Page 29 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

The moment the dining room doors closed behind them, the noise fell away.

Laughter and voices faded, replaced by the quiet tap of Maeve’s boots on polished stone.

Eiran’s heart still hadn’t settled and now she walked beside him, her hand brushing close enough to touch, her scent coiling around him like a spell he never wanted broken.

She was his, gods help him, she was really his.

Maeve tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “So I will ask again,” she said lightly, with a deadly edge, “who the fuck is Xelaini?”

He arched a brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her tone all innocence and mischief. “Just curious. Lover? Wife? Secret concubine you’ve stashed in a tower somewhere?”

Eiran barked a laugh, loud and full from the chest. He slowed, letting it roll out, then bent slightly at the waist as it overtook him. “Oh, love,” he gasped between chuckles. “Xel’s going to love that.”

Maeve narrowed her eyes. “So you do keep a concubine.”

“She’s my dragon.” Eiran said straightening.

Maeve stopped mid-step. “Your what?”

“My dragon,” he repeated, still grinning as he raked a hand through his hair. “Her name’s Xelaini. She’s been mine, well I have been hers actually since I was five.”

“They’re real and you were gifted one?” she asked.

“Yes they’re real and not quite gifted one. The egg was bestowed, yes, but the hatchling only comes if the pairing is mutual. You don’t choose the dragon, they choose you.”

Maeve blinked. “That’s… intense. Terrifying, but beautiful.”

“In Melrathen, every royal child receives an egg around their fourth year, depending on clutches,” he explained.

“The eggs are sacred, guarded, blessed, and never forced. They sleep until they sense their match. Some hatch and become unpaired dragons in the thunder and some never hatch, still waiting for their paired fae. ”

“And yours hatched for you?”

“Immediately.” His voice dropped, reverent. “Xelaini cracked her shell the moment I touched it. Head like a stubborn goat and wings like oil. Bit me, too.”

Maeve gave him a look. “She bit you?”

“Yes, she left a scar.” He held up his hand. “Here, she said she didn’t like the way I looked at her.”

Maeve laughed. “Talking dragons, charming.”

“She’s the most dangerous, beautiful creature I’ve ever met,” he said softly. “Well, maybe until you.”

She flushed, scoffing, but didn’t argue at the cheesy line. Instead, she resumed walking. “So what, you raise them like pets?”

“We raise them like sacred equals. You train together, bond and protect each other, it’s a commitment for life and the beyond.”

Maeve was quiet a moment, eyes narrowed as her mind worked. “So what you’re saying is you imprint on an apex predator as a pre-schooler and just hope for the best?”

Eiran laughed again, his voice echoing down the corridor. “More or less, love.”

She shook her head. “I cannot believe they’re real and that you’ve been hiding this. A dragon. That’s the kind of thing you lead with Eiran. Like first date stuff.”

“Well, love, I was a little busy being hopelessly enchanted by an utterly radiant mortal woman in Lisbon.”

She didn’t smile, not quite, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, but she was watching him like she wanted to. “Will I meet her?” she asked quietly.

His voice softened. “She already knows you’re here, she’s been waiting.”

“Is she going to bite me too?” Maeve internally wavered.

“Of course not, she’s learnt basic manners.” Eiran said taking the stairs two at a time.

The winged silhouettes at the Cottage.

Dragons, they have fucking dragons .

Maeve followed him up a sweeping stone staircase that curved along the outer wall of the tower. The air grew cooler the higher they climbed, the breeze tinged with something archaic and electric, magic, or maybe just him.

“You’re not joking?” she asked, breath catching.

Eiran turned his head, profile kissed by faelight. “Would I joke about my first girl?” he smirked.

That mate bond tensing her again, thudding in her chest and he narrowed her eyes. “Do not call your dragon your first girl.”

“I was five. She bit me, then followed me around for a year straight. She wouldn’t let anyone else near me, we were equally obsessed with one another.”

“So she was your first love.”

He grinned. “Jealous?”

“Of a flying lizard?”

“Careful,” he murmured, low and velvet-dark. “She’ll hear you.”

Maeve slowed, eyeing the top of the tower warily. “Wait, she’s nearby?”

Eiran looked over his shoulder. “Always.”

A shiver crept down her spine. “So, do you ride her into battle? Or is this more of a ‘brush each other’s hair and whisper secrets at a sleep-over’ sort of bond?”

He laughed, slow and deep. “Oh, love. She’s my blade, my shield and my shadow in the sky. There have been armies that have surrendered at the sight of her wings.”

Maeve arched a brow. “Always so dramatic.”

