Page 6

KYRIE

I forget to breathe so long I grow dizzy with it. My mouth’s so wide open in shock I’m surprised my chin isn’t scraping the floor.

“See?” Tarron says, hopping on one foot as he points excitedly. “Dragons.”

“Yeah. Dragons.” It’s about all my brain can think of to say, because shit. Those leathery, scaled things before us? They are, in fact, dragons. Or at least, they used to be.

It takes a moment for my nervous system to catch up and recognize that the staggeringly large beasts in front of me aren’t a threat.

They aren’t alive, and that’s a fucking relief.

“How?” I ask Tarron, whose eyes are huge and sparkling as he stares up at the still monstrosity above him.

“I don’t know. Lord Hrakan says these were his old friends. They helped carry the library here. But who cares about books?” He glances at me, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Dragons are better than books.”

Still awed, I stare a moment longer. Taxidermied, perhaps, like some of the poor animals I’d see hanging from rich people’s walls before I relieved them of their jewels and other lonely, expensive items.

Bizarre, though.

Tarron makes an impatient noise, and I shrug a shoulder noncommittally. “Why did they save the books, then?”

“Magic books,” he says easily.

My eyes narrow as I study his innocent face. “Magic books?” I repeat.

A cloud moves, and sunlight dances across the huge hall, weirdly illuminating the long-dead dragons’ glassy countenances.

“Probably. My nana says I’m—” He peers up at me, something shifting in his face, a half-grin on his lips.

Uh-oh. Here we go. I know that look.

“I could show you the books next… if you want.” He opens his blue eyes even wider, and I bite my cheeks to keep from laughing.

“Are you allowed to see the magic books?” I ask, squinting at him.

“The dragons brought them here,” he says without missing a beat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I stare.

He stares.

The urge to laugh at his obvious sidestep is so strong I cough a few times to get it out of my system. “Where are the magic books?”

“They’re next to Hrakan’s treasury.”

My ears perk up. My heart beats faster. Everything turns sharper, and I examine the kid in front of me. “Next to the treasury?”

“Uh-huh.” He pats the cold hide of the dragon, exhaling wistfully. “I could show you where it is, you know. They say there’s a whole cavern full of gold underneath the castle, you know? But that’s just a story for little kids. That story is in the library too.” He practically flutters his lashes.

Oooh, I don’t know what they’ve been saying around Tarron about me, but this kid has me nailed. Gotta respect it.

“I need to see Mushroom, my mule, first.”

“So… is that a yes?” He tilts his head at me, a bright blond curl tumbling over his forehead. The sun hits him in the next moment, painting him in an angelic glow.

No way did he position himself that way on purpose… did he? I don’t know much about the Fae or their kids, but Tarron sure as shit seems like he knows just how to play me.

“Yes. Show me around and to the stables, and then I’d love to see the books.” I arch my eyebrows meaningfully.

“And the treasury.” Tarron gives me a little smile, all mischief and blond curls. A deadly combination. He definitely knows what he’s doing. “Lots of pretty things there.”

I make a mental note not to underestimate the Fae kids.

“Right.” I nod in agreement. “Just to see it.”

“Of course. You’re the queen, though, so it wouldn’t do any harm.” His grin widens, and he skips off, around the frozen carcass of the lifeless dragon.

I wonder what the god of death has in his treasury. Enough to fund my escape from his keep. Enough to go into hiding for the rest of my lifetime. A glint at my hand catches my eye, and I glance down at the sparkle, then instantly regret it.

Sola’s Crown.

What would Sola do?

She’d probably take Tarron hostage to get her way, then slit his throat for the fun of it. My chest grows tight at the thought, and I swallow hard, my stomach twisting.

“Not Sola’s Crown,” I mutter at the ring. “Not anymore.”

The stone in the ring isn’t black—like whatever death ritual Hrakan performed changed it as well as me. Not a crown, but a wedding ring. A shiver goes through me, goosebumps making the hair on my arms stand on end.

I force my gaze away from the ring and back up to the dragon, ignoring the sharp pain that seems to pierce my heart.

I loved him. Despite everything, I fell in love with the warrior I thought I knew.

