Page 32 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

Thelise weeps so hard I’m afraid she will shake apart.

She manages a few words between the sobs, enough for me to understand that she’s crying over her exile, mourning the friend she killed with magic, raging over everyone who has rejected or demeaned her since she was banished.

She’s crying because her father is dead, and because he committed an atrocity of magic so great that she feels the weight of his name like a curse upon her own existence.

She weeps because she is exhausted. And she’s also hungry.

I gather that much from the hiccupped words toward the end of her tearful confession.

Luckily my body shifts to human form around the same time she expresses the need for food, and I’m able to gather something edible for her. She cries harder because she’s craving a hot meal, and this food isn’t hot or cold.

I promise her that a hot meal will be provided tomorrow .

While she eats, she keeps bursting into sobs at intervals. I don’t ask why. I simply wrap myself in a blanket and sit beside her. When she wants to lean against me, she does.

Tearfully she tells me how frightened she is of being kept on Ouroskelle for the rest of her life. Later she gasps out, “I’m sorry for hurting you with the Haljax face,” and I understand that it’s her apology for making me look like the lover who rejected her.

At last she lies on the blanket with her head in my lap, tired out, her eyes and nose puffy from weeping. She isn’t the sly, graceful, self-possessed sorceress in this moment, but she is just as beautiful to me like this, perhaps even more so.

Her breathing is easier now, and she looks up at me between swollen eyelids. “I haven’t cried like that since Katlee died. I think I’ve been drowning it all, suffocating my emotions with so many other things. But you were right. I feel better.”

“Sometimes we find strength through admitting weakness. Mordessa taught me that.”

“She was a wonderful friend to you.” Thelise reaches up and strokes my face. “I wish I could have met her.”

“You both wield lightning,” I reply. “I think you would have been friends.”

“Or maybe she would have told you to stay far away from the mad sorceress.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have listened.”

Much as I crave all of her, including the pleasure we can enjoy together, I don’t suggest a coupling. Instinct warns me against it. She needs a different kind of comfort from me tonight—the comfort of words and my presence.

We talk of many things. She tells me how her mother left, how it hurt.

She tells me where she went after her exile, the hard lessons she learned at the beginning of life on her own.

I tell her about the months I spent lurking in the sea tunnels after my mother’s death, fearful of being around other dragons, terrified of seeing them die, haunted by the thought of my own death.

It took me years to overcome my visceral revulsion at the sight of humans.

By the time we went to war, I could look at humans like any other animal. Like prey. And through the process of fighting alongside them, I came to view them more or less as allies, or even equals.

“And when you first saw me?” she asks. “What was I?”

“When you were on the bench, staring at the sea, I thought you looked sad. But when I saw you in the stable, I knew what you really are—a predator.”

Her lips curve. She’s pleased, but she sighs. “I don’t feel like a predator at the moment, darling.”

“And yet you hold me ensnared.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Who’s keeping who captive?”

“An excellent question.”

“You claim I have you enthralled. So you would take me back to my cottage on the mainland if I demanded it?”

“No, because one of the other dragons might hunt you down and kill you for what you’ve done.

Fortunix would do it without a second thought, I’m sure.

He hates humans, and transforming into one is the worst nightmare he could ever imagine.

I’m sure a few others feel the same. You must remain here on Ouroskelle, where the clan law applies and where you’re under my protection as my life-mate. ”

“Fuck you,” she says grouchily, but she shifts her shoulders, snuggling deeper into my lap. She knows I’m right. And I suspect she’s not as eager to leave as she pretends to be.

She confirms my suspicion by exclaiming, “It will be so interesting to see how the mating frenzy plays out, and the hatching season. And we get to witness the first shift of the babies! The entire dragon civilization will have to change now, to accommodate the needs of your dual forms. I can’t wait to see how you all adjust, how you innovate, how Ouroskelle develops. ”

“You sound as if you’re acclimating to the idea of living here for a long time.”

“Perhaps,” she says loftily, attempting to veil her enthusiasm. “But I can’t reside in a cave , sweetheart. At least not in its current state. I’m accustomed to a certain standard of living, so you’ll need to learn how I expect to be cared for.”

“Happily.”

“Not only that, you’ll have to transport me back to the mainland for shopping occasionally, if I need things.”

“Gladly.”

“And if I think of a project or a scheme I want to try, you must go along with it and help me obtain whatever I require. I abhor dullness and inactivity. I need to be constantly amused, do you understand? I’ll do a lot for love, but I refuse to be bored.”

When she says love , my brain wipes itself clean of everything except that word. My hand stops stroking her hair. “Love?”

