Chapter 24

To be honest, the easiest thing about it all was learning that Auban was a dragon. That made a lot more sense than Morgan being fated to bond with a human. Plus, the way he was always warmer than he ought to be, given that he was sleeping out in the open next to the sea, and how he’d healed despite the massive number of burns on his body—apparently humans got things called infections, which was when their bodies seemed to fight against themselves after taking wounds.

Not to mention his incredible beauty despite his wounds, his grace, his glorious spirit, and the way their souls seemed to speak together … no, Auban being a dragon was absolutely perfect.

It was everything else that was insane.

“He what?”

“Sariel apparently came back to himself at the first sound of the cannons,” Auban explained. “His wife was so astonished, she didn’t even try to stop him when he ran out of the house and began coordinating an evacuation. It’s thanks to him that none of the children were lost, for certain; but I’m afraid that over half the homes of your villagers have taken damage.

“Once he got people moving to the far side of the island, he leapt into the water just in time to save Garen.”

Morgan frowned. “What was wrong with Garen?”

“He got tangled in the lead lines on the ship as it began to sink,” Auban replied, looking as shamefaced as a bright-red dragon could. “I, um, I didn’t expect to do quite as much damage as I did when I breathed my fire across their vessel. It exploded rather viciously and spread debris far and wide. Garen was struggling, but his father managed to find him and free him before he was dragged too deep.”

“That’s incredible.” Garen must be so happy. Or … “And is Sariel still … present in his mind now?”

“He is,” Auban said. “And he’s not pleased that I’m here, that’s for sure.”

Morgan tried to sit up, then hissed with pain. “How dare he?” he said through gritted teeth. “You saved all of our lives!”

“Be that as it may, I can’t blame him,” Auban said, and he certainly did sound very forgiving. “The poor soul was lost in his mind for over a decade, and when he comes back to himself, he’s confronted with the same nightmare he’d just left, only with an outsider who isn’t even a member of his clan flying around spreading fire everywhere. It’s a lot to take in.”

So it was. Speaking of taking things in … the last thing Morgan remembered was coming back to him now. “I saw the outline of a dragon in the water coming to rescue me,” he said, then gave his best attempt at a leer for Auban. It was a very weak one, but the warm look his lover gave him made Morgan feel accomplished. “Was it you?”

“Ah … no.” Auban shook his head. “I’m no good in the water when I’m in my dragon form, and my human one … well, my strength wouldn’t have been enough to save you, and I didn’t even know where you were when I was rampaging. I’m sorry for that,” he added, a remorseful shine coming into his eyes. “I should have taken better care.”

“How could you possibly have taken better care?” Morgan demanded. “You did everything you could, you—you fought through a mental fog that prevented you from remembering your own past to regain your dragon form for me! I don’t blame you for anything, darling.” He risked snuggling a little deeper into Auban’s coils and was pleased when he ended up feeling only a little tinge in his abdomen. “So who saved me then?”

“Who else? Brevaer, of course.”

“Brev—Brevaer!” Suddenly Morgan’s sense of relaxation evaporated like mist, and he tried to sit up—and failed, thanks to Auban very carefully holding him down, but it was a near thing and still enough effort to leave his wound stabbing with pain. “Where is Brevaer? Is he all right? Is he wounded? He would be here if he weren’t wounded; where is he? Is he going to heal soon?”

“He’s just exhausted,” Auban soothed him. “There are some small burns, yes, and a few scratches from harpoons, but he was very fortunate. And strong. Your brother is an amazing fighter. Even your chief had to admit that.”

Morgan felt cold inside. “Is he feuding with Brevaer?” For Sariel to come back to himself, only to side with Dinigan and his ilk … it would be too cruel.

Then again, Dinigan and Drenikel and their companions might not be much of a force any longer.

“He’s not feuding with him, but Sariel did tell him not to expect to be chief any time soon. Much to the pleasure of his wife,” Auban said wryly, and they shared a look of understanding. Rozyne must be thrilled to have her husband—and her status—back after so long. Thrilled, probably stunned, possibly furious that it had taken so long, but Morgan hoped that her happiness overrode her anger. He hoped that for once, she would let her rage go instead of turning it on those who she chose to blame, such as her poor son.

“What did Brev say?” Morgan asked apprehensively. His brother was wonderful in many ways, but he didn’t have much of a sense of diplomacy …

“He said he’d much rather marry the next chief than be one.”

Morgan stared at Auban. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.”

“He hadn’t even declared his intent to court Garen to Garen yet!”

“I know.”

“And he just blurted it out to his father, who probably hasn’t even wrapped his head around the fact that his son is of marriageable age yet?”

“The shouting match could be heard all the way over here,” Auban said. “Eventually, Garen had to step in and put an end to it. He told his father that he didn’t need to be so protective of him, that he was of age and could do with his life what he wanted. Then he told Brevaer that he’d better not make assumptions about what Garen really did want, and that he’d have to accept that he’s in for a long courtship if he really means it.”

Oh … it was everything Morgan had always hoped for when it came to his brother and his best friend. Intense, dramatic, full of passion and wit and ending with Brevaer dashing his boldness against the rocks of Garen’s stubbornness … “I wish I had been awake for that,” he said mournfully.

“You were busy healing a terrible wound, my love,” Auban said, and the light in his eyes dimmed a bit. “I thought for a while … The bolt went straight through you. It put holes in all sorts of important organs, including your stomach. Your healers injected a special resin into the wounds that closed the holes so they could heal naturally, but they had to go carefully one layer at a time, and … there were several moments that we thought you wouldn’t make it.” He huffed. “It doesn’t help that I’ve been stuck in this form ever since the battle.”

“Stuck in it?” Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps because I was unable to reach it for so long, and now my body is compensating?” Auban’s patchy mane rippled, a dragonish equivalent of a human’s shrug. “I don’t honestly remember all the details of my life as a Brindarra. I think … I think if the things I had to think about were good, I would remember them. I think perhaps my mind is shielding me from a painful past.”

“Oh.” That made an unfortunate amount of sense. “So you don’t know if you have a clan of your own to go back to?”

“Why would I go back?”

“Well … you said that Sariel hasn’t been nice to you, and now you can fly, and you’re a powerful dragon, and …”

Auban leaned down and gently flicked Morgan’s face with his tongue. “We’re mates,” he said. “We belong together. This place is your home, and now that we know I’m a dragon and not human, I think we have a good case for asking for permission to remain together here. If they don’t let us, then if we must go—which I don’t want to do—at least I’ll be powerful enough to protect you.”

“Or I’ll protect you,” Morgan said archly, but inside he was dancing at being the recipient of such a heartfelt declaration.

“And I know you would do it very well,” Auban agreed. “But I hope that you don’t have to, darling.”

A vision of the future spread out before him: one where his tribe was secure and content, where Brev and Garen were married and leading them prosperously, where Auban and Morgan were able to live in this little home of his all by themselves and make it a place where they could be safe and happy together. It was a beautiful vision, and this time the ache in Morgan’s body wasn’t just a twinge from his wound. He longed for this future.

Anything will be better than the hopelessness you faced.

True, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to work as hard as he could for what he really wanted either.