Chapter Twenty-Three Zara

Very clearly, Ronin's pissed as fuck that we're here.

But he's right about one thing.

Getting in and out of the parallel world of Avalon is, like, a major ordeal.

First there's the magical portal over the Icarus Island standing stones that turns your guts inside out in that mindfuck transit between our two realms.

Then you gotta avoid those massive flights of feral dragons flying amuck all over Avalon Island. Those dragons are, one, carnivorous hunters that literally eat random Fae for breakfast and, two, maniacally drawn to my dragon when she's in heat in a way we definitely don't wanna encourage.

Having my own guys in rut is more than sufficient to knock me up. I mean, if we decide for sure we want that.

Finally, there's apparently this whole Dark Fae insurrection bubbling under the political surface that Zephyr and Ash between them are barely keeping in check.

Long story short?

By the time my guys and I come winging into view over the goblin city (that's what I call the Dark Fae capital, kinda an inside joke, because Labyrinth ), we've been flying for hours.

My warlocks and me, we're all pretty rough.

Insurrection or no, we arrive on the wing (which is a power move) because I figure this is one of those times when you don't hide your light under a basket .

Besides, even if I felt like being sneaky, Zephyr's too proud to come slinking into his own city like a thief in the night. This is a guy who shows up with fanfare and the blowing of trumpets to hail His Moon-Dazzled Radiance.

And Vasili never lets anyone dim his sparkle.

So I soar over the Unseelie city at sunset like the dragon queen I am, my teal wings spread wide like sails to catch the downdraft, while the swollen red orb of the setting sun paints the sea indigo and bathes the shining spires and pale walls of Zephyr's fairytale castle in a wash of crimson. The shadowy bulk of the Avalon volcano—now dormant since the two of us broke the curse that was dooming this whole island—looms in shades of mauve and lilac against the magenta sky.

A balmy summer wind washes over me, laced with the spicy fruit of jasmine and the voluptuous sweetness of tuberose. I breathe in deep to fill my cavernous lungs with that half-forgotten scent—a heady aphrodisiac to my shifty senses—and my six-chambered heart beats harder.

I've grown to think of Icarus as home, mostly because that's where my warlocks are. This place… Avalon… exudes all the seductive enchantment of fairyland.

But that seduction is deceptive as fuck.

We're not safe.

We've finally left the ferals behind, and only royals ride on dragonback in Avalon. That means we have the sky to ourselves.

So I arrow boldly over the dizzying jumble of twisting streets and sloping rooftops, while wary citizens scatter and bolt from the streets in a panic (because dragon) and startled faces pop into view in the tall arched windows. I bellow in the brassy rumble of my lightning voice to announce our arrival.

Behind me, the deep rumble of Max's dragon cleaves the air, punctuated by Xhevith's nails-on-chalkboard scream and Vasili's rattling hiss. Then we all plummet straight down from cruising altitude in a daredevil descent. Ronin's gleeful yell, where he and Neo are strapped to Max's back in a riding harness my clever bookworm rigged for both of them, is like the coda of our soundtrack.

No doubt about it, we're coming in hot.

Even if poor Lucius, whose wolf clearly does not like flying, has been clinging green-faced and grimly silent behind Zephyr in the dragon saddle all day .

As the shining spikes on the castle turrets rush toward us, I spin in a tight spiral to clear my six (that's because dragons have a major blind spot behind us). Then I dive for the broad stone ledge of Xhevith's lair, alight and snap my wings in tight to make room for my guys, and surrender to my shift in a blinding flash of heat and light.

My bare human feet have hardly hit the ledge before Xhev's big green bulk settles heavily beside me.

That's when the scream of literal trumpets nearly makes me jump out of my human skin.

"Cheese on toast!" I yell as Zephyr unbuckles his fighting straps, swings a leg over, and scrambles nimbly down Xhev's helpful foreleg to alight beside me. "What is that, a doorbell?"

"Royal accolade." Calmly he twists back to unbuckle Lucius, whose face is pale as milk as he sits stiffly in the unfamiliar saddle. "You will grow accustomed. After all, you are now our queen."

"Think I'd rather have a blast of something a little more… today? Like maybe some K-pop?" That's me trying to joke.

Of course, this Unseelie mate of mine has a cultural gap big enough to drive a Mack truck through. So he tilts his head quizzically and gets that little furrow between his green brows that happens when he's perplexed.

"K-pop." Carefully he tries out the word. "I shall instruct the minstrels."

