Page 36 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

It falls open, exposing her full breasts, barely covered by the thin fabric of the slip she wears beneath, the hem skimming the tops of her thighs.

It’s the first time she’s faced me while I sit in the pile of pillows, naked but for my own hair, loose around me.

Sheelan stops abruptly, breath catching, lips parting and closing several times.

I make no moves but to fold my legs amid the cushions and wait for her to resume.

I have so many questions, confirmations that perhaps she can give me, but I will let her act first.

“Something influences them,” she says, so quietly that I have to strain and lean forward to hear her. She takes a quick step closer and repeats herself, waiting for me to respond.

I lean back. Nod.

Sheelan exhales, hands wringing. “My father is not a warlike god,” she says. “And my brother was sweet, kind. Arrogant.” She admits it, but there’s softness to it. “But he would never harm another, I swear it to you.”

“Until Chancellor Hallick came,” I say, not bothering to mention the fact that her so-called god celebrates with the endless deaths of others. That’s cultural, and I must not let it color my feelings right now. This is far too important.

“He’s brought evil here.” She shudders, looking down at her hands that she now spreads wide, her palms up. “I’ve felt it in him.” Sheelan looks away, hugging herself abruptly. “Father has… promised me to him.”

Fuck no. It’s a hard and violent reaction that drives me to my feet, and I find her in my arms, holding her tight, my cheek on her hair, cradling her against me. Protective of her suddenly, and not just because I know he’s a monster.

It sizzles as it had before, the spark that ignites between us, Sheelan gasping when magic connects us and races back and forth over our skin, inside us, connecting us together.

I’ve been through it twice, and I’m still shocked when it wakes, though I don’t pull away, still holding her as she shivers and clings to me until the kinspark settles at last, humming softly in contentment.

Even as I feel it stir in the distance, knowing then that Atlas and Zenthris felt something has happened, experienced the joining, aware that we who were two—and then three—are now four.

Which reminds me of the old drakonkin woman and her assurance that there will be five, in the end.

So, who is our fifth?

I pull back as Sheelan looks up at me, her dark eyes wide, so wide, full of tears.

“What was that?” She doesn’t try to separate from me, arms still around my neck, but she’s spooked, and I don’t blame her. I catch the brief motion near the garden, the black-clad warrior’s protectiveness noted but ignored.

I won’t harm Sheelan. Not now, not ever. I think it would be impossible.

“Kinspark,” I say, my voice trembling. Then shake my head with a sigh. “It’s a long story. But you’re well and truly fucked now. Sorry about that.”

She snorts a startled laugh. “I suppose you’d better explain it to me, then.”

We sit amid the cushions of the bed, fingers wound together as though she’s unwilling to let me go, and I try my best, end up starting at the beginning.

My meeting with Zen and Kell over Apple’s theft makes her nod, my expectations of Atlas just as accepted.

For the second time, I share my story, but only to a point.

She doesn’t need to know about my time in the Dome, or how I came to be here.

She doesn’t even need to hear about the betrayal of Vivenne.

Not unless she willingly accepts her fate.

Because if she chooses not to, I will fight and die to let her have what I don’t.

Freedom from this. From all of it. If she chooses, she will remain innocent the rest of her days, I swear it on the fire and my mother’s blood.

That protectiveness I’ve felt for her, and the attraction, too, have both had a reason, then. Both of which grow as I speak, the bond stronger every moment, Sheelan clinging to my hand, tracing designs over the back of it with her index finger as she simply listens to me talk.

When I’m done, she’s quiet, no longer so shattered, so anxious. If anything, she’s calm and collected while I’m the one who’s nervous.

“I don’t know what any of it means,” I say at last. “But I do know that what’s been done wrong will be made right, or I’ll die attempting to fix it.

” Her dark eyes glisten with fresh tears at that.

“I won’t make you accept this,” I tell her.

“You have to consent.” The boys would agree, I know it.

“This isn’t your fight, what the Overking has done. ”

“But it is,” she says, leaning into me, determination on her face that’s only more admirable paired with her tears.

She’s no warrior like me. And yet, she looks about ready to take on the dragon herself if need be.

“This threat comes for my family, too.” She squeezes my hand.

“I have to save Father from making a terrible mistake. But why isn’t the magic Hallick brought affecting me? ”

“The kinspark,” I shrug. “Maybe?” It could to be, though it’s only just connected. “Or he felt no need to use it to control you.” That, I believe. Then again, perhaps a combination of both is the answer.

I’m now certain, though, that the kinspark has been waiting for this moment to light, but has been with her all her life. As it’s been with me, with Atlas, with Zenthris.

With our fifth.

Sheelan accepts that explanation. “What can we do?”

“I need to escape,” I say, making no bones of it at all. “I have to find the dragon.”

Sheelan’s hesitation has her looking away, head down, hair spilling over her face, hiding her from me. I reach out and tuck it behind her ear, find she’s crying again, silently.

“You want me to betray my father,” she says.

“I don’t,” I say. “But you might have to if you want to save him.”

Sheelan spins on me, a soft sob catching in her throat. When she pounces on me, her mouth over mine, I let her take control.

It’s the least I can do.

***