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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ROOK

Pyrah tosses and turns under my blanket, her sleep restless. Perhaps she dreams of nightmares without me.

She has no idea that she’s being stalked.

Crouching, I touch her arm. “Pyrah. Wake up.”

“Come back.” She mumbles the words. “I’m cold without you.”

“We can’t. Scaldric is outside.”

That catches her attention. She jolts upright before grimacing and holding her stomach. “He’s here?”

“He’s flying over the forest. He must be looking for us.” I shake my head and correct myself. “Looking for you .”

Pyrah’s hand darts to the scars on her neck, no doubt remembering when Scaldric bit her without her consent.

Lark misses nothing. “That dragon bit you, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Pyrah admits, “even after I refused him.”

My sister’s eyes burn like hellfire itself. “And you haven’t killed him yet, Rook?”

Beneath my ice-cold calm, simmering rage flows through my veins. “That can be arranged.” My hand drops to the hilt of my sword. I'm resisting the urge to charge into battle. “Though it may be a wiser choice to hide at this moment. Lark, how long will it take you to cast the spell?”

Lark glances at the mouth of the cave. “Not long.”

“I will stand guard outside.”

Pyrah pushes herself to her feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I won’t cower in my cave while an enemy dragon flies over my territory.” She locks eyes with me, as if daring me to stop her from doing something reckless. “I will show no weakness to Scaldric.”

"No." I glower down at her. “You can’t shift.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

I’m more than capable of keeping her safe, even if I’m not her expected mate. I’m no dragon, but demons are fiercely loyal and dangerous to anyone who threatens their loved ones.

"Pyrah." I don't blink. “I must protect you."

"I can protect myself."

"As your mate, I consider it my responsibility and privilege.”

Some of the fight leaves her eyes, betraying the emotion she buried deeper—fear. “What if he attacks?”

“That’s my excuse to destroy him.”

Before she can protest, I stride into the night and guard the mouth of her cave.

Both women follow me. Lark begins to cast the spell while Pyrah watches her. There’s no sign of the golden dragon, but I know he’s out there, lurking, ready to pounce on any opportunity.

I don’t intend to give him one.

Lark moves with the fluid grace of an accomplished sorceress.

Magic flies from her fingertips in indigo sparks.

She strokes the air as if painting it with light, tossing fistfuls of magic against the rocks around the cave.

It has a strange scent, one that reminds me of a library full of musty old books.

Not that I’ve spent much time in a library since I left the castle.

I liked to read, once, when I was a boy, but that Rook died a long time ago.

Turning my back on the magic, I stare out into the darkness, grateful that my demonic blood gives me excellent night vision. Every muscle in my body remains tense and ready for a fight.

Pyrah takes her place by my side. Her hair streams behind her in the wind, and her face looks even paler in the moonlight. She must still be in pain. Maybe she’s weakened from blood loss.

“Sleep,” I say, knowing she won’t obey me.

She exhales in a cloud of white. “I can’t.”

“If he tries to touch you, I will kill him.”

“Murder isn’t always the answer.”

“It solves the majority of problems.”

Pyrah glances sideways at me, perhaps bemused by my reaction. “Or it increases the bounty on your head.”

Emotionless, I shrug. “It would be worth it.”

Luminous blue mist creeps into the air between us. It pours over the cliff like a waterfall and spreads over the nameless lake, where it fogs the dark water. The moon hides her face behind wisps of mist. We behold a world of surreal beauty. I turn around, slowly, as if lost in a dream.

Lark shapes the air with her hands. Mist trails from her fingers and swirls through her silver hair. Undoubtedly, it’s the same spell that hides her cottage in the Thornwood.

Soon the magic cools off, and the mist fades from blue to white.

“My cave,” Pyrah says. We can’t even see it from where we stand. “How do I find my way back?”

Lark flicks the lingering magic from her hands. “Don’t believe whatever you feel, but trust that you will make it through.”

Dewdrops of mist cling to Pyrah’s hair. She journeys deeper into the pale void, feeling the space ahead of her with her hands, before she vanishes from my sight. She must be safe, but my heartbeat quickens.

I frown at my sister. I know there are always rules with magic, so I ask her, “What are the rules of this spell?”

“Only the three of us can find the way through. If anyone else tries, they will be lost in the mist until they leave this place behind. Not even dragonfire can burn through the mist.”