I snicker and reach for my gorgeous dragonscale leathers, custom-made in my teal and his green to fit my royal posterior and still hanging on the peg where I left my gear weeks ago (because of course I'm all nakey after my shift). I'm pulling the pants up my legs, commando style, when my eye catches a flash of green and silver.

That's a forked banner—a massive one—being winched up a flagpole by unseen hands on the peak of the highest tower looming over us.

"King in residence," Zephyr explains briefly to my probably startled face. "That banner is the Unseelie equivalent of a witching world news broadcast. The next will be yours."

Sure enough, a teal banner follows his up the flagpole. My banner's as big and splendid as his. Seeing it makes my chest glow with a sudden warmth I don't expect.

That's the warmth of belonging. The warmth of feeling welcomed .

"Queen in residence, huh?" I say softly.

Zephyr inclines his head in a regal nod. Confronted with whatever must be written on my face, the hint of a smile softens his cold Fae features.

It's not like I need validation. But considering what's going down with my crown in the witching world right now?

I kinda appreciate this level of acceptance.

While I'm feeling all the feels, Zephyr extends a courteous gauntlet to help Lucius (who looks like he needs it) down from the saddle.

"Thank you, Your Radiance," my headmaster says faintly. "With any luck, we'll not be obliged to do that again in a hurry."

My wolf is fully human at the mo, but he's got the bipedal equivalent of a tail tucked between his legs. His hands look unsteady as he unbuckles his oxblood briefcase and vintage satchel, then slides an old-fashioned Mary Poppins umbrella from behind the saddle.

(To be fair, it does look like rain.)

"Hey, Lucius. You okay?" Hastily I pull the dragonscale catsuit over my shoulders, zip that shit up so I don't flash my tits at the staff, and hurry over to help him. Especially considering half the clothes in that satchel are actually mine.

Lucius summons a wan smile and hands me the umbrella to carry. "The less said about how I'm currently feeling, the better."

Maxim's massive black dragon settles beside us on the ledge with a powerful backwing, then fills the air with a deafening bellow that almost blows us all over.

Among this island's population of scrawny ferals, Max is the dominant male. Clearly, his dragon wants all our enemies—both known and unknown—to know he's here.

Being in rut with a permanent boner just makes him worse.

Ronin unbuckles from the harness and leaps down to the ledge with a whoop. He might not be happy about our visit to fairyland (like, at all ), but my psycho Brit loves flying. He looks wicked in his leather pants and shitkickers, with the inky flames of his tattoo sneaking past the collar of his heavy metal tee. His golden eyes are fiery and his tawny face is alight in a savage grin.

"You see Max flame at those ferals?" He gives Max's scaly black shoulder a hearty thump. "He's a proper badass, he is. "

Max twists his long neck around and rumbles affectionately at Ronin, his round dragon orbs lidded and glowing with pleasure.

Meanwhile Neo unbuckles his harness and clambers down Max's foreleg under his own steam, though my fated mate feels kinda wobbly in our bond. Flying's definitely not a bookworm thing, but he's gotten used to it, and overall he's looking a whole lot better than Lucius.

Ronin reaches back to swing the hiker's pack Neo's toting over his own strong shoulder, then throws an arm around our bookworm's neck to give him a rough hug of encouragement.

"Good job in the air, love," Ronin murmurs. "I'm proud of you."

Neo blushes with happiness and snuggles into him, then turns his soft smile on me.

Ronin turns to watch Zephyr coax his dragon into the lair to make room on the landing ledge for Vasili, who's still circling the dragon-haunted city in a way that's gotta upset the locals.

My Unseelie King's got staff these days, the kind he hand-picks for loyalty, so a couple of capable-looking Dark Fae stable hands are already mucking around with Xhev's saddle and bridle and a jar of that oil the dragon likes getting rubbed down with, you know, to moisturize. (Otherwise, Zephyr says, a non-shifting dragon's scales get itchy.)

The Dark Fae King divides his attention between dragon care and the interior stair that twists down to the palace. Clearly he's worried about Ash, who should've come charging up those stairs like a linebacker to welcome us home.

A ping of worry tightens my gut and quickens my breath. Now that I'm here, I wanna know Ash is okay, like, immediately.

While Zephyr fulminates around his dragon with his mouth tight and his movements twitchy in a way that clearly makes his staff nervous, and while Ronin pretends not to watch, a coil of glittering silver lands on the ledge with a flash of iridescent wings that sparkle in the setting sun.

