Chapter 24

Cyril

Judging by the awestruck way Kit was watching Agatha, the old woman had entirely too much power over Cyril's mate. This whole situation had too much power over all of them. What manner of magic could call a dragon? They weren't homing pigeons.

Cyril shoved down pain and fatigue, the way he'd done on battle fields that were so much larger and louder—yet no more important—than the one unfurling around him now. All his senses were on alert now, and he could tell Darren's pack was feeling the same.

Agatha shifted the swaddled hatchling in her arms as she led them toward the solitary cottage. Cyril tracked each flick of her aged fingers. He disliked the thought of a stranger holding the pup—even if the old woman seemed infinitely more qualified for the task than any of the rest of them. Qualified or not, one wrong move and she was dead.

"You were a tiny little thing when I saw you last," Agatha told Kit, opening the door to the modest dwelling. The scents of baking bread and rising yeast wafted outside, mixing with the rich aroma of rosemary and thyme. The latter came from a pot that simmered atop the cast-iron stove. Normal, ordinary smells inside a normal, ordinary house. In the middle of nowhere. With a homing magic of some sort. "Only a wee bit bigger than this. And Lilith, she was just as bewildered as you lot are now."

"You knew my mother," Kit whispered.

Lilith. Kit had never mentioned her mother's name. Why not? A happenstance or was there more magic at play? Cyril looked back long enough to see Broker and Rand start to circle the cabin in a security sweep, then started after Kit, who was already inside.

Before he could cross the threshold, Agatha pivoted to block his way.

Cyril nearly tripped to avoid ramming into the woman, who looked like she might break something if she hit the ground too hard. He stared down at her weathered face, his own set into an expression that usually sent people scurrying to find elsewhere to be.

Agatha lifted her chin, for all the world uncaring that she was glaring up at a dragon who could snap her in two.

"Care to introduce yourself?" Agatha demanded. She looked Cyril up and down, plainly finding him wanting. "And everyone else you seem to think should be coming into my home?"

Cyril lifted a brow.

Agatha, the top of whose head barely came up to his chest, lifted hers in response.

It was difficult to not like the hag, actually. Which didn't mean that Cyril trusted her.

Giving up the stalemate, Cyril bowed. "I'm Kitterny's mate." And the new king of Massa'eve, but that is irrelevant just now. "One of her mates."

Agatha made a pensive sound with the back of her throat. "And behind you, that's the rest of her pack?"

"No." Cyril let the word hang then sighed. He wanted to get into the house where Kit was, but short of barreling over the old woman he was stuck answering her questions. "Those males are from another pack altogether. The rest of our pack is… missing. If you would permit us to come in, I'm happy to tell you more." Cyril let an edge of steel enter his voice as he added, "And perhaps you might share exactly why you seem so unsurprised to find my mate and her sister drop from the sky onto your homestead."

"Well, that seems fair enough of an ask." Agatha started to step aside then stopped. "Take off your dirty boots. Good gods boy, who raised you?"

Cyril glanced at Kit, who had taken her shoes off without being asked. Fine.

Once everyone obeyed—Rand and Broker having returned from their security sweep with curt nods of approval—they were allowed into the small common area. With seven adults, four dragon eggs and a hatchling, the cottage felt immediately crowded. Leesandra's stomach growled. They were all hungry, but the scent of vegetable stew was more enticing to the human than the rest of them.

"I better go slaughter a sheep then," Jonas said, heading back to the door. "Or several. You lot look hungry and I don't think Agatha's turnips will do the trick."

"No need," Cyril said quickly. Whatever else, he was not going to take food from the couple's mouths. He looked over at Rand, who was already nodding. "Let your flock graze. Rand can bring down a deer with enough meat to satisfy us all and the hatchling."

Jonas made a feeble protest, but was clearly relieved and Cyril made a mental note to ensure the couple was well stocked with meat and firewood before they left them.

Agatha on the other hand thrust the hatchling into Leesandra's arms—the only one she seemed to believe competent to handle the pup—and wheeled on Cyril, hands on hips.

"What did I do now?" he asked, double checking that his boots hadn't somehow walked themselves back onto his feet.

"You've been feeding the hatchling raw meat? Good stars. Have you not a mind between the five of you?"

Six actually. But this didn't seem like the time to tell them that Darren was currently minding an armless priest in the backwood. As for the hatchling's feeding, hell, what else was he supposed to give the pup? Cyril cleared his throat. "We are at your command, my lady Agatha. Why don't you correct whatever deficiencies you see and we shall go from there."

"Well then." Agatha's face remained stern, but there was no denying the hint of relief in her voice. For all her posturing, she had been nervous. Worried for herself? Or for Kit and the pup? It was hard to tell. Now, she clapped her hands and surveyed the group again, this time with maternal determination. "Let's get some blankets for a nest, and then get you lot cleaned up. Can one of you stay on your feet long enough to fetch a few buckets of well water? I'll gather some soap… and medicinals too. Seems to me you are in as poor a state as your clothes."