She smirks and pats my face again. “Calm down. You know how I talk—I throw words around without meaning them. Don’t ever take me too seriously. I tell lies, remember? We both do. A pair of liars, the two of us.”

“The two of us,” I growl, thumbing her full lips.

Her breath catches a little, and her eyes darken with quiet heat. “You and me, dragon.”

When we wake in the morning, I expect her to be even stronger and more spirited, but she seems oddly listless. My dragon form returns, and I offer to take her out for a quick flight, hoping the sunshine and fresh air will lift her spirits. But she declines, curling deeper into the blankets.

“You are still recovering from the spell?” I ask.

She lies still for a moment, blinking, her eyes vague as if she’s looking within herself. “This feels different from post-enchantment recovery. I might be getting sick, which is rare for me.”

“Shall I fetch you some wine?”

To my surprise, she grimaces. “I don’t think I can stomach anything but a little cold water.”

“Then you shall have it.”

I take the water jug to a nearby spring and clumsily manage to refill it, despite the size of my forepaws and claws. When I carry it back to her, she drinks, but she collapses onto the blankets immediately afterward, as if her head is too heavy to hold up.

My concern for her rises to a new height.

I don’t know much about the ailments of humans, but I know how devastating sickness can be.

Not long ago, a virulent plague wiped out the prey on many of the neighboring islands.

Could this be the same plague? We never considered whether the contagion might still be in the air of Ouroskelle, and how it might affect humans.

What if we have brought them here only to cause their death?

Reluctant though I am to leave Thelise alone, my dragon form is famished, and I must hunt.

I locate a boar snuffling through the hollows of the valley and devour it there, rather than bringing the carcass back to my cave.

As I tear off chunks and strips of flesh, I ponder what options I might have if Thelise’s condition worsens.

I could tell the other dragons that she isn’t well.

Of course, some of them couldn’t care less about her wellbeing and might prefer to see her dead.

But maybe I can find out if any of the captives are suffering from a similar illness.

Maybe some of the women could suggest ways for me to help her.

Failing that, I might have to take her back to the mainland and find a physician or a healer.

Concern weighs on my body and my wings as I climb out of the valley and take to the sky again. I wheel around, intending to head back to my cave, but a dark mass on the horizon catches my eye.

It’s a long bank of clouds, deep gray in color, flickering with intermittent lighting that’s visible to my dragon eyes even at this distance. Faraway as it is, I can tell that the sheer height of that cloud wall is staggering, capable of swallowing not only Ouroskelle, but the entire archipelago.

What I’m seeing is the Mordvorren, a monstrous, sentient, magical storm that wanders the world, choosing locations to ravage with its cyclonic winds, torrential rain, and vicious lightning.

It is said that a bolt from the Mordvorren can pierce the scales of a dragon.

The storm has not come within range of Ouroskelle in years, and yet here it is, headed our way.

Of all the terrible timing, this is the worst. My clan has suffered the effects of the plague, the carnage of war, and the catastrophe of losing our females. Must we now endure this, too?

I am not the only one who has noticed the oncoming storm. Several other dragons hover in the sky, watching the Mordvorren crawl closer. I spot Varex and Kyreagan flying together from cave to cave, probably notifying the rest of the clan of the storm’s approach.

When the Mordvorren decides to strike a particular area, it lingers for days, sometimes a week or longer. The dangers we face go beyond lightning strikes, collapsing caves, or flooded caverns. If the storm stays too long, we could perish from hunger .

I regret sharing so much of the food and supplies we brought from the mainland. I want Thelise to have everything she needs, even if others suffer. That is wrong of me, and yet it’s the truth.

The other dragons will soon realize the same thing that has occurred to me.

They’ll begin hunting and gathering, accumulating as much food as possible for themselves and their women.

It might be difficult for them to gauge what is needed, especially since we have dual forms now, and few of us truly understand the dietary needs of humans.

I, too, could forage and hunt, gathering food from Ouroskelle or a neighboring island.

But I can’t shake the memory of Thelise’s cottage and the town of Devil’s Kiss, both plentifully stocked with food.

If I leave right now and fly as fast as possible, I could make it there and back again before the storm hits.

However, I will have no time to return to Thelise and tell her my plans.

I won’t be available to protect or help her for several hours.

She might think I abandoned her. And if something delays my return, I might be caught at sea when the Mordvorren arrives.

What would Thelise do if she were in my place?

The answer is easy. She would speed toward the mainland and fetch all the delicacies and amusements that might tempt her appetite and her attention during a long, dull week of forced refuge in a cave.

I whirl and bank upward, catching a fast wind current, probably an offshoot of the oncoming storm. With all my power and the full ferocity of my love for the enchantress, I streak toward the mainland.