Page 38 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

The tonic is working, but holding onto Ashvelon takes more effort than usual, even though he’s flying as smoothly and carefully as he can. We head toward Kyreagan, who is vomiting streams of agonized fire across the sky. Varex is with him, as well as another dragon with bronze scales.

Kyreagan starts talking rapidly, his words barely distinguishable. The gist of it is that he must leave at once, or Rahzien will do something to Serylla.

Rahzien? What has the damn King of Vohrain done now?

“Explain, Prince.” I speak clearly and loudly, demanding Kyreagan’s attention. “I’m a friend to your Princess, and if something has happened to her, I may be able to help.”

Kyreagan stumbles through his tale. The King of Vohrain already tried to bribe him to give up Serylla, and Kyreagan denied him.

Fortunix was present for that exchange. After the storm ended, while the Prince was out checking on the other dragons, Fortunix went directly to Kyreagan’s cave and took Serylla, presumably to deliver her to the enemy king in exchange for treasure.

That motherfucking asshole dragon. First he kills Verda, and now he steals my friend?

Fuck no. Not while I’m still breathing. I may not have recovered enough to go save her myself, but I will help Kyreagan get her back.

Volatile he may be, but I have no doubt that he genuinely loves her.

His anxiety doesn’t stem from the wounded pride of a treasure taken.

He’s terrified about what Serylla might endure at the hands of the enemy king.

This should have been a glad day, a time to celebrate the departure of the Mordvorren. Leave it to fucking Fortunix to ruin things.

“I’m not surprised he’s a bad seed,” I say. “I never liked that one. Varex, how old was Fortunix’s scent? How long ago did he visit Kyreagan’s cave?”

“A few hours, maybe,” Varex replies.

“A few hours… So Fortunix has already reached the mainland with the Princess.”

The dragons begin arguing about the best way to retrieve her safely.

Kyreagan wants to go to war, but I’m inclined to agree with Varex, who protests that the clan cannot survive an all-out conflict with Vohrain, not after the deprivation they suffered during the storm.

The Vohrainians have better weaponry than Elekstan did, and if they turn those weapons against the dragons, their former allies, the result could be catastrophic.

Kyreagan looks exhausted, certainly not prepared to do battle with an entire army. And there’s something odd about Varex—not that I know him well enough to read him properly, but his aura feels disjointed.

Open warfare is a terrible idea. I’m not about to let these dragons die right after I devised the perfect spell to save them .

Come to think of it… perhaps that spell could be the solution.

“I’m having a thought,” I announce.

“Shit, we’re in trouble now,” mutters Ashvelon.

“Hush, you.” I smack his neck reproachfully.

“The King of Vohrain may not know that dragons can take human form now. Fortunix might not have passed along that bit of information. And whether Rahzien knows about it or not, he won’t recognize you in human form.

That’s your angle. Your human face is the perfect disguise.

With it, you can stroll right into the Elekstan capital…

or approach the King’s fortress in Vohrain, depending on where Fortunix took the Princess.

You said he wants to use her to subdue the people, right?

So I’m guessing he’ll keep her in Elekstan.

He might try to impregnate her quickly, to legitimize his claim on the kingdom. ”

It’s the obvious truth, based on my personal knowledge of how courts and their rulers tend to function, but Kyreagan reacts as if it’s a personal insult. He bellows, releasing a cascade of fire toward me and Ashvelon, who dodges quickly.

I manage to stay seated on Ashvelon’s back, but I’m shaken.

“Avoid that topic,” Varex tells me.

“Right.” I take the flask of strength tonic and swallow a little more of it.

Kyreagan is visibly struggling, his control frayed to a thread by long confinement, lack of food, and fear for the woman he loves.

“You’re forgetting one thing,” he says thickly. “I have horns, claws, and a forked tongue when I’m in human form. Won’t they give me away?”

I arch a brow. “Your horns stay with you when you change? Interesting. There have been a few such cases among the others, too. I suppose even the best-planned spells can go slightly awry. While I can’t alter the spell itself, I can add a charm that allows you to dispel your horns and modify your tongue and claws when you’re in human form. ”

The bronze dragon inserts himself into the conversation, offering to accompany Kyreagan to the mainland. While he’s talking with the Prince, Ashvelon speaks to me in a low tone. “Is it wise for you to perform magic so soon? You’re still recovering.”

“It’s only a small spell, and it needs to be done. It’s for Serylla. I consider her a friend.”

He sighs. “Very well.”

