Page 21

In the end, it was the orange light in the otherwise-dark sky that pulled Morgan from his despair. Light in the sky … but it wasn’t the sun, not yet—it was too early for dawn, and the blanket of clouds overhead meant the glow of the moon and stars were diffuse at best. No, this light was much closer than that, a strange, unnatural thing. Morgan stared without comprehension for a long moment until he finally heard a sound from his earliest nightmares.

BOOM. The orange was punctuated by a trail of inky soot, and even though Morgan couldn’t see what was happening, he knew this sound.

The weapons of man. They had come back for the Agnarra; they had come for his people. He jolted away from the comfort of Auban’s arms, staggering onto his feet as he stared into the distance at his island. He could see the trees, the beach … and the spreading fire. And hundreds of feet out into the water, he saw the enormous black ship, squatting there like a gigantic eel content to snap at a passing shoal of fish. As he watched, another boom echoed, and this time he saw one of the village’s homes burst into splinters.

“No!” Morgan had to go, he had to help—there was no doubt that Brevaer was already organizing a counterattack.

“Oh, god,” Auban said from behind him. “They’re back.”

Morgan whirled on him, the dismay he felt transmuting to rage inside his chest. “Why?” he screamed. “Why did they return? Why do they always return? Why do they hate us so much? Why do you hate us so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Auban insisted, catching Morgan’s flailing fists and pinning them to his chest. “Morgan, I love you. I love you, please, listen to me! I would never hurt you; I swear it.”

Morgan knew all of that. Of course he did; Auban was his mate. But he was also human, and that made him an easy target for Morgan’s wrath. He feared and hated them in equal measure, but he could never hate the man standing in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before leaning in and kissing Auban’s cheek. “I love you too, but I have to go.”

“Go …”

“To my people.” He wiped his eyes and turned toward the tempestuous sea. “I have to help them.”

“How will you—”

“You yourself taught me how to fight,” Morgan pointed out. “You can’t expect me to stay here when I could be helping save the lives of my clan.”

Auban stared at him with horror in his eyes. “Darling …”

“I have to go.”

“Take me with you!”

It was Morgan’s turn to be horrified. “What? No! What could you do against a ship full of murderous scumbags? They would kill you immediately!”

“I don’t care.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then I’ll take the boat and follow you on my own,” Auban replied.

“You can’t!” That would be suicide; he would fall into the water and drown; he would be seen by the humans and destroyed by one of their fireballs; he would have a swift and silent vengeance taken against him by someone from Morgan’s own tribe. Auban couldn’t, he mustn’t do such a thing. “You’ll die!”

“I’m coming with you either way,” Auban said, bringing all the stubbornness that had kept him alive so far to bear on Morgan. It was unfair, it was absolutely cruel for him to do this now. Morgan almost wanted to be able to hate him again, but …

“I won’t be able to stay with you,” he warned.

“It’s fine. I’ll help in the village,” Auban said. “Come on, we have to go.”

He was right. They quickly turned the boat and hauled it into the water. Morgan took just enough time to weigh down the gifts they’d been given—it wouldn’t do to let Auban’s things blow away in the wind—then pulled the boat, and his lover, into the water after him.

Morgan felt colder than he ought to, distracted, almost panicked. The only reason he was able to make decent time through the water at all was because Auban was paddling in long, smooth strokes, stronger now than ever before. How odd for his lover’s strength to be rising as everything else seemed to be weakening and falling apart.

They were getting close to the isle now, and Morgan felt the bodies of his clansmen enter the water and shift into dragon form, then dive deep and begin to swim toward the invading ship. He dropped the tow rope and looked back at Auban.

“I saw them,” Auban said, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. “Go. I’m close enough to get there on my own now. But be careful.” He leaned forward and reached a hand out to stroke down Morgan’s bright-green mane. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re hurt,” he said.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to find out. Morgan nodded once, then dove down into the water and swam as fast as he could to join his people. For what felt like the first time since the fight at the beach, he had clarity again.

Fight against the invaders. Save his people and his mate. Worry about everything else later.