Chapter 14

Cyril

"Kit!" Cyril attacked the debris, throwing off the pieces of stone and gravel that pinned his mate to the floor. He'd been just ahead of her, keeping the tunnels stable the best he could as they tried to outrun the deadly earthquake the priests had unleashed. He'd poured everything he'd had into the shields, but the stones were overwhelming. He'd seen the ceiling above Kit break and reconfigured his remaining magic to shield her from the worst of it, letting the rest of the ceiling collapse around them. But something had gotten through anyway. He'd heard her scream, and then stop screaming, even as he strained to keep that shield in place, a blanket of hardened magic between her and the stones. "Kit."

Tossing the last of the rocks out of the way, Cyril released his shield and pulled Kit's limp body against his chest. Her dress was torn and covered with dust, a shard of glass embedded in her side.

"Kitterny." Cyril pulled out the shard, pressing his hand against the wound. It bled, but not terribly. "Nymph. Can you hear me?"

No response.

Panic gripped every fiber in Cyril's body. He ran his hands all over his mate, looking for injury, clinging to sanity only because Kit's chest still rose with breath, her pulse still fluttering in her veins. "Kitterny!"

"Do be quiet." Ettienne snapped from several yards away. Of all beings to be trapped with, of course it would be Cyril's father. Orion had a morbid sense of humor.

Ettienne's silhouette shifted and a small ball of magic-made flame sparked to life above his palm. A trick of Ettienne's that had finally found use. In the dim glow of the mage-light, Cyril could see that the collapse had sealed off the entrance, leaving them in what looked like somebody's study. There was a writing desk, a small bookshelf with several volumes of old text, and an exquisite shrine to the goddess Orion.

Ettienne rubbed his temple. "I can no longer tell whether my headache is from the explosion or your collective stupidity. Bloody stars. That dame of yours may be too stupid to live."

Cyril's upper lip pulled up into a snarl. "Do not talk of her that way. Ever." His hands ran over her again, examining her head in the light of Ettienne's magic. There was a bruise on her forehead. Probably where she'd gotten knocked out. Damn it. If he'd been stronger… If…

Cyril pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Kit, then pulled her tighter against him. The feel of her steady heartbeat was a reassurance he desperately needed. "In fact, do not talk of her at all."

Closing his eyes in concentration, Cyril listened for any hint of Tavias's mind speech. When nothing came, he dared to call out to the pack. No answer. With the mating bond now connecting them, Cyril was certain he'd know if his brothers had perished, but short of that he had no idea what happened. Only that they'd been behind Kit and were now on the other side of the cave in. Possibly far on the other side, depending on how and where they'd needed to maneuver to stay alive. Either way, they were cut off now. And Cyril's job, above all, was ensuring that Kit lived. Nothing in the universe mattered when paired beside his mate.

Ettienne located an oil lamp and lit it swiftly, casting the place into a warmer, steadier light. He looked worse for wear, his jacket torn and gray with the same rock dust that covered the rest of them. Several patches of crimson made the material stick to his body, and more blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, weaving a path down one clean shaven cheek.

Despite it all, when Ettienne rocked back on his heels and looked Cyril up and down, it was the same as always. Like he was evaluating an errant child and finding him wanting.

"Shall I pretend a dragon dame does not exist then?" he asked, waving at Kit's limp form. "Because I could have saved myself a great deal of trouble if that were true."

Cyril snarled. He rarely raised his voice to his father, but now… Fury flared and spilled into his veins, hot and vicious. "You do not go near her. You do not look at her. You certainly as all bloody hell do not voice an opinion on her life." Cyril's upper lip pulled up. He was ready to drive a dagger through the male's heart should Ettienne make a single wrong move against Kit. "Are we clear on that?"

"Stars spare me males in a rut," Ettienne said with that patented dismissive tone that made Cyril's teeth scrape together. "Do get control of yourself, Cyril. My words are certainly not what lies at the root of this damage. As for the girl, she'll survive—you'd know if it were otherwise. The mating bond does more than help you get your cock up."

"Enough, Ettienne."

"All the wench had to do was stay put," Ettienne snapped back, his patience tearing with uncharacteristic force. He strode the perimeter of their impromptu cell, the closest Cyril had ever seen his father come to pacing in agitation. "Everything, everything that I ordered in that arena was to get her and you lot out in one piece. To chance that she is the one the prophecy promised. Yet, instead of keeping her infantile self where she was told to stay, she decided?—"

Cyril punched him. He didn't remember lowering Kit to the floor or rising to his feet. All he knew was that one moment Ettienne's words were setting his blood boiling, and the next he'd cracked his fist against the male's chin so hard that his own knuckles howled. Blood spilled from an open gash along the king's jaw.