Tears well in my eyes, but I blink until they disappear. I’m not wasting tears or any other bodily fluids on that asshole again.

Of course, my traitorous body goes slightly hot at the mere idea of swapping fluids again, which is stupid, because what a gross way to think of sex.

Although… we are married. The sex was good.

Maybe we could just have meaningless sex.

I’m still thinking about the possibilities of that idiotic idea when the dragon’s eyes move.

My gaze drops immediately, instinctively, my entire body freezing up, pure fear rooting me to the spot. My pulse hammers through my veins, a drum beat in my head.

When I gather the courage to peer up at it again, there’s no way its eyes have moved, no way at all. A trick of the light, probably.

Still. An eerie sense of foreboding hangs in the air, and even Tarron seems stiller, more nervous than before.

“You said they’re dead?” I ask, uncertainty prickling across my skin.

“They aren’t alive,” he answers.

Right. That’s enough of that for me.

“Let’s move this party to the stables.” My voice is too loud, too forced in the stillness of the cavernous space, and all I want to do is get out of this room as soon as fucking possible. My skin’s crawling, and I don’t know why, but the urge to get out from under these statue-still monsters propels me back into the corridor.

My palm grazes the rough stone wall, and it takes me a moment to usher my speeding heart rate into some semblance of a normal beat.

“You liked the dragons?” Tarron asks me, those blue eyes guileless once more.

I side-eye him. He’s a lot sneakier than I gave him credit for, and I have a feeling this was a test. What, exactly, a Fae child would want to be testing me for, I have no idea, but this kid is up to something.

Death might have made me even more stupid.

“Is something wrong?” His little hand finds mine, a bright smile dancing across his face. “Did the dragons scare you?”

Uh-huh. My eyes narrow.

He’s up to something, the adorable little shit.

“Should they?” I counter, making my own lips smile.

He frowns, his shoulders slumping a little. “No. Maybe not you. You’re a grown-up. And a queen,” he tacks on, then gives me a wary look. “They scare me, sometimes, though.”

Oh. Well, now I feel like an asshole. Maybe he doesn’t have some Fae plan to trick me.

Unlike that bastard Hrakan, my fated fucking mate.

“Why did you bring me here to see them, then?” I crouch next to him, his hand still held in mine. It’s small, and fragile-feeling, but comforting all the same. Gods, I miss my brothers. So much.

“Sometimes it makes me feel braver to see them. Even when I’m afraid. Maybe because I’m afraid.” His smooth forehead wrinkles, and he tilts his head at me. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” I say, and then cough to clear the lump out of my throat. “No, Tarron, it isn’t stupid. Not at all. I think it might make me a little braver just to hear that, too.” I squeeze his hand and stand back up.

His forehead’s still furrowed, like he’s thinking hard about what I just said.

“Can I see my mule now?” I ask him gently. The mood’s too serious now, too sincere.

Makes me a bit uncomfortable.

Makes me feel… vulnerable—and I’m not sure I want to feel like that ever again after what Hrakan did.

Tarron nods once, and his fingers fall out of mine as he races off again.

“Little shit,” I laugh to myself, having to speed up past a comfortable jog to catch him. “Don’t forget,” I yell out. “I don’t know my way around.”

Tarron skids to a stop, glancing back at me guiltily. “I forgot,” he says slowly. “It seems like you should know your home.”

My hand goes to the healed wound in my chest, aching with some phantom pain at his words.

My home.

My home.

He leads me the rest of the way to the stables, chattering away, but I can’t think of one thing to say in return.

This is not my home. This is Hrakan’s castle, and I’m here… I’m here because he killed me. Killed me, then made me something new.

Something new to meet whatever is coming.

A mule’s characteristic braying assaults my ears, and I’ve never heard anything that sounded so beautiful and horrible all at once.

“Mushroom,” I sing out.

Tarron beams at me as we both race through the courtyard to the stable and paddocks that lie across a grassy knoll.

The day’s incredibly warm, so warm that it seems like much more time has passed than only the few weeks Hrakan insisted I missed—but as far as I remember, Hrak is much further south than the frigid North I’m used to.

