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NO.

No. She was Layala Lightbringer; the blood of the gods ran through her veins. Lay down and die? Never. She thrust out her free hand and roared with the fury of the dragon’s fire that careened toward her. Her body felt ablaze, not with the dragon’s breath but with the might of the sun. The squall of blazing orange flames arched around her the same way water spread around rock. It crackled and sizzled, deafening in its violent assault, but she felt none of the scorch.

Somewhere in the distance, Thane bellowed her name, a heartbreaking cry that said he thought she was gone, but she’d conjured a protective shield of some kind. Her brows furrowed. Somewhere deep down she knew she was capable of this, but how could it be? It wasn’t vines and lilies protecting her but an invisible force more powerful than flame and fury.Touch it, something seemed to say. Slowly, she reached forward with her fingertips as the assaulting fire hammered. Fingers brushed against the shield. It was no hotter than the air she breathed. Her magic hummed with an uncomfortable intensity. Instinct said to place her palm flat against it. Unafraid, she did. The shield curled forward, and a bright, white light burst into an explosion that rocked the ground. The combined force of her newfound power and the fire, burst and crashed into Prince Yoren. With a keening yelp, his colossal form hurtled backward. He flailed until his head slammed into the arena’s stone wall. He didn’t get up.

Goddess of war indeed. She grew a slow, almost maniacal smile. Thane was right all along. Theyshouldfear her. All of them. A swell of pride bubbled in her. She took down a dragon. Where had this power come from?

A wild mane of dark hair and the terrified face of her lover appeared before her. Thane grasped at her shoulders then her face as if he couldn’t believe she stood before him. The sorrow melted into disbelief, and he pulled her into his chest. “I thought you were dead. I thought—how did—what—” he stumbled over his words like a child learning to speak.

She couldn’t explain what she did, so she slowly shook her head with her jaw hanging open.

With a sigh of relief, Thane grabbed her face between his dirty, gritty palms and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I love you. I love you.” He kept repeating between kisses. “Don’t ever scare me like that. Don’t you dare leave me.” A salty dampness from his face rubbed off onto hers.

“I’m still here.” Somehow. She smiled up at Thane and wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. It was in that moment, the silence around them invaded. Her gaze swept across the arena where ten thousand dragon shifters watched.

Ronan leapt over the ledge from the canopied area he sat in with his royal parents and Piper and dropped to the ground. He marched toward them with determination. His silvery-blond hair waved behind him as regal as any cloak. Layala tensed, gripping the scepter tighter. It was hers, fair and square. She didn’t expect applause when they defeated the dragon prince, but silence was worse than boos and jeers.

Prince Yoren’s dragon morphed into his human form, and he groaned, clutching at the back of his head. At least he wasn’t dead. Maybe that was what the crowd waited to see. But still only the caw of crows, squawk of vultures, and Ronan’s heavy footfalls broke the quiet.

Ronan stopped before Thane and Layala. He looked back and forth between them and then lowered to one knee. No praise left his lips, but the gesture said more than words.

Layala gripped Thane’s hand. She didn’t know what she expected but it wasn’t that.

Soon, many in the stands sunk to their knees, like a wave they caught on. Thane squeezed her hand back, keeping her steady. His head turned, taking it all in. The red canopy shielding the king and queen from the bright sun, snapped in the wind. The queen smiled and lowered to her knees and the king followed.

“They’re—they’re,” she could hardly believe what played out before her very eyes, “kneeling to us. The entire dragon court.”

Thane cleared his throat. “I believe they’re kneeling to you.”

Chapter38

Agroup of guards marched out from one of the large arena doors with spears in hand. Their leader was the male with salt-and-pepper hair they’d first encountered outside the castle a few days ago. Layala stiffened, itching to reach for her sword, and tamped down her bubbling magic. She doubted they came looking for a fight after the display of honor she had just witnessed but it was hard to pack down that instinct to always be ready.

The lead guard placed his palm flat over his stomach dipped from the waist then stood erect. “Congratulations on successfully earning the scepter, son and daughter of Runevale. You have proven to us you are descended from the old gods. Please, come with us to a secure area.”

* * *

Layala’sblack gown glittered from shoulder to feet, hugging every curve of her body like a glove. The high neck covered her cleavage but the sleeveless nature of it allowed the cool breeze in. The scepter now hung on a chain around her neck, shrunk to about an inch long, even smaller than when Prince Yoren wore it.

The rakes across her forearm from the wyvern attack itched, almost like they scabbed now. She hadn’t removed the bandage to see but she had a feeling her body healed more rapidly than it ever had before, like her mate. As if the more she used her magic the stronger she grew and the more the traits of the gods showed in her.

The dewy glass in Layala’s handtinkedwith ice as she brought the lip of the cold white wine to her lips and stared out at the gathering. She didn’t want to be here among the richly-dressed onlookers who watched her with a newfound curiosity. The whispers behind hands and lips close to ears said some believed she and Thane were sent from the gods. Others were more skeptical and questioned their place here. They were strangers after all, who came in and defeated their prized prince in front of the entire dragon kingdom. Not everyone believed the legends long foretold. Some, she gathered, didn’t believe in other realms at all. They were just fables from an earlier age.

There would only be one way to find out and that was using the scepter and stone in the security of the temple. The temple built to the old gods was close by, or at least that was what the king and queen relayed to them earlier. Anxiety coursed through her, anticipation for what might happen when they did put the two magical items together and she was stuck tapping her toes at this social gathering, forcing a smile at people she cared nothing for. It was a waste of time. Meanwhile Varlett must be lurking in the shadows somewhere set on ruining their plans. What hand did she have to play? She wouldn’t show herself without one. That wicked gleam in her eye before the match reeked of aspirations.

Thane stayed close to her side. His suit sleeve brushed against her skin at all times. He spoke with Leif, Siegfried, and Prince Ronan as if this were any old event back at his own castle. Prince Yoren sat on his throne next to his parents. He smiled at her occasionally, and she was thankful there were no harsh feelings between them.

Talk of the food and wine and important guests arriving carried on. She glanced around wondering where Piper and Fennan were. She hadn’t seen them since they stepped away several minutes before. She spotted them in the corner not far away, and the tension on Piper’s face was enough for her to tune everyone else out and strain to hear them.

“You’re seriously going to be angry with me?” Piper snapped. “For what? You’ve barely spoken to me since we arrived here.”

Fennan’s leaned his back against the wall. “I thought you were too preoccupied with Prince Ronan to even notice.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “And so what if I am? What if I appreciate that he actually shows me he likes me.”

“He only sees you as something to conquer, Piper.”

“You don’t know that.”