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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

PYRAH

I launch myself at Scaldric before his transformation can finish. I'm already fully dragon. We crash into the lake, sending a massive wave across the surface. My claws tear into his partially scaled flesh. My jaws snap at his throat.

Scaldric thrashes beneath me, caught between forms. Blood clouds the water around us. I dig my claws deeper, pinning him down. All my rage at his possessiveness, at his violation of my freedom, at his attempts to control me—it all pours out in a savage roar that shakes the mountains.

My teeth clamp around his arm and bite until it severs. I taste his blood, metallic and hot. He screams, the sound caught between human and dragon. His partially formed claws rake my sides, but I barely feel it through my armor of scales.

This is what I am.

Not his mate.

Not his possession.

I will never submit to him again.

I fling Scaldric from my jaws. His body crashes onto the shore, blood staining the gravel beneath him. His transformation fails, leaving him naked and human, writhing in agony. Where his right arm should be, only a ragged stump remains. He clutches the wound, blood pulsing with every heartbeat.

Not even a dragon can heal from this wound.

Scaldric will carry it until his death.

Rook stalks forward, his bastard sword gleaming with Scaldric's blood. The blade kisses Scaldric's throat, drawing a thin line of red. Shadow wings spread behind Rook, casting darkness over Scaldric's broken form.

"Look at her," Rook's voice carries the weight of steel.

Scaldric's eyes meet mine. For the first time, I see fear in them. Gone is his arrogance, his certainty of ownership. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

"Promise her," Rook says as he presses the blade deeper. "Promise you will never touch her again. Never hurt her again."

Scaldric's chest heaves with labored breaths. His golden hair is matted with blood and lake water. The mighty dragon reduced to this—a broken man on his knees before me.

I step closer, letting him see the strength in me that he tried so hard to crush. "Say it."

"I will never touch you again," Scaldric rasps, blood bubbling at his lips. "Never hurt you again, Pyrah."

Rook's eyes meet mine over Scaldric's kneeling form. His blade presses against Scaldric's throat, ready to end this. One nod from me and Scaldric's head will roll across the bloodstained shore.

But I can't.

Even after everything he's done, I won't become what he is—someone who takes a dragon life—any life—without mercy. The rain washes the blood from my scales as I shift back into human form.

"Leave," I command. "Leave this kingdom and never return. If I catch your scent here again, if I see one glint of golden scales in these skies, I will not show you mercy again."

Scaldric staggers to his feet, clutching the ragged stump where his arm used to be. Blood pulses between his fingers with each heartbeat. His proud shoulders slump as he stumbles toward the tree line.

I watch him disappear into the forest, still trapped in his human form. Whether he lives or dies now depends on how quickly he can find help. The thought doesn't bring me joy, but I feel no pity, either.

He made his choice when he tried to own me.

The rain washes away his bloody footprints, erasing all trace of him from my territory. Let him bleed his way to whatever fate awaits. I am done with him.

Rook paces across the cottage, his shadow tail lashing behind him with frustration. The soulstone gleams on the kitchen table, its purple depths holding untapped power.

"How does it work?" he demands.

"I don't know," Lark says.

"Ask Zin."

"Ask her yourself. She's not going anywhere."

With a growling sigh, Rook looms over Zin. "Tell me."

She stares up at him with haunted eyes. "Why would I know? The soulstone holds demonic magic. That's not my area of expertise. I have never been to the Underworld."

"Fuck," Rook grits out. "Pyrah, I'm sorry. I promised too much."

I shake my head. "It's not your fault."

I watch his frustration build, his muscles shaking with unspent tension. When he slams his fist on the table, a glass tips, spilling water across the wooden surface.

"No—" Lark says, too late. Water sloshes over the soulstone.

Purple light blazes from within the crystal, so bright I have to shield my eyes. The stone begins to hum, a deep resonance that vibrates through my bones.

The soulstone's glow spreads through the spilled water like ink, creating strange patterns that remind me of the Umbric runes Rook described from the dungeon. Even Zin's dark eyes widen as she twists against the ropes binding her.

The water ripples, spreading outward in unnatural patterns. A soft white glow emanates from the puddle, coalescing into the form of a woman with silver skin and a waterfall of pale hair. Graceful, wicked, black horns curl over her head.

My breath catches—she looks just like Rook and Lark.

"My children." Her voice echoes with an otherworldly quality. "You have found my soulstone."

Rook drops to his knees beside the table. "Mother?"

"I left this behind knowing you would find it someday. I need you. Come find me in the Underworld. Please hurry." The image starts to fade. "I love you both."

The water stills, leaving only ripples from Rook's tears hitting the surface of the puddle. He grabs the stone from the water, but the enchantment has gone dark.

"All this time..." Lark sinks down beside her brother.

When he speaks, his voice with rough with emotion. "You were right. Our mother is alive."

Night settles over the cottage like a heavy blanket. Lark and Zin linger in her bedroom, their voices too quiet to make out any words. They have much to discuss in private. Rook and I sit by the hearth while the fire crackles and spits sparks.

Such beautiful destruction , I think, contented.

His eyes reflect the flames. "We need to destroy the castle."

"Destroy it?" I lean forward in my chair.

"Tear it down to its foundations." His voice sounds solemn with anger. "The Demongate lies beneath. It's the only way to reach the Underworld and to find our mother."

My heart pounds against my ribs. The thought of leveling an entire castle, of unleashing my dragon's fury upon stone and mortar, makes my blood sing.

But there's hesitation in Rook's face as he watches me.

"I understand if you don't want to come with me," he says softly. "Your treasure, your cave—I know what they mean to you. I won't ask you to leave everything behind."

I reach across the space between us, taking his hand. "My treasure means nothing compared to you."

"Pyrah—"

"No." I squeeze his fingers. "I would follow you anywhere. Beyond this world to the next. Whatever lies through that gate, whatever darkness we face—I choose you."

The tension melts from his shoulders. He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

I study Rook's face in the firelight, the sharp angles of his cheekbones casting shadows. "What about the queen?" My fingers tighten around his. "Would you flee to the Underworld and leave her to rule over this kingdom?"

His fangs glint in a sneer. "I will destroy her throne."

"The prophecy says you will take back the throne."

Rook pulls away, pacing before the hearth. "I never wanted a crown. Never wanted any of this."

"But the people suffer under her rule."

He stops moving, his back to me. "You sound like Lark."

"Because she's right." I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. "You can't abandon the people of Chymeria to Dulcamara's cruelty."

"They have abandoned me."

I press my palm between his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch. "They don't know who you are. Not yet. You just need to show them the truth."

Rook gazes into the embers of the fire. "They won't see me as their hero after we destroy the castle."

"But Dulcamara will be there," I say, already tasting victory.

He shakes his head. "She won't fight us herself. She will run to her knights the moment we attack. Hide behind their shields and swords while they do her killing."

My claws itch beneath my human skin. "Then we hunt her down."

"With what force?" Rook frowns, his eyes thoughtful. "The armies of Chymeria number in the thousands. Even with your dragonfire, we would be overwhelmed."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"We use the Demongate, right after we destroy the castle." His eyes glimmer with reflected flames. "We journey to the Underworld, find my mother, and raise an army of our own. An army of demons. Then at our hand, Dulcamara will meet her end."

A shiver crawls down my spine. "The Gray Prince," I whisper.

He embraces me in the darkness of his shadow wings. "And you, Pyrah, would be my queen."

Rook and Pyrah’s story will continue in Deadly Reign . While you wait, you can indulge in another dark fantasy romance with Prince of the Undying .