I close my eyes for a minute, letting the sun soak into my cheekbones, inhaling the fresh, grass-scented air.

Mushroom does his hideous scream again, and a happy little laugh bubbles out of me.

At least he’s excited to hear my voice again. I’m excited to hear his, too.

The huge grey mule throws his head up and down, waiting at a wood fence, tail flicking furiously back and forth. His lips peel from his teeth, and he brays again, disgusted at having to wait for my scratches.

“Hey, you big fungus, you,” I tell him, and he shoves his huge head into my chest, nearly knocking me backwards. I don’t fall, even though I should—would have, even, if I hadn’t been… different. This body… it’s the same, and it’s new, and it’s freaking me out.

Mushroom’s huffing breaths warm my stomach, and I reach both hands up, scratching behind his long ears as he relaxes against me.

“He looks weird,” Tarron observes.

“He’s a mule, and he’s a fungus just growing on me, yes he is,” I coo in an appropriately silly baby voice. Mushroom nibbles at the fabric of my tunic, throwing his head back and forth happily.

Tarron blinks up at me. I guess his sense of humor isn’t developed well enough to appreciate a fungal pun.

“It’s in spore taste to make jokes about his name, I apologize.”

Mushroom brays again, and I can’t help laughing at myself. At least my trusty mule appreciates my jokes. Or maybe he’s pissed I didn’t bring him a carrot. Who could say?

“You deserve all the carrots, don’t you, you big baby?”

“I have been bringing him carrots,” Tarron pipes up.

When I look down at him, sure enough, the kid has a leafy carrot in one hand, an apple in another. “Nana doesn’t like when I steal things from the kitchen, but…”

“You liberated them,” I interrupt.

He stares at me.

I sigh.

“You liberated them from the kitchen. You didn’t steal them.” I look him dead in the eyes. “You freed them, and gave them to a comrade in arms, who was in dire need of emotional support. And carrots.”

He squints. “Nana would say that’s twisting the truth.”

“Would she be mad that you tried to help an animal who is sad and scared and in a new place?” The tiniest frisson of guilt goes through me. Maybe I shouldn’t be encouraging the kid to steal and lie.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

Harder than I did, anyway.

I snort.

The humor evaporates quickly, though, and Mushroom’s lips peel back as he mouths the carrot, taking it gently from the little Fae boy.

Tarron squeals as Mushroom crunches down on it, spraying carrot bits all over the two of us. The mule brays again, evidently pleased with our reaction to his hijinks, and I smile in spite of the heaviness settling on my shoulders.

“He just left, if that’s why you’re here,” a male voice rings out.

The newcomer doesn’t hide his interest in me, staring me down with a bald curiosity that makes me roll my shoulders back.

“We came down here to see Mushroom.” The words are sharp, but the Fae, holding the lead of a huge charger, doesn’t seem bothered by my bad attitude in the least.

No sooner have I turned back to the mule than a sharp pain lances through my chest. I suck in a breath as Mushroom mouths the top of my head.

It’s as if a tether deep in my chest pulls too tight, the uncomfortable sting gradually receding to a dull ache.

“Mate bond bothering you, eh?” the male asks, and Tarron scrunches his face up in question as he glances at me.

“What?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“The mate bond,” he repeats, pausing in front of us. The horse at his side stomps a foot, sending sparks up as his shoe strikes it. “Enough with that, Neran.” He wipes his brow. “He’s a bit of a monster. I’m Hamish, by the way. Everyone calls me Ham. And I know who you are.”

“Right,” I say. “Ham? Really?”

“Better than eggs,” he says, and I blink at the random announcement. “But aye, the mate bond. It’ll trouble you until Hrakan’s back. Might want to get some tea to help you sleep, or you’ll have a rough night of it.”

He nods once, and the massive black horse blows out a loud breath as the two of them continue down the row of stalls.

“Nana can make you the tea,” Tarron informs me. “She gives it to me when I get a cough. Tastes terrible.” He makes a face, and a laugh trickles out of me. “Can we see the library now?”

“Sure,” I tell him, and he beams at me, grabbing my hand.