“Good. That was one of my concerns. How long will the spell last?”

Lark tilts her head. “Seven months or so. That’s how often I strengthen the spell around my cottage.”

I take both of her hands in mine. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She glances into my eyes. “I’m still in your debt.”

“Not forever.”

A smile shadows her mouth. “You had better follow Pyrah.”

I do as I’m told.

The mist swirls around me, disorienting me. My heartbeat pounds inside my chest. One wrong step, and I might plummet over the edge of the cliff, wishing I could fly.

Lark’s words echo in my mind. Don’t believe whatever you feel, but trust that you will make it through.

The endless mist all around me erases any sign of a path. My eyes convince me that I can’t go onward. That’s nothing but a lie, since my senses can’t be trusted. I exhale hard and imagine myself sinking like a stone to the bottom of a lake.

I stumble into the darkness of the cave.

Pyrah catches me in her arms. I drag her into a tighter embrace. Instinct urges me to never let her out of my sight again, though that would be impossible.

“Rook.” She sounds breathless. “You’re squeezing me too hard.”

I loosen my grip. “Sorry.”

It’s gloomy inside the cave, more than I had expected. Even I’m struggling to see in the dark. Only the slightest hint of moonlight passes through the enchanted mist.

Lark joins us in the shadows. She cradles an egg of pale green light between her hands. After she tosses it high into the air, it shatters against the stone. Glowing green mushrooms sprout from the walls and illuminate the cave. Treasure gleams under the luminous fungi.

Pyrah escapes from my embrace. When she touches one of the mushrooms with her fingertip, it quivers on its stem and glows a little brighter.

“Beautiful,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

Lark smiles a tired smile. “I’m glad you like it. Rook doesn’t appreciate my prettier spells.”

It is a pretty cave, even I can admit that, though it’s a pity we can’t see who lurks outside the mist.

Pyrah is safe. I have to tell myself that.

Lark hides a yawn behind her hand. “Good night.”

“See you in the morning,” I say.

Lark vanishes into the enchanted mist. I’m sure she’s taking a portal home, and the crackle of magic confirms my suspicions. The sorceress has gone.

Pyrah gazes at her cave, admiring the glow on her treasure. “Your sister loves mushrooms, doesn’t she?”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” That sounded too gruff, so I soften my voice. “We should go back to bed.”

“Bed,” she repeats. “I wish we had one.”

“I can try to put something together in the morning. Until then, I can protect you from the ground.”

“You always want to protect me from something,” she says wryly.

I lay down on the blanket and drag her down with me. She rests her head against my chest and closes her eyes. The mist outside cloaks us in silence.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” she whispers.

Can she tell how it’s pounding with unspent adrenaline? I stroke her hair under my hand, though I’m not sure if I'm comforting her or myself. “I can’t sleep,” I admit. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I won’t be able to watch over you.”

“You’re my mate, Rook, not my bodyguard. We might be in the darkest part of the fairy tale right now, but we still deserve our own happily-ever-after.”

My heart aches at her words. “This isn’t the darkest part.”

“True.” She’s silent for a moment. “There’s too much left undone and unsaid. But I still think we deserve our happiness together.”

“What would it look like for you? Happily ever after?”

“This doesn’t look too bad.”

We lie together in the darkness. The rhythm of my breathing slows to match hers. Unable to resist, I kiss the top of her head.

I never thought I could have such intimacy without lust.

“Damn it,” Pyrah whispers. “I can’t sleep, either.”

I tighten my arm around her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She presses closer against me. “I like listening to you talk.”

“Why?”

“You have such a deep voice. Gravelly."

"Do I?"

"I love it. I could listen to you speaking for hours.”

I grunt. “I never talk that much.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

Bemused, I frown into the shadows. “My what?”

“Everyone has a favorite color. I want to know more about you.”

I ponder this question. “Red.” I’m looking at her hair when I say it. “Even before I met you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” There’s laughter in her voice.

“I swear it’s the truth. I have always liked wild roses, even the cursed ones at Hexfall.” I pause. “And you?”

“Purple.”

“Why?”

“Amethysts are my favorite gemstone. They aren’t rare, but the color reminds me of twilight on the lake with no name.”

“We should name that lake.”