They both froze. Cyril staring down at Ettienne, and Ettienne regarding his son.

Never, never in his life had Cyril hit his father. The king of Massa'eve. The king of the dragons. Not even when Tavias had brought Cyril back from the prison in which Ettienne had left him to rot.

Maybe because he'd been afraid. Or dutiful. Or respectful. But more likely, because no matter what Etteinne had ever done, there was one thing that Cyril knew always guided Ettienne's actions: Massa'eve. The king had always put the dragons first. Above his children. Above himself.

And for that, Cyril had always, ultimately, submitted.

Until today.

Distantly, Cyril became aware of what Ettienne had said. Everything that I ordered in that arena. Had the sudden mayhem that saved the pack been Ettienne's doing, then? How? Why? Cyril didn't know. But he did believe Ettienne on that. It was the only explanation for what happened that made sense. However the king had done it, or had even known to do it.

Cyril supposed that he should be falling to his knees before the king, thanking him. But he didn't.

Ettienne broke the silence first, wiping the blood off his chin with a dirty sleeve on an expensive coat. "You had Geoffrey at the tip of your blade, pup. You should have killed him in the arena."

Yes, he should have. But he hadn't. Cyril raised his chin. If they were going to throw truths around, he had some of his own. "You should have stayed at the palace. Salazar is using each minute of your absence to take the throne."

"Your gratitude is overwhelming."

"Since when do you care about my gratitude? Or about me for that matter?"

Ettienne's nostrils flared. "I care because you belong to Massa'eve. Even if you've abandoned your duty like a cowardly pup."

"I passed my birthright to the male best suited for the throne."

"You are the male best suited for the throne,'' Ettienne bellowed , closing the distance between them until barely a foot remained. "You always have been. And the worst part is that Tavias, who is carrying your burden, knows it too."

No. Cyril shook his head, his teethgrinding together so hard it hurt. No, Ettienne was wrong. Tavias deserved the crown. Was suited for it. Cyril was… he wasn't what a king should be. "I am such a good king, so vital to Massa'eve, that you left me to die in Nagaia's dungeon."

"I let you make your own choices. Isn't that what you'd demanded of me then? To stop forcing you to live under my rules?"

"Six years—the lives of all my crew. The warriors Tavias lost getting me out. What was it all for?"

"To teach you what being king of Massa'eve entails—the cost of choice, the nature of our enemies, and the loyalty of your brother." Ettienne rocked back on his heels, crossing powerful arms over his chest unapologetically. "And, yes, I'd do it all again."

"You—" A soft melodic murmur spun Cyril to Kit. Nothing Ettienne said, or could say, was more important than Cyril's mate. Even Ettienne seemed to understand that, because he shut up and let Cyril focus.

Kit lay on the floor where he'd left her, eyes still closed, but she seemed to be saying something now. No, not saying, singing. Cyril brushed her cheek. "Kit?"

No response. She was still out. But now that he was closer, he could make out the words of what sounded like a lullaby.

In the heart of the ancient skies,

Where stars shimmer and fire flies,

Lay a dragon, wings spread wide,

Whispering secrets of the tide.

Cyril shook her gently, then pulled her up onto his lap.

She shifted her head to nestle it more comfortably against Cyril's bare chest, but gave no other sign of awareness. Her singing continued, stronger now. The air stirred with raw magic that was now crackling from her. The air charged, the pressure changing the way weather did before a lightning strike.

Close your eyes, little ember's glow,

Let the winds of dreams softly blow,

To realms beyond, where dragons fly,

Sailing the canvas of the sky.

The walls around them started to tremble. Cyril's own magic vibrated inside his body as he threw what little power he had into a shield around them. So much power spilling into the air could bring down the walls.

"Kit!" Cyril shook her hard, urging—needing—her to wake up and take control of whatever was happening. "It's a dream. Open your eyes. It's all a dream. Please."

Nothing. Nothing beside more power, more static magic filling the air.

Cyril yanked on the bond.

Ettienne crouched beside them.

A growl escaped Cyril's chest, warning the king off.

Ignoring him, Ettienne drew a deep breath and quietly lent his own deep voice to Kit's haunting melody.

Breathe in deep, the night's embrace,

Feel the stars kiss your fiery face,

For in dreams, all dragons are free,

To soar, to dance, to simply be.

Kit's eyes came open with a gasp as the song ended.

And then she started screaming.