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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

PYRAH

Rose petals drift through broken windows, piercing the crumbling defenses of Hexfall.

The sweet perfume of these blooms nearly overpowers my sharpened dragon senses.

"Should I shift back?” I ask. “Into a woman, I mean.”

Rook looks into my eyes, uncertainty shadowing his features. I remember the pain that haunted him when I touched him before, and I don't want to hurt him again. I don’t want to remind him of the dungeon.

He swallows hard, his throat working. "We can try," he says at last.

Relinquishing the armor of my dragon form, I shift back into a woman. My heart thunders inside my rib cage as I stand motionless. Rook's hand reaches out, trembling slightly before making contact with my shoulder. The touch is tentative, testing. I resist the urge to move, letting him set the pace.

A shuddering sigh escapes his lips, his shoulders falling with relief. He pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. I rest my cheek against the cold steel of his hauberk. His familiar scent of pine and masculine warmth surrounds me as I melt into his embrace.

Here, wrapped in his strength, I allow my walls to crumble. My body softens, vulnerability seeping into my bones. His arms tighten, and for the first time since his imprisonment, I feel truly safe again. My eyes sting with unshed tears.

"I missed this," I whisper. "Missed being held by you."

His fingers thread through my hair, gentle despite his fierce grip. Even with his armor in the way, I can hear his heartbeat beneath my ear. The steady rhythm drowns out everything else—the whisper of falling petals, the sigh of wind through broken windows, even my own unspoken thoughts.

After a long silence, Rook speaks again, his voice solemn. "I thought I had lost this forever. Lost you.”

I pull back just enough to see his face, though I keep my hands flat against his chest. His silver skin glimmers, lustrous, after his devouring kiss. But his eyes look shadowed. Something still troubles him.

“I’m here,” I say. “I’m safe.”

“You’re not safe.” He shakes his head. “The queen told me why she wants you.”

My stomach knots. "What do you mean?"

"She plans to breed you to Scaldric." His words pierce me like arrows. "Create an army of dragons loyal to her crown."

I jerk back, acid rising in my throat. The thought of being forced to mate with Scaldric, to bear his children against my will...

"I would rather die," I spit.

"I won't let that happen." Rook's eyes flare with hellfire. "I swear it."

Horror clamps around my throat with its claws. I force myself to breathe past the choking sensation. Worse, he's not the only one who must confess. "There's something I need to tell you, too."

His shoulders stiffen. "What?"

"Something happened to Lark." I struggle to find the right words. "She tried to find you. She wanted to know where the queen was keeping you locked away."

Rook’s throat works as he swallows hard. "What did she do?"

"She found Zin." The name tastes sour on my tongue. "I don't want to tell you everything—that should be Lark's choice. But Zin..." A shiver racks my body. "She did something to Lark. Cursed her with aellurium."

His eyes smolder with anger. "Fuck."

"She's alive," I add quickly. "But changed. There are these golden lines across her skin now, like cracks in silver."

"Fuck," he says again, softer this time. His jaw clenches, guilt etching deep lines around his mouth. "I should never have gone to the castle alone. This is my fault."

"No." I hold his face between my hands. "You were trying to protect us. To find the soulstone. None of us knew it was a trap."

Rook lets out a slow sigh. "Thank you for telling me about Lark."

"Your sister should tell you the rest herself."

"Where is she?

"Home. Her cottage,” I add, since she’s no longer staying at my cave.

"Let's go. Now."

But the weight of unsaid words sits heavy in my chest. We can’t leave, not yet.

His eyes narrow as if he detects my hesitation. "What's wrong?"

"We need to be careful." I retreat from his embrace, wrapping my arms around myself. "Flying there might be dangerous.”

"Why?"

The question lingers between us. Behind my closed eyes, I see the glint of golden scales. "Scaldric has been circling my cave for days now.”

Rook's hand drops to the hilt of his bastard sword. "That motherfucker has been stalking you?"

“He never stopped.” I lean back against the ruined stones of Hexfall. “Sometimes I catch his scent on the wind. Other times I see his shadow pass over the lake. He’s been waiting for me to leave the protection of Lark's mist."

“You shouldn’t have come here.” A tendon leaps in Rook’s clenched jaw. “Fuck, Pyrah. You risked everything?—"

"To find you.” I cut him off. "And I would do it all again.”

Rook lets out his breath in a hiss. “Scaldric could have followed you.”

“Don’t worry, I was careful.”

“Careful?” He frowns at me, probably convinced I was reckless.

“I was stealthy.” I wander over to one of the broken windows. Through the jagged glass, I peer out at the twisted brambles of the Thornwood. “I walked through the enchanted mist on foot, as a woman, and didn’t shift into a dragon until I was sure I was far enough away.”

“Did Scaldric see you?”

My fingers find a shard of glass. It crumbles beneath my touch and shatters against the stones below. A shadow passes over the treetops, and my heart stutters, but it’s just a cloud.

“No.”

“Pyrah.” Rook's hand finds mine on the windowsill, his touch strong yet gentle. "Are you certain?”

“No,” I repeat, quieter. “I’m not.”

"It may be time to end him." His voice drops to a low, dangerous murmur. "Make your choice, Pyrah. This is your decision."

“You want me to kill him?”

“Or I will. Just give the word.” Rook speaks with such grim ferocity that I know he would relish slaying the golden dragon.

My heart pounds as I consider his words. The urge to shift and take flight burns through my blood—to meet Scaldric in battle, dragon against dragon. To finally hurt him more than he hurt me.

But Rook has a hollow look in his eyes, still haunted by his time in the dungeon, and he must be weakened. When he devoured my lust, the intensity of his hunger took my breath away. I came so close to blacking out, though I refuse to admit how shaky I feel even now.