Cyril opened his mouth to protest the delays, but Agatha reached up and patted his shoulder with a kind of kindness that made his scales flush. "Do as you are told, and I'll tell you the story you all want to hear. I promise."

"I believe it will do no good to argue," Broker muttered. "I had a grandmother like this. Clean hands first, end of the world second."

Half hour later, the eggs were set up in a blanketed nest by the fire and everyone else was settled with wash cloths and buckets of water in a circle around the living room. The pup enthusiastically suckled heated goat's milk, which Agatha poured into a makeshift contraption of a wooden cup and cheesecloth. And Kit… Kit seemed uncharacteristically quiet.

Cyril watched her worriedly.

"You said you would tell us everything?" Kit asked Agatha.

"And so I shall." Agatha seated herself on a rocking chair and bid Kit to settle on a pillow on the floor, so she could brush her hair. Cyril almost objected but Kit rolled her eyes at him and he kept his thoughts to himself. Agatha cleared her throat. "A long time ago, Priestess Illiana, a seer devoted to the Goddess Orion, was captured and enslaved by a dragon dame named Roshana. In captivity, Illiana fell in love with Emric, another slave. They cared for each other deeply, and eventually Illiana shared her seer secrets with her lover."

Cyril exchanged a long look with his Kit. What did Emric have to do with this?

"Unfortunately, Illiana and Emric's happiness was short-lived. Roshana became jealous. In her rage, she killed the babes Illiana bore for Emric. Determined to escape Roshana's clutches, Emric convinced Illiana to use her ancestral magic in hopes that Orion might send Illiana a vision with knowledge."

Cyril tilted his head. The story had the same key players Emric's had, but the two tales were diverging further with every word.

"Did it work?" Cyril asked, careful not to let on that he'd heard a version of this already. Keeping his hands occupied, he focused on scrubbing under his nails. He'd washed his face and hands already, but kept on the shirt he'd borrowed from Darren. There was too much damage beneath the cloth. More than he wished Kit to see.

Agatha clicked her tongue. "Hush, and listen. Yes, it did. Seer magic is not usually summoned at will, but Illiana was eventually granted a vision. It told her where to find an ancient text about rune magic—a powerful weapon that could let humans rival the power of the dragons. Illiana wanted to use the magic to escape Roshana's hold. But Emric became obsessed with the book's power. He wanted revenge against the dragons. Even when Illiana became pregnant again, Emric refused to leave, fixated on his plan for vengeance.

"Realizing Emric's heart had darkened and he valued power over their family, Illiana escaped by herself. She gave birth to her daughter alone, and as the child came into the world, she received another prophetic vision. In it, she saw the darkness Emric's path would bring to dragonkind, but also a glimmer of hope. A dragon dame who held the power to save the dragons, and a mortal woman with blond hair and air magic who'd herald the dame's arrival."

"From distant lands, a mortal strays, with locks of white and air that plays," Leesandra offered up the prophecy they all knew. "Thus rises one that's strong and true, who'll conjure life her soul imbued."

Agatha nodded. "That's the one. For generations, the firstborn women in Illiana's line vowed to stay vigilant for the prophecy's fulfillment. I made the same vow, though I doubted its significance, having never experienced any visions myself."

Kit twisted about. "Wait, you are Illiana's descendant?"

"I am," Agatha confirmed. "Though for the first two decades of my life, that fact was little more than ancient family history. A vow made in deference to tradition, not in true belief. But my life changed when my village was attacked."

"Dragons?" Kit guessed.

"Humans. There is plenty of evil to go around. Jonas and I were captured, then sentenced to death when we tried to flee. Before our execution though, we were rescued by a stranger. Lilith, a dragon shifter who'd been hiding with her hatchling in this cabin here." Agatha spread her arms to encapsulate the dwelling.

Kit looked around too, her eyes distant. Sad. Agatha resumed brushing Kit's hair, and Kit's shoulders eased slightly.

"When I saw Lilith's hatchling, the first vision of my life took me," Agatha continued. "I felt the prophecy unfolding, and knew Lilith was involved. I told Lilith, but she laughed off my revelation. After a few weeks, Lilith could not risk staying at the cabin any longer. The Order of Orion was hunting her, and rescuing us had made her vulnerable. She took her daughter and left, leaving the cabin in the care of Jonas and me.

"Years passed. We remained here. What I'd seen in my prophecy allowed me to do nothing else. Plus, where could we go? Then, one day, Lilith returned to us. Her hatchling was now a beautiful young girl. Lilith said that she'd changed her mind and now believed in the vision I shared. She never explained why, and I didn't press. Not when there was a bigger matter weighing on Lilith's soul. She was certain that she could no longer keep her child safe, you see."

Kit bit her lip, a sheen glistening in her eyes. Cyril reached for her but Kit shook her head and stayed by Agatha. Stubborn female, always thinking she needed to prove how strong she was. Didn't she know that Cyril needed no proof of anything from her?

