering. He could happily spend the day lying here with her … maybe even a span of days, or a cycle of the moon … the thought was disturbing. There were few he could tolerate for more than a few turns of the clock before feeling suffocated under the weight of their presence.

He dropped a final, chaste kiss on her lips, then stood, for if he didn't do it now, he never would.

Cal and Fyia climbed the wide, magnificent steps that led from the throne room to the outside world. The enormous temple doors had been frozen open, and once, the whole length of the steps had allowed access to the temple, but as they climbed, they entered a narrow tunnel through the ice, emerging through a hole barely big enough for a single person. They blinked against the bright sunshine as they stepped out into the clear, blue-skied morning.

They'd filled their pockets with small dragon scales—Cal apparently trusting that Fyia would give most of them back—and he'd hooked his cloak around Fyia's shoulders. He'd looked like he might kiss her again, but had pulled away. It was probably for the best, or so she told herself.

'I'll find us breakfast,' said Cal, as they stepped onto the snow, heading for the tree line. Fyia luxuriated in the feel of the sun on her face, almost missing the flash of movement in the trees, but Cal didn't. He pushed her behind him and drew his sword as four tanned men stepped out of the trees.

The men wore brightly colored woolen coats, tassels hanging from their round hats that immediately identified them as belonging to the Kraken Empire. But what in the Seven Hells were they doing here?

'You have it?' one said, moving towards them.

'Have what?' said Cal, tracking them with his sword. Fyia had no weapon, but she felt for her Cruaxee, searching frantically for wolves or eagles nearby. She found an eagle, bonded, and summoned it to her. He would probably arrive too late, but she had to do something.

'The ball,' said the same man, his accent lilting.

'Ball?' said Cal, doing a good job of feigning ignorance.

'We know you set off the traps,' the man said, as the others fanned out around them.

Warrior's balls.This was bad.

'What are you talking about?' said Cal, putting on a frustrated tone so good it almost convinced Fyia.

But the man was done talking. He lunged for Cal, swinging a braided rope at Cal's sword while swiping with a short sword of his own. Cal dodged, and Fyia caught the rope a fraction of a tick before the man whipped it back. She grabbed the weight at the end and pulled with all her might.

She caught the man off guard, and he stumbled forward, right onto Cal's waiting blade.

'I thought you weren't a warrior,' Cal said, through a disbelieving laugh.

'I'm not. But I am plucky.'