Vasili's barely down before he shifts. He's already reaching impatiently for Ronin's backpack (which holds his flashy clothes) before he's settled fully into his human shape.

Maxim shifts back last, which tells me he's on edge and probably still high on endorphins and testosterone from bullying the ferals.

Max is easily the most disreputable of my guys, with his scarred back and the twin barbells through his nipples and that barbed wire manacle tattooed around his wrist. Under my appreciative eye, he rakes a hand through his long blond hair and twists it into a warrior's braid (in case we need to fight). Then he dips into Ronin's pack and pulls one of Ronin's silky button-downs around his scarred shoulders.

Poor Max. He's more sensitive about covering his scars than he is about covering his dick.

Meanwhile, his suspicious slitted eyes dart everywhere. The skittish stable hands give him a wide berth.

"You must wear whatever pleases you, of course." Zephyr casts a cool eye over my windblown harem. "However, I've commanded suitable attire and guest chambers made ready for your entire harem, my bride."

"Yeah, we'll all get cleaned up in a sec." I swipe a worried hand through my own messy curls. "We gonna look for Ash first or what?"

A frown shadows Zephyr's wary gaze.

"In truth, he should be here already. At this hour, our home is his accustomed place, and the Seelie Prince is very much a creature of habit." He pauses. "But Ash is regent in my absence, and those duties demand odd hours. Perhaps he's merely… asleep."

"Huh." I shoot a dubious look at the setting sun. "He'd be a pretty late riser—or early sleeper—if he is."

"'Tis possible." Zephyr's gaze narrows on the high tower. "No matter. If he's indeed in residence, I know precisely where to find him."

My Unseelie's already stalking for the stairs, swords crossed over his shoulders and green hair streaming in the wind. Now we stream after him (in various states of undress) like chicks after a hen.

Xhevith is slurping water from his big trough in the lair, and I know he'll fly out later to hunt. When I scurry past, he lifts his dripping muzzle to croon at me. Under his possessive stare, my dragon queen gives him a flirty chirp and preens like the diva she is.

We all pile into the twisting stone stairwell, lit by pale glowing crystals stuck in the walls like torches that generate the cool illumination the Fae call witchlight. I'm used to the spectacle by now, but Lucius gazes around in rapt fascination.

"Your guest chambers await on the lower level. I trust you'll find the accommodations to your satisfaction," Zephyr says coolly to the collective, then turns to me. "Of course, my queen shares the royal chambers in the tower with me."

My mouth pops open in shock.

Oh, hell to the no with that shit.

But Ronin beats me to the punch with a rude snort. "Yeah, good luck with that, mate."

"Um, no." I give Zephyr the stink-eye. "We talked about this on Day One, remember? My guys and me, we're a package deal. If we're too much for you to handle? Houston, we have a problem."

Zephyr's clearly chafing to find his missing mate, but he breathes out strongly through his nostrils and visibly strains for patience.

"I have indeed agreed to accept your other males in our bed to please you, my bride. You need only choose the one you desire to join us this night." Zephyr looks nowhere in particular while my mates crowd around us in the stairwell, but I can feel the tension humming between him and Ronin like a live wire.

"Looks like someone's failed his Basics of Polyamory exam." Vasili slips one arm around my waist, one arm around Ronin's, and sneers at our prickly host. "Haven't you been reading your why-choose romance, darling? Zara doesn't have to choose . In this polycule, we're all together. If you can't manage the math… or the biology… you and the winged wonder will be occupying that royal bed of yours alone."

V's not a lightning witch, but fuck if this stairwell doesn't crackle with electricity.

Max lets loose with a possessive growl and his lean hot body crowds up against my back. Like the peacemaker he is, Neo hovers between the warring parties, but nibbles his lip and looks anxious. Even my patient Lucius is glaring at our obnoxious host, wolf eyes pulsing red in the witchlight. Ronin leans in to nuzzle V's ear, but my Brit's amber gaze smolders at Zephyr the whole time.

"Very well," Zephyr says curtly under the weight of our hostile stares. "By the moon, follow me or do not. I thought to give us all time to grow accustomed to this… novel arrangement. If you are so eager to warm the king's bed without delay, the lot of you are welcome there in your entirety."

Half my guys are still wrapping their heads around all that, and bristling over the irritating parts, when my Unseelie pivots away and darts through the little door that leads to the high tower above the lair. He's a fast mover, but I sprint right after him, now that he's not actively trying to separate me from my warlocks.