"Lilith loved you more than all life, Kitterny," Agatha said, a tear trailing down her cheek. "More than all the stars. And she believed in your destiny. But she needed to hide you. She was so desperate. Desperate enough to bind your memories and dragon powers until you were strong enough and had a worthy pack at your side."

Agatha braided Kitterny's hair and pinned it up in a crown. The gesture was so easy and maternal that Cyril's stomach clenched at the thought of the years Kit had gone without such care. His thumb brushed over the sigil Ettienne had given him. His father's last act. He'd always thought of Ettienne as a king more than a father, an iron fisted ruler who placed Massa'eve first and saw his sons as tools to that end. But now, now it all felt different. The vial of antidote Ettienne had given Cyril, the words he'd said, the things he'd always noticed. None of it made Ettienne into a model parent, but he had been a parent nonetheless. One who Cyril wished he'd known better.

"When Lilith left for the last time, I felt certain I'd see her daughter again, and that she was the key to the prophecy. So, Jonas and I stayed here in the cabin, awaiting your return, Kitterny. And now here you are."

"Wait," Leesandra said, speaking up for the first time since Agatha's story began. She was holding the now sleeping hatchling and spoke quietly as to not wake the pup. "You said before that you expected Kit and her sister both. So was Lilith pregnant when she was here last?"

"If she was, she was too early to show. I don't know how or when this little one was conceived. Seer magic isn't a book, child. It's feelings and images, pieces of truths that could be or should be—not will be. I foresaw Kit and her sister returning here. How that came to pass I do not know."

"So Lilith wove some sort of location marker into the memory spell?" Broker said. "And when Kit shifted, her dragon knew to return?"

"Maybe," Cyril nodded. He didn't know of such magic himself, but all his schooling focused on powers to use in battle. "Or maybe Kit's dragon had imprinted on the cabin as a place of safety." Did young dragons imprint? Another thing Cyril had no idea about.

"What about my father?" Kit asked. "Did Lilith… did my mother ever tell you?"

Agatha shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, child. She did not."

Kit's throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I don't remember you. From the last time I was in the cabin. I don't remember you."

"Lilith was afraid. Terrified. She worried that if you knew Jonas and me, you might speak of us to the wrong person. It would have placed either you or us in danger. Even with the binding spell."

Cyril frowned, studying Agatha for several heartbeats. Sooner or later, they'd have to tell her that the priest from whom she'd descended was not only still alive but sitting armless on her homestead. He hoped to know the old hag better before having to break that news to her. Or at least to learn all she had to give in case the information stopped.

He straighted his back, which made a fresh jolt of pain spear through him. Emric had hurt him badly, and the crazed flight that followed had been unkind to the wounds. "So now that Kit is here, and the prophecy Illiana foresaw is unfolding, what happens next?"

"I've not the faintest idea," said Agatha.

"What?" Kit twisted around.

"Are you telling us that you waited for Kit all these years, but you don't know why?" Cyril pressed. "I don't wish to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but the cottage alone would have provided her with a soft place to land even without your presence. Surely there is some reason you are here?"

"I imagine there is," Agatha agreed. "And in time we shall learn what it is."

Cyril's jaw tightened. He didn't like that answer.

"May I speak to you alone?" Agatha asked Cyril.

"I see no reason to keep secrets from my mate."

Agatha rose, gave him a look that said but you are keeping secrets from her already, aren't you? She rose from the rocker. "Come, boy. Don't be scared of an old woman."

"Cyril?" Kit frowned.

"I have no idea," he said with a sigh. "But I'm curious enough to find out."

Borrowing from reserves of strength that were already empty, Cyril rose to his feet. Whatever Agatha had to say, he wished it could wait until he wasn't so dizzy with pain and fatigue that he could hardly keep himself upright—but battles were seldom fought at one's convenience. "You realize I'm a dragon, right?" He said to Agatha. "And am older than you by a magnitude of centuries?"

She brushed off the comment with a wave of her hand. "Bah, that's nothing but arithmetic. You are at the dawn of your life and I at the dusk of mine. Come."

Cyril glanced at Kit one final time. If she was at all uncomfortable with him leaving, then he wouldn't. No matter what Agatha said or implied. Kit nodded to him. He glared at Broker and Rand next.

"We'll look after her," Rand said, understanding the silent question. "With our lives."

Knowing better than to wait for Kit's comment on that little vow, Cyril wisely hurried after Agatha.

The old woman led him outside to a small barn, close to the main house. Bypassing a cow and a few bleating goats, Agatha opened the door to a simple room. Dried herbs and medicines lined one wall, and fresh ones grew in tiered plant beds on the others. The scent of raw earth and greenhouse aroma sliced through Cyril's lungs, carrying flashes of a circular chamber.

Cyril gripped the doorframe. He wasn't taking one step more. And if Agatha pushed the issue, she might not walk out of the barn alive.