Page 54 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Taevas paced the perimeter of Alashiya’s land for hours. Her absence was an acid drip in his veins, searing him slowly, drop by drop, until he was consumed by it. Relief, even elation, had buoyed him when she agreed to find a car, but it fled almost as soon as she did.

I’ve sent her out into the world alone.

Being helpless had gotten old days ago, but this powerlessness was completely untenable.

He knew it wouldn’t make a difference if he stayed in the house or walked the perimeter of her property.

It wouldn’t make her show up any faster, and it wouldn’t help either of them if something happened while she was gone.

But he couldn’t sit still and he couldn’t fly, so instead he walked through the dense trees and undergrowth, pain echoing through his body with every step.

The birch forest seemed a lot less intimidating in the light of day. The air wasn’t as oppressive, and he might’ve thought that overall the whole thing seemed less hostile than it had the night he chased her down.

But that didn’t stop him from watching the trees as he walked, the back of his neck prickling with unease.

He felt observed. Judged, even. The general air of hostility might’ve waned, but if there was some true sentience to the forest that hid Alashiya’s home, it hadn’t yet decided if he was worth a damn.

How could it? Taevas clenched his jaw as he wound a tight, circular path through the trees, heading back toward the overgrown main road that connected her property with the town.

He hadn’t done anything but take and take and take from her.

Taevas was a protector, a provider to the very core of his being.

He hadn’t given her anything in return for her hospitality or care.

Nothing but his word. He hadn’t even had the chance to lay down ash at the borders of her land, announcing it as protected by a dragon.

It was the most basic fucking thing imaginable and the first step in declaring to all the world that she was Chosen.

That she was treasured. That she was his.

Fire licked up his throat. Taevas had to swallow it down. It went against all of that raging, uncontrollable instinct, but he did it.

He’d never let himself imagine what he’d do in this position, but if he had, the concept that he might not be able to tell the whole world that he’d Chosen wouldn’t have crossed his mind.

The air was hot and thick with the scents of soil, decay, and fresh, green life.

All around him little sounds came together to make a wall of noise — a woodpecker working diligently on a tree trunk, a squirrel skittering across branches, bugs humming just out of sight, and greenery swaying in the warm breeze.

He didn’t hear any of it. His world was silent as he let the word Chosen sink its teeth into him. He’d accepted it days and days ago, but it still nearly bowled him over when it popped into his head.

It wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t something he could talk himself out of or deny. He’d just been ignoring it for years.

Looking back, he’d known it from the moment he opened that first package.

If he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it, to think the word, then maybe he could exist in a perfect middle space where fear couldn’t get to him but he could have everything he wanted.

It didn’t have to be that singular thing to be real, to be the most precious part of his life.

But as he stared down at the loamy soil beneath his feet, Taevas was hit by a wave of shame so powerful, it pressed the air from his lungs.

It didn’t matter that he intended to give her all the rights and privileges of the Isand’s Chosen. Without the official title, she’d be leaving all she knew for nothing. The worst part was that she didn’t even know it.

Alashiya was a queen and he wanted to… What? Make her my girlfriend?

The black eyes on the papery bark of the trees watched him balefully, like they knew.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that perhaps it’d been easy to pretend he hadn’t Chosen because he subconsciously hadn’t taken Alashiya as seriously as she deserved.

I’m an asshole, he thought, raking his claws through his hair.

She didn’t even know that she’d been disrespected, and he’d changed course before he did any real damage, but it didn’t matter.

He owed her more than just his life. He owed her an apology and an oath that couldn’t be broken by anything now. Not even death.

Bile churned in his stomach at the thought, but it wasn’t as bad as he assumed it would be. Taevas was resigned to it in the way one must be to all things out of their control.

The sun must rise. Death must come. A dragon Chooses. It can’t be undone.

Alashiya is mine, he thought grimly, and I’m going to give her everything she deserves. Even if it kills me.

And it could. It’d killed his parents.

Choosing was a gift, but it was also a terrible weakness — one he’d done everything in his power to avoid out of nothing but pure, boyish cowardice. And look where it’d gotten him: He’d still ended up Choosing, only at the worst possible time.

His impatience and worry doubled. Taevas could give her nothing now. He couldn’t embrace her. He couldn’t shower her in gifts during this most vital time. He couldn’t even do his duty by guarding her when she left the nest.

Pathetic.

He roamed the woods once more, his mind a chaotic swirl of memories he’d long since shoved into a tidy little corner. Taevas thought time had taken the venom from them, washed them clean of all that could hurt him, but it turned out to be yet another lie he’d told himself.

With Alashiya gone, all he could think of was his father.

His patient, loving, soft-spoken isa, who’d been left alone to defend the nest. He’d tried for a very long time to let go of his anger at his mother.

It wasn’t her fault, and the gods knew she’d suffered for her choices, but the fire of his grief had scarred him so deeply that he couldn’t ever forgive her completely, as unfair as that was.