"Want me to push him off the roof again?" Ronin mutters behind me. "Forgot how pissy the bloke can be."

Despite the tension sparking in the air and my mounting concern over the absent Ash, I'm relieved Ronin can crack a joke (even a tiny one) over their effed-up history.

"Cut him a break, okay, Ronin?" Neo says softly as they all crowd into the snug spiral stair behind me. "He's really worried about Ash, and so is Zara."

I swear our bookworm is sweeter than any of us deserves.

Ronin grumbles as he climbs. Max can't seem to stop growling, low and deep in his chest. Lucius' wolf whines as our headmaster brings up the rear—guarding everyone's back. And Vasili's skulking silence is downright sinister.

But this uneasy state of affairs is probably as good as it's gonna get in this harem. I mean, at least until we all fuck (if that's even in the cards).

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Vasili murmurs in response to my thought, his tone sharp with spite.

I sigh and switch off the psychic leakage, then power up the stairs behind Zephyr's lithe scramble. A sudden gust of wind fills the stairwell and the door at the top blows open before Zeph even touches it, because his elemental Fae magic is wind.

He shoots through the doorway with me right on his heels. The room beyond opens around me. I jolt to a stop and stare in amazement.

This entire tower was closed off during my earlier visit, so I've never seen this joint.

And man, was I missing out.

I'm standing in a perfectly octagonal jewel of a room that's like an eagle's aerie, all high ceiling and sunken floor and leaded-glass windows all around. A wooden ledge like a window seat rims the space, piled with colorful cushions in some places and rows of vintage books and exotic artifacts in others.

Otherwise, this whole joint is basically one huge round bed, soft and squishy, gleaming with the feathery pastel iridescence of Faerie blankeys. I take one look and wanna sink right down into those deep soft depths with all my guys. Especially with accessories like fur-lined leather cuffs chained to the wall, a cushioned spanking bench parked against one window, and Zephyr's impressive collection of immaculately kept floggers, crops, and whips lovingly displayed on the walls.

Sweet Jesus.

The guy's even got a high-end dildo collection I've somehow missed getting acquainted with, I mean, until now.

Now he's not even hiding that shit.

This whole space is dimly lit by an impressive jumble of glowing violet crystals hanging from the ceiling, plus an ebbing sliver of ruby sunset over the flat expanse of orchid sea. Faint pinprick stars wink into view against the purple sky.

I'm still gaping at the spectacle when the guys pile into the room behind me. Like me, they stop and stare.

"Oh, crap," Neo whispers.

But he doesn't sound freaked out. He sounds… awed and reverent.

I sneak a peek at my fated mate and find him gazing at the elegant St. Andrew's Cross suspended over the bed. His lips are parted and his glasses are steaming.

Yowsa. That's gonna be something worth exploring.

But not now.

Zephyr slices one look across the empty room with its intriguing array of sexual options, then pivots and darts through one of two doors that bracket the one we just came through. I peek past the open door not chosen—clearly some kinda ultra-luxe bathroom sitch I totally wanna check out later, but it's empty.

Then I follow my fleet-footed Unseelie down a couple of stairs into a crescent-shaped den.

These digs are totally different, more like an Old World library done in weathered seadrift wood, piled high with shelves upon shelves of books that soar all the way to the shadowy ceiling. Complete with a rolling stair, a cluster of high-backed chairs and ottomans around a fireplace, the dangling complexity of an orrery with planets and moons and shit, then a massive desk backed up against a pair of stained-glass doors and a balcony.

It's obvi to me this is a well-loved and lived-in space, the desk cluttered with open books and curling papers and a witchlight orb for a reading lamp. Lavender witchfire crackles from a jumble of crystals in the hearth.

But this room too is empty.

Even though the still air is haunted by the bracing ocean-and-citrus aroma that says Ash to me.

"Ash," I say softly to Zephyr's still frame. He's standing totally still before the desk, staring at it intently, like he really hoped to find our guy there and now he's trying to will his Seelie lover into appearing. "Where is he?"

Slowly Zephyr turns to face me, his face all stark and drawn. Under the green slash of his eyepatch, his olive skin stretches tight. His throat ripples as he swallows.

"Where is he?" I ask again in a tiny voice, because now I'm afraid to hear the answer.

My Unseelie pulls in a slow breath. The soft sound fills the heavy silence.

Quietly he tells me, "I do not know."