30

Rahzien's new prison turns out to be a formerly volcanic island a couple hours' flight east of Ouroskelle—a place the dragons call the Ashmount. It's a wasteland of huge spiked rocks, so oddly shaped that I imagine they might once have been the ribs of some titanic, arcane dragon, now heavily cloaked in layers of hardened lava. Dark flowers cluster in hollows, each ashen bloom emitting wisps of pale blue light.

"Ash-roses," Thelise calls to me as our dragons soar over the barren landscape. "They are a sign that the volcano beneath this island has spent itself, and is at peace. We need not fear it."

At the center of the island, on a rocky peak, stands an ancient stone fortress. Both dragons land on a lower parapet, a broad ledge rimmed with deteriorating stones, like broken teeth.

After Thelise dismounts, Ashvelon transforms into his human self. I don't want to stare because he's naked, but I'm terribly curious about his appearance, so I sneak a glance while he's putting on the clothes she brought for him.

Ashvelon is slim and tall, with a pale, boyishly pretty face, light blue eyes, and wavy blond hair down to his shoulders. Even though he's twenty-five years older than Kyreagan, his human form looks around the same age.

Kyreagan is watching him too, yellow eyes narrowed. He doesn't say anything, and I can't tell what he's thinking.

"You should shift," I tell him, unslinging the bags I brought. Back at the palace I packed one bag with some food and a change of clothes each for Kyreagan and me. The other bag contains more food and a few necessities for Rahzien's survival.

Thelise doesn't look away when Kyreagan shifts. She takes in every inch of him, then winks at me as if to say, You're welcome.

Kyreagan has barely pulled up his pants when Rahzien moves, quick as a wildcat. He charges Kyreagan, head down, barreling into Ky's gut and knocking him over. Rahzien stomps his boot at the dragon prince's face, but Ky rolls just in time. With a shout, Ashvelon leaps onto the King's back, locks both arms around his throat, and squeezes. Rahzien crashes backward into the wall, smashing Ashvelon's body against the stone.

Seething with anger, Kyreagan scrambles up, ready to join the fight, and I'm lunging forward too—but Thelise beats us both. She's in front of Rahzien before we can blink, her fingers splayed clawlike over his heart, crackles of violet lightning dancing along her palm.

"Enough," she says.

Rahzien snarls a laugh. "You can't kill me without killing Serylla."

"Oh, I don't need to kill you. I know how to put a beast down for a while." Her fingers flex, and Rahzien's face goes rigid. He topples sideways, limbs locked in place, and he hits the floor with a resounding thud.

"You alright, pet?" asks Thelise

Ashvelon peels himself away from the wall and wheezes, "Never better. "

"Poor thing." She ruffles his hair with her fingers. "I'll give you a treat later. Time to dispose of the garbage, dragons. I assume you want him in the tower?"

Clearly Kyreagan and Ashvelon haven't thought about it beyond put the bad king in the ancient human fortress , but after a glance at each other, they nod sagely, as if that was their plan all along.

"Good boys." She snaps her fingers toward the stairs. "Off you go."

While Ky and Ashvelon drag Rahzien's body up an interminably long circular stairway, Thelise and I follow at a slower pace. I'm slightly unsteady during the climb to the top, possibly from weariness… or perhaps I took one too many sips from the flask Thelise tossed me.

Rahzien remains open-eyed and rigid, even when he's hauled into the tower room and tossed onto a wooden cot. It's a bare space, with a stone floor cloaked by a ragged bit of moldering carpet. There's no fireplace, and no furniture except the cot. A few rusted weapons lean against the wall, but Ashvelon picks them up and tosses them out the window.

"Tomorrow we'll bring him a dyre-stone for warmth and light," Kyreagan says. "We don't have the keys to his shackles, so he'll have to remain chained, at least for now."

"As long as he can reach his mouth to eat and his ass to wipe, that's fine." Thelise picks up a pair of wooden buckets and holds them out. "How perfect! One to catch rainwater, and the other for shit. All the luxuries the asshole deserves."

I can't help giggling, which seems to please Thelise greatly. She sets down the buckets and takes my hand. "Alright, my friend, tell me about this life-link between you and the King."

At first I'm hopeful that she'll be able to free me completely from my bond with Rahzien. But after I explain everything to her, she shakes her head with an apologetic grimace .

"I'm afraid I can't sever it, either," she says. "Proximity spells are easy to break. Life-links, not so much. Some magic simply cannot be undone, or it can only be unraveled in specific ways. There's no way around this, unfortunately, so we must keep him here. The good news is that his condition won't affect you in any other way. If he breaks a bone, you'll be fine. If he's ill, you won't feel it."

"So we don't have to keep him comfortable," Kyreagan says darkly. "We just have to keