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“I don’t know, but when we get back to Esan, I’ll scribe home and see if a search can be made through the archives.” He motioned to the capra at my feet. “Let’s get these over to the entrance so I can build the shields.”

We tugged them across, the two drakkons watching with interest and more than a little anxiousness on Gria’s part, mainly because she feared not getting her food, and hey, she was hungry.

“Do you need me to mark out a line in the stone with my sword again?” I asked.

He shook his head. “That was nothing more than a visual reminder of where the barrier was. In this case, the drakkons don’t need it, and it’s better if anyone coming in from the other side doesn’t know about it until they hit it.”

He bled the two capras, this time collecting their blood in two vessels rather than one, then glanced up at me. “I’m going to need a contribution from both you and Kele.”

“Me?” Kele squeaked. “Why?”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish about a little blood?”

“Hell no, not if it’s drawn in battle. But willingly sticking a knife in my own flesh? Hell yes.”

He laughed. “Well, your blood isn’t actually necessary for the spell, but it will mean you won’t get through the barrier I’m about to raise.”

She glanced at Gria, whose gaze remained on her meals rather than any of us, then sighed. “Fine. You can drain me of all life and energy.”

“It’s only a couple of drops from you each,” he replied, amused. “I can assure you, you won’t even feel the knife.”

She snorted but nevertheless walked over and held her finger out. “Best get it over and done with, then, before I change my mind.”

He shook his head, then, after rinsing his knife off, made a motion over it with his hand then took her finger and pressed the knife point into it.

Blood instantly welled, and surprise flitted across Kele’s expression. “That didn’t hurt.”

“Told you it wouldn’t.” He turned her finger around and let her blood drip into a third, much smaller vessel. By the time he released her hand, the wound was already closing.

“If blood mages have the ability to make an incision painless,” Kele said, stepping back, “why isn’t it more widely used? It’d sure make surgery a lot easier.”

“You forget blood mages are held in even less regard than Strega. Besides, sticking a knife in someone takes no skill, whereas repairing does.” He took my finger, his touch gentle, almost impersonal, and yet my body reacted almost violently. This really was getting ridiculous. The sooner I got this man into bed—or bath, or even on the goddamn table—and satiated desperate hormones, the better.

He repeated the process with my finger, then raised it to his lips and kissed it, his gaze on mine and eyes burning with promises.

“Preferential treatment happening there,” Kele noted.

“Totally,” Damon agreed sagely and rose. “I’ll need to do one shield at a time, so it may take a while.”

“Meaning I get to scratch Gria more? Excellent.”

“Let’s feed her first,” I said wryly. “Otherwise, she may forget her promise not to chow down on you.”

Kele grinned. “And she’d probably spit me right back out again, given I’m probably gristlier than most.”

I laughed, and then we each grabbed a rear leg of the nearest capra and dragged it over to the young drakkling. Gria instantly reached for it, but at Kaia’s warning rumble, snatched her head back. We ran back for the other capra and dragged it over to the first. Only when we were both well out of the way did Kaia let her daughter eat.

Although eat was a relative term, given her teeth barely touched the capras. She basically swallowed each beast whole with barely a pause to break their bones.

As Kele returned to scratch Gria’s eye ridge, I walked across the cavern, tugged off my pack, and then asked Kaia to extend her wings so I could fix them. While most of the tears had begun to heal, several large sections of leathery membrane remained loose and would never heal properly unless given a frame on which to do so. As Damon’s magic rose, I once again tugged out the silk webbing and stretched it across the tears, then carefully sealed the loose skin to it. After that, it was simply a matter of giving the drakkon’s natural healing ability time to work.

Won’t take long, she said.We fast heal.

They certainly did. Most of the wounds that had scored her body only a few days ago were now little more than faint scars.

Once she’d tucked her wings back against her body, I folded one now empty pack into the other, then sat close to her and crossed my legs, leaning back against the wall of one of the hatching alcoves. Pain flared briefly as I pressed a little too much weight against my damaged shoulder, but the warmth emanating from the stone went some way to easing the aches through the rest of my body.

It was, however, a sharp reminder that the first thing I’d have to do when I got back was not report to my father or bed my husband, but rather see a healer and get some numbing salve. My fires might have sealed the wound and burned away infection, but it would be days before the pain faded—I knew that from experience.