Chapter 27

Cyril

"Kit was able to make contact with Tavias overnight," Cyril debriefed the group as they gathered in Agatha's living room the following morning. The old couple was out doing chores and Broker was minding Emric in the back field. Everyone else was here. "Salazar is holding Tavias, Hauck, and Quinton at Nyx Cliff."

"Good work, Kit!" Leesandra said. "How did you do it?"

The tips of Kit's scales flashed with purple and turquoise hues. "Just a new technique that occurred to Cyril."

Leesandra frowned but didn't push for details. Which was probably a good thing. Cyril was already struggling to keep from growling in lustful appreciation whenever his gaze brushed over Kit. And it brushed over her a lot.

The good news from last night was that Cyril's hypothesis about Kit's magic had proven correct, allowing her to communicate with Tavias mind-to-mind. The bad news—or the even better news, depending on one's viewpoint—was that maintaining the connection required Cyril to keep her at the edge of arousal the entire time. Kit's pleasure and frustration had driven them all insane. Cyril had promised to make it up to her with several climaxes—which he happily delivered later—but the wonderfully wicked things that had kept her on the needed edge were clearly still on her mind.

They were on Cyril's mind as well. Or, more accurately, on his cock's mind.

Cyril felt Kit kick his ankle and realized that he'd stopped speaking, his own scales rising provocatively. Well, there was little he could do about it. It had been an intense night all around.

Darren glanced down at the glass of water he was drinking, then tossed the icy liquid into Cyril's face. "Better now?"

This time Cyril did growl, showing his teeth to the other male.

"What just happened?" Leesandra asked, looking suspiciously between Darren and Cyril.

Instead of answering, Darren pulled Lee's mouth to him and kissed her thoroughly enough to have Cyril's cock straining against his flies again. In the corner of his eye, he could see Kit likewise shifting uncomfortably. Another moment of this, and Cyril was going to drag Kit right back into the small stable. Which was of course exactly the message Darren was intending to impart.

Leesandra just shook her head when Darren finally pulled away and pointedly held her arms out to the hatchling. The little dragon, who'd been entertaining herself by balancing on Kit's lap, happily toddled over to Leesandra instead and started hunting the human's bright braid. Cyril winced as the little hellion's maw narrowly missed Leesandra's shoulder. The dragon's baby teeth were razor sharp, as Cyril's own skin could attest.

"Nyx Cliff?" Rand asked, bringing them back to the debrief.

Right. Pulling himself together, Cyril cleared his throat and resumed speaking with only a little more force than was necessary. "A secret prison a day's flight from the palace. It's a place to stash prisoners who don't officially exist."

Darren's brows pulled together as he processed the information. "Why keep them alive at all?"

"That's a key question," Cyril agreed. "Tavias doesn't know. He and the others got caught in the citadel's collapse. They were drugged, hooded, and taken before they could recover. Probably by Geoffrey's pack. They only know they are at Nyx because Quinton recognized the place."

Quinton. The male seemed to have a new side to him every time Cyril turned around. Or, more accurately, Cyril was only now becoming aware of the secrets his brother had shouldered alone for years. He rubbed the back of his head. "Speaking of Quinton… He insists we connect with LadyAutumn before making any moves."

"The foreign princess from the Slate Court?" Darren's brows lifted higher. "Why her?"

"Long story," Kit drawled. "Enough to say, she likely has vital intelligence. And she can be trusted. Absolutely."

Darren and Rand both looked like they were about to question that premise, but Kit shook her head and both males settled. They'd pledged themselves to her. Kit's word was enough for them. How come none of the nobles who took vows to obey the throne ever obeyed like that?

"Quinton believes she'd have returned to the Massa'eve capital," Kit continued. "It's a week's flight to get there and back. Quinton felt… strongly… the delay to fetch her would be worth it."

The logistics of carrying on that argument had been interesting to say the least. Neither Cyril nor Kit liked the notion of leaving the pack at Nyx longer than necessary, but Quinton had been adamant that any action taken without whatever secrets Autumn held in her head was bound to fail. Last night wasn't the time to press him on it, but that would come.

"Alright." Darren rose to his feet. "I'll go find this princess and bring her here then."

"No, I'll go." Cyril stood to pace the small confines of the room, as if it were a ship's quarterdeck. "Geoffrey knows you allied with us. That means Salazar knows. If you are spotted, you'll be in Nyx quicker than you can breathe. That's if you are able to draw breath at all."

Darren stepped in front of Cyril. "Forgive my bluntness, but you are barely alive yourself. And you've pups now, and our whole bloody kingdom to protect. You can't go. And I'm the swiftest flier amongst us."

Rand nodded his agreement.

"Plus, if this Autumn is as all knowing as Quinton seems to believe, she might know about Sethis." Darren tightened his jaw. "And no, you do not need to worry that I will abandon my mission to go hunting for my brother."

"That was never a concern," Cyril said firmly. He gave it one more moment's thought then clasped the male's forearm. "Thank you. And swift winds."

Darren nodded, then held his hand out to Leesandra, whose body had gone taught with dread from the moment Darren proposed his plan. Now, the young woman pulled herself together with admirable grace and stood, the hatchling still cradled to her

"There is one thing I'd ask you to do before I leave though," Darren said, splitting his attention between Cyril and Kit. "Give your hellion a name. It's ridiculous how everyone keeps calling her the hatchling."

Kit's eyes widened deliciously. "Umm…"

"I have a name for her," Cyril said.

"You do?" Kit and Leesandra said together, with equal suspicion. What, did they think he was unqualified to propose a name?

"I do," Cyril said, pulling Kit's back against his chest. All the curves of her body fit perfectly against him. "The hatchling's name is Lilith."

Kit inhaled, but it was the pleasure that flowed through the bond between them that told Cyril he'd hit the mark.

"Lilith," Kit echoed.

"Lilith is perfect," said Leesandra.

The newly named Lilith perked up in Leesandra's arms and blinked her large ruby red eyes at Kit.

"Want to come here?" Disengaging from Cyril, Kit held out her arms for the dragon.

The little beast hopped to the floor instead, her wings flapping ineffectually all the way down. Cyril dreaded the moment Lilith would learn to use those wings for flight. Apparently unhappy with where she ended up, Lilith opened her mouth to emit an ear splitting shriek.

Cyril narrowed a stern gaze at her. "That is not how we communicate."

Lilith swung her snout toward him, then away. And then belched a torrent of flame at the curtains.

The thin, flower patterned cloth caught fire immediately—to Lilith's happy coos.

Cyril swore and grabbed a jug of water, using his magic to guide the liquid to the flame.

Kit grabbed Lilith off the floor. "No belching fire or you live outside."

"You can't put a baby outside," Leesandra protested as Lilith tried to belch flame again. This time Kit managed to grab the pup's mouth and hold it shut, so only a few puffs of smoke came out.

"That," Cyril pointed, "that isn't a baby, it's a hellhound." His heart pounded. "I'm starting to think our whole theory of the dragons' demise is incorrect. Maybe it had nothing to do with the Order of Orion. Maybe it was that everything dragon hatchlings do is incompatible with life—theirs, and their parents'."