“She’s the largest living dragon in the Fae Lands,” he said. “And the rarest. She’s a Nyxshade, they don’t hatch anymore, they haven’t in centuries.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So she’s a legend.”

“To some, yes. A nightmare to others. She’s old blood and raw magic, when she flies, reality gets nervous. ”

Maeve muttered something under her breath about dramatics, goosebumps prickling her arms all the same as they reached the top of the stairs.

“She speaks only to me.” He said.

“And everyone else gets… snarled at?”

“Growled. Snorted. Occasionally… electrified.”

Eiran pushed open a carved wooden door, and golden firelight spilled out. Inside was warmth, thick rugs, a hearth glowing with embers and a curved balcony offering a view of the moonlit mountains.

Maeve stepped in warily. “Electrified?!”

Eiran shrugged out of his top leathers and hung it on a hook. He stood there shirtless. “Her tail carries storm magic but she uses it sparingly.”

“Oh, great.” Maeve said, greedily taking in his form.

“She’ll like you,” he said, now shrugging on a tunic soft and loose.

Maeve crossed her arms. “Because I’m special or because you told her she has to?”

Eiran stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Because I am yours, love.”

Her breath caught. He didn’t say it with arrogance, just simple truth, with the same certainty of stars existing.

She coughed. “So, what else can she do?”

“She has abilities that are great. They can all talk through thoughts.”

“Telepathy…great. And let me guess, Xelaini’s vain.”

Eiran grinned. “Incredibly, compliment the tail.”

“Why?”

“She preens when it’s admired.”

“Unbelievable. The deadly flying monster is actually hopelessly vain?”

“She’s an empress,” Eiran said, utterly serious. “And she knows it. ”

Maeve wandered through to the balcony, resting her hands on the cool stone rail. Stars glittered above, scattered across a velvet sky. Everything about this world was too much, too big and too magical. So Eiran, but strangely, it didn’t feel overwhelming.

She glanced back. “So if she’s always nearby… is she watching us right now?”

Eiran smirked, looking out into the night.

“Oh fuck me,” Maeve muttered. “She’s watching isn’t she.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, brushing his knuckles down her arm. “She’s just protective.”

“Like her master,” Maeve says with one raised eyebrow.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear and his hand grasping her hand. “I’m not her master. I’m her chosen, her paired.”

They turned towards the door, Maeve followed Eiran deeper into his chambers, each step revealing more of her mate.

The main room opened before her like something pulled from an oil painting, moody, opulent, and lived-in.

The walls were rich with texture, dark plum and ink-blue fabrics stretched between carved beams, woven through with faint golden threads that shimmered.

Shelves lined nearly every surface, crammed with books so old they smelled like dust and age.

Some were stacked haphazardly, others lovingly displayed with bookmarks and ribbons trailing from their pages.

The scent of leather, aged parchment, and something warm, cedarwood and spice clung to the air. She realised it was him.

“This is…” She turned in a slow circle. “Not what I expected.”

Eiran raised a brow as he lit a few low-hanging lanterns with a flick of his fingers. “Disappointed?”

“No,” she said, stepping farther in, brushing her hand along a heavy velvet curtain. “Just surprised. You live like a brooding academic with a flair for drama. Who would have guessed?”

He chuckled. “Academic, yes. Brooding, sometimes. Dramatic?” He gestured to the grand fireplace carved with fae runes and dragons mid-flight, flames flickering behind a mesh of wrought gold. “Always.”

The floors were wide-planked wood, so dark they were almost black, partially covered by thick rugs in indigo and garnet, their patterns twisting with ancient symbols and constellations she couldn’t quite recognise.

“Come, love,” Eiran said, offering his hand and she took it without thinking.

He led her past the sitting area, a low, deep couch layered in cushions and throws, a half-finished glass of wine on the nearby table and into the next space.

“This is the library,” he said.

The room widened into a circular expanse, every wall a towering bookcase.

Ladders on gliding rails arched overhead like cathedral beams. There were maps unfurled across tables, scrolls in delicate holders, and orbs of glowing faelight floating in the corners like watchful eyes.

An enormous desk dominated the far end, scattered with open tomes, notes in Eiran’s slanted hand, and a crystal vial that pulsed faintly with magic.

Maeve blinked. “You read all of this?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Most of it. The rest is for when I can’t sleep.”

“Do you sleep?”

“Only when I’m not thinking about you. Even then, I only sleep to dream of you, love.”

Her heart kicked in her chest, she looked away. “So cheesy, again.”

“Hmmm, but true.” Before she could reply, he pulled her gently along. “Study is this way.”