“Probably.” She plays with my long hair, twisting a lock around her finger. “What’s your favorite scent?”

I answer without hesitation: “You.”

“You’re making me blush. What do you think I smell like?”

“Clovers and incense smoke.” My voice drops an octave. “You’re also my favorite taste.”

“Rook!” She laughs. “You can’t be serious.”

“I love to devour your desire. And I love to lick your cunt.”

She shivers in my arms. “Don’t say such dirty things while I’m meant to be resting and not fucking.”

“You like it when I say that word, don’t you?”

“I do,” she confesses.

I have mercy on her and don’t continue my seduction. “And you? What scent do you love the most?”

“After your answer, I should change mine.” She laughs again. “You do smell good, though, like pine sap. But my favorite smell is the sky after thunder and rain.”

“How poetic.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Midnight plums. I stole them from the royal orchard. I loved their sour skin and sweet flesh.”

She murmurs her approval at my choice. “I remember these almond cakes in Quickmire, baked for the spring festival. The villagers danced around a maypole and disappeared into the forest for trysts. They thought fucking would bring a good harvest later, not just babies.” She snorts. “You weren’t my first kiss, you know.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“A pretty boy at the festival. He had green eyes.”

My lips twitch with a smile. “Should I be jealous?”

She clicks her tongue. “How many women have you kissed before?”

“I haven’t been keeping count.”

“Wait, women and men.” She sounds triumphant. “I remember you telling me that before. That’s twice as bad.”

I reply without emotion. “I have little choice. A devouring kiss is more than just a kiss. I’m an incubus, and I must feed.”

“Would you starve if you didn’t?”

“Eventually.”

She lets out her breath. “I shouldn’t have teased you. I didn’t mean to say anything hurtful.”

“I’m not offended. I would tell you otherwise.”

“Will I be enough for you?”

I mull over her question for a moment. “Once an incubus or succubus finds their mate, they promise to feed from no other. It’s an ancient tradition, and demons have survived this way for thousands of years.” My arm tightens around her. “My devouring kiss will belong to you and you alone.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” she murmurs.

My chest aches with emotions I don’t know how to put into words. They dart through me like birds, too wild to catch. “You are more than enough. It was my fault, not yours, when I took too much from you before. We do need to find our equilibrium, though.”

“Our what?”

“Equilibrium. The word makes more sense in Umbric. Kelrial. The balance between two partners. In the Underworld, an incubus usually marries a succubus. Each of them must consume lust to survive. To help them find their equilibrium, they undergo a ritual together after their wedding.”

“What kind of ritual?” Curiosity sharpens her voice.

“That, I don’t know. It’s a secret, intimate ritual.” I swallow hard. “I know that it requires a soulstone.”

“What’s a soulstone?”

“A gemstone from the Underworld. My mother inherited one that had been in our family for hundreds of years. Her soulstone looked like the dark twin of a diamond, the color of deepest purple, glittering with trapped fire.”

“Oh.” Pyrah breathes out the word. “I have nothing like that in my dragon’s hoard. Is it valuable?”

“Very.” I smile at her obvious desire to covet this gem. “Lark heard rumors of it in the castle at Netherhaven. She thinks our mother hid the soulstone in the royal library, though I have never been back to look for it myself.”

“Since you are a dragon’s mate, my gold and gems belong to both of us. They have become our family wealth. Would one of them work instead of a soulstone?”

“Unfortunately, they would not. Rare magic from the Underworld imbues a soulstone.”

She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes gleaming in the dark. “Why don’t we steal the soulstone back from the castle?”

Incredulous, I arch my eyebrows. “We aren’t going on any quests together to loot the castle.”

She rests her head on my shoulder. “Why not have a dragon wedding instead?” Sleep thickens her words.

I hold my breath for a moment. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“That was a suggestion. If we followed the rules of dragon courtship, you would be the one asking me.”

Some of the tension eases from my muscles. “Understood.”

“Can you put your hand on me?”

“Where?”

She takes me by the wrist and brings my hand to her belly. “It helps with the cramps.”

This surprises me, though I suppose it must be the weight and the warmth of my touch that comforts her pain. Her breathing deepens. When I glance down, she’s already asleep. She found some peace in my arms.

Behind my closed eyes, the lost soulstone glitters with dark fire.

Would it be foolhardy of me to return to the castle?