She’d done the right thing. The honorable thing. But her choice meant her mate died a hideous death and tore Taevas’s life apart at the seams.

He’d sworn to never Choose, and if by some misfortune he ever did, he’d never allow his mate to pay for his mistakes. They would never be unguarded. They would never sacrifice for him. They would never, ever come to harm.

And there he was, nearing the obscured entrance to his mate’s territory, as helpless as his own mother must’ve been when Jaak gave the order to execute his father.

When he came to the overgrown gravel path that might’ve been a road once, he followed it until he found the farthest edge of Alashiya’s land.

Taevas stood deep in the trees and observed the cracked pavement of the road that presumably connected all of Birchdale’s little farms like a withered artery.

Lee, where is all your funding going? It’s certainly not in infrastructure. He shook his head in disgust.

Standing there was a little surreal, and not just because the air shimmered strangely in front of him — a testament to just how strong Alashiya’s wards were.

This was the closest he’d been to the outside world in weeks.

More weeks than he could reliably count, if one added in his captivity.

The road seemed like a magical artifact from another life.

If he touched it, if he followed it to hunt down his mate, it would instantly transport him away from the fairy tale world in which he’d taken refuge.

The narrow road was a pale, ashy gray and riddled with cracks. It probably hadn’t been repaved in fifty years, and it certainly didn’t have a branch of m-grid beneath it, which connected to all new cars to regulate speed. It was neglected nearly to the point of obsolescence, which seemed fitting.

Not even the road outside her home can be nice, he thought bitterly. Taevas forced himself to take a deep breath.

Promising himself that he’d make a call to Lee Seymour to personally complain when he returned home, if only for the principle of the thing, Taevas turned away from the road. He’d barely taken a few steps deeper into the trees when the roar of an engine froze him in place.

Whirling around, he watched as a dirt-speckled but clearly new SUV came around the bend.

He expected it to keep going. There was no sign marking the entrance to Alashiya’s land, and the wards obscured even the overgrown entrance from view.

There was absolutely no reason for anyone, particularly that car, to even slow down as it passed.

But he watched, stomach dropping, as it slowed. It came to a rolling stop on the shoulder just past the entrance, where it idled for several long seconds.

Taevas eased back into the shadows, his wings nearly vibrating with tension against his back.

They hurt no matter what position he held them in, but he forced the discomfort out of his mind as he watched the passenger door pop open and Alashiya practically leap out.

The vehicle had barely come to a complete stop before her old boots were on the ground.

What the fuck?

Her face was pale as she shut the door behind her. Tension hiked her shoulders up high. She looked like she wanted to run.

The engine cut off and another door opened, though it was on the wrong side for Taevas to see it. A deep voice drawled, “You’re supposed to wait for me, pretty thing.”

A searing sort of familiarity hit him. It was like a ghost had spoken directly in his ear, conjured from his oldest, darkest nightmares. His body locked in place. A cold sweat broke out across his body.

No, Jaak’s dead. I made sure of that.

Alashiya was already walking away from the car. Her head was held high, but her arms were stiff at her sides, like she was bracing for something. “No, thank you,” she bit out, polite but stiff. “I appreciate the ride, but I can handle it from here.”

The voice drew closer as the stranger rounded the bumper. “What kind of dragon would I be if I let you open your own doors? I was raised better than that.”

A large dragon came into view, walking straight out of Taevas’s nightmares.

Jaak.

In a heartbeat, Taevas was a teenager again.

He froze in the shadows, horror binding him there, forcing him to watch as his mate attempted to evade a much bigger predator.

She didn’t stand a chance. The dragon closed the distance between them in a handful of long strides and clasped her hand, halting her by the edge of the road.

Jaak’s blue face lifted as he eyed the trees. “Where are we? There isn’t even a road here.”

Alashiya’s discomfort was clear to him, but it was obvious she was trying to hide it from the blue dragon. “I don’t have a car, so why would I need a road? Thanks again for the ride, Sergei, but I really do have to go.”

Sergei? Taevas blinked. His panic receded somewhat, slithering back into the dark, wet place it came from. The wards wavered in front of him, warping his view like hot air over blacktop, but if he squinted…

That’s not Jaak.

It couldn’t be, because he’d killed the old bastard with his own two hands.

This dragon couldn’t have been older than a century and a half, and he hadn’t been prematurely aged by vices and indulgence like Jaak had been.

But even so, the resemblance was uncanny.

The color of their skin was identical, as was the shape of their noses and horns.

And the voice… That was uncanny. The sound of it made Taevas’s hair stand on end.

It filtered through memory, through the distortion of drugs and pain. He recognized it not just from the war, but from his captivity.

Sergei frowned down at Alashiya. Turning so his back was facing the forest, he said, “I’m trying to keep you safe. You don’t know what could be in those woods. There are wild animals and worse out there. You shouldn’t be alone.”

All at once Taevas’s senses sharpened. His focus honed in on Alashiya as his confusion and dread were pushed to the farthest corner of his mind.

That dragon has a hand on my mate.