We can’t take any chances.

If Scaldric wins this fight, he would kill Rook and force me to be his mate.

"No." The word comes out barely above a whisper. I clear my throat and try again. "No. I'm not ready to face him. Not yet."

Rook dips his head in a curt nod. “Understood.”

“We should go to Lark first." I glance down at myself, since of course I didn’t bring any clothing. “Though I’m not walking there like this. Flying might be dangerous, but it’s worth the risk.”

“I’m not sure I agree.”

“You want me to stroll naked and barefoot through the Thornwood?”

He lets out a noise between a growl and a sigh. “Could I convince you to wear some clothes borrowed from Hexfall?”

“I would prefer to be a dragon. I don’t want to be powerless.”

Rook tilts his head as if considering what I have said. "You believe yourself to be powerless when you aren't a dragon?"

I open my mouth to reply, then pause. The truth is, I do feel vulnerable in my human form. Soft. Like prey instead of predator.

"Most of us can't shift into another form," Rook adds. "Myself included."

"That's different. You have your skill with a sword."

"You could learn." He folds his arms across his chest. "I could teach you how to wield a blade like a true warrior."

The idea intrigues me more than I expect. I picture myself fighting like Rook does, moving with deadly grace through combat. But I know that it would take years of training to reach his level.

Our enemies won't wait.

"Maybe someday," I say. "For now, I will defend myself with dragonfire."

"Pyrah—"

"Besides," I cut him off, "you promised to teach me how to read first."

Rook shakes his head, fighting back a smile. "Books won't save us."

"Not this time." I stretch, already anticipating the shift. "We should go." I glance outside, where foreboding clouds have plunged the forest into shadow. "The sky looks dark. Like it's going to rain."

He nods. "Lead the way."

I walk into the overgrown courtyard of Hexfall, my bare feet crushing fallen rose petals. I close my eyes and coax out the dragon within me. Shivers rush over my skin, followed by the sweet ache of transformation. My bones lengthen and reshape into a bigger skeleton. Crimson scales armor my skin.

In moments, I’m towering over the ruins.

Rook rests his hand against my shoulder. It has begun to rain, and droplets cling to his silver hair. “Ready?” he asks.

“I am.”

He swings onto my back and leans forward against my neck. His weight feels familiar already, as if he has always been there.

"Fly low," he murmurs. "Try to stay unseen.”

“That might not be easy.” When I snort, a puff of smoke curls from my nose. “I wish I weren’t so red.”

Rook’s hand strokes my crimson scales. “You’re beautiful.”

His words warm my heart, though I still can’t shake the lingering sense of dread.

My muscles tense before I lunge into the air. My wings thump once, twice, before they catch the wind. We soar over the castle ruins. Tilting my wings, I bank over the dark canopy of the Thornwood. I fly low over the trees, so low that I could reach out and pluck a leaf between my talons.

Thunder rumbles over the mountains as I slice through the darkening sky. The rain intensifies, pelting me, each drop a pinprick of cold on my wings. It’s dangerous to fly in a storm, even for a dragon, but I need to keep going.

Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of gold makes me flinch. Just a sunbeam breaking through the clouds. But my pulse won't slow. Every glint of light, every shadow could be Scaldric.

Rook’s arms tighten around my neck. "Steady," he says, though the wind nearly steals his words before they reach me.

Another flash of lightning, followed by the rumble of thunder. I bank hard to the right, my wing nearly clipping the trees. It sounds too much like a dragon’s roar. My neck aches, the pain renewed where Scaldric bit me without my consent. The memory of his teeth in my flesh makes me sick.

Lightning tears open the heavens. For a heartbeat, everything turns blinding white. I blink fast to clear my vision. Stars dance in my eyes, a distraction, and I search the sky for any hint of gold.

Nothing. But he's out here. Watching. Waiting.

A shadow passes over us—just a cloud—but my muscles seize with terror. Last time I saw Scaldric's shadow fall across me like that…

I push myself harder, my wings carving the sky. I can't shake the feeling of being hunted. Every nerve screams that he's near, that powerful golden dragon ready to strike from the clouds, to pin me down, to force me to submit.

"There!" Rook shouts over the storm.

Through the endless rain, I spot the telltale shimmer of Lark's enchanted mist blanketing the meadow. My wings ache from fighting the storm, but sanctuary lies just beyond the forest.

We reach the edge of the Thornwood. Folding my wings, I dive into the mist and plummet toward the meadow. I’m plunged into a white oblivion where the rain still falls, though its fury has been lessened by magic. Outside the mist, the next rumble of thunder sounds muffled.

My wings snap open, scattering rain, and halt my descent. My claws sink into the wet earth of the meadow. The mist swirls around us, thick enough to hide us from even the keen eyes of a dragon. Here, at least, Scaldric can’t claim me.

"Pyrah." Rook swings his leg over my back and leaps down. "You're shaking."

He’s right. My body won’t stop trembling despite the heat of my dragonfire. I’m panting for breath, my lungs still burning from my sprint.

I shift back into a woman, my scales melting away, until I stand naked and shivering in the rain. My legs buckle as relief overwhelms me, but Rook catches me before I fall.

“Easy,” he says.

His arms wrap around me, and only then do I realize he’s soaked. Water drips down his silver hair and the steel of his armor. Closing my eyes, I cling to him and drag air into my aching lungs. The rain feels so much sharper against my bare skin.

"Cold," I manage, through chattering teeth.

“Let’s get you warm.” He kisses the top of my head. “I swore I bought you proper clothes in Netherhaven. Even a midnight plum for you to eat. But…” His words fade away, and he must be thinking of the dungeon.

“I don’t need any of that,” I say, my voice raw with emotion. “I need you. Nothing else matters to me.”