As the dragons conclude their conversation, I address Kyreagan again. “Ashvelon and I will fetch the supplies for the charm. We’ll meet you at your cave.”

“And my Prince—” Ashvelon’s tone is both sympathetic and determined. “If this scheme fails, and you need the clan, we will fight for you and the Princess. Love is worth starting a war.”

Delight floods my heart at his words. Affectionately, I smack his neck again. “So dramatic. Come on, pet.”

We return to Ashvelon’s cave, and I take the time to purge my crystals and collect the rest of the things I’ll need for the enchantment.

Before long I’m on Ashvelon’s back again, talking aloud about how I plan to proceed.

He listens until I get to the part where he’ll be engraving the spell in stone for me.

“Why do you need me to engrave it?” Ashvelon’s voice is a growl of disapproval. “I thought you said it was a small one.”

“I decided it should encompass all the dragons, not just Kyreagan.”

Though he doesn’t reply, I swear I can hear reproach in the very cadence of his beating wings.

“I’ll be alright,” I tell him. “I drank more of the tonic, and I feel much better with the Mordvorren gone.”

Still he does not speak. He flies inexorably toward Kyreagan’s cave .

I can’t stand the silence between us. “Stop worrying, pet. It’s nowhere near as complicated as the other enchantment.

This charm simply allows dragons to summon or dispel their horns, claws, and any other remnants of their dragonish selves that might linger when they transition to human form.

It’s a useful spell for everyone and vital for Kyreagan, since he has to look wholly human when he goes to rescue Serylla.

So romantic, really. The dragon going to rescue the princess he kidnapped. It’s quite poetic—”

“I want you to be sure .” Ashvelon cuts me off.

“What do you mean?”

“I want you to be sure that this will not send you into a paralyzed state like before.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll survive. I have to keep plaguing and torturing you, after all. It’s my new mission in life.”

“It’s not a joking matter.” The pain in his voice wipes the smirk from my mouth. “I can’t bear it, Thelise. I almost lost you. Don’t ask me to endure that again.”

I lean forward, pressing a hand along his neck. “I’ll be alright, Ash, I promise. I might be tired afterward, but this won’t kill me or send me into a trance. It’s a tiny addition to the existing spell, like a thin layer on top. Like an extra dollop of icing on a thick, multilayered cake.”

“Cake?”

“Yes, darling, cake, like the slice you had at my cottage, only this cake is far bigger, and all I’m doing is garnishing the top.”

He rumbles, but he relents. It’s not like he has a choice, anyway. He’ll do what I want—which is why, as our future unfolds, I will have to be careful not to make careless decisions that will hurt him.

We land in Kyreagan’s cave, which is quiet and partly sunlit.

He hasn’t yet returned. It’s the first time I’ve been here, and the first thing I notice is how neat the place is, unlike the messy, cluttered space Ashvelon and I share.

I make a mental note to work with Ashvelon on tidying our cave, now that I’m no longer on the brink of death.

“By the Bone-Builder,” Ashvelon says quietly. “Look.”

In the enormous, neatly-woven nest, two eggs are nestled. One is iridescent violet, the other a marbled blue. They shine softly in the ambient light from the cave entrance.

My throat tightens. I take off my leather bag and let it drop to the floor as I approach the nest.

“Serylla made these.” I can’t speak any more words; they won’t move past the lump in my throat. Tears gather in my eyes, and I blink quickly to dispel them.

I’m tired. I’m weak. That’s why I’m becoming overwhelmed at the sight of two dragon eggs.

“They look smaller than the ones I saw last mating season,” Ashvelon comments.

I swallow and manage to speak. “They’re supposed to be smaller, so they won’t hurt the women.”

“She carried two of them for him,” Ashvelon says. “Beautiful. You did this, my love. You gave Kyreagan this gift.”

“I’m not sure he realizes that.”

“He does. I know him, and I know that one day, he will express his gratitude more clearly. But he can only hold one thing in his mind at a time, and right now, that thing is the Princess.”

“The mother of his babies,” I murmur.

I knew what I was doing when I cast the spell. I knew I was trying to save the dragons in the best way I could, while also minimizing any emotional or physical harm to the women. I knew my task was to preserve an entire species.

And yet I never fully realized what that meant until now.

Kyreagan lands in the opening of the cave behind us, his shadow blocking some of the light .

“Your offspring,” I say, turning toward him. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are.” His voice is low, gentle, threaded with worry. He looks from the eggs back to me. “Please, would you…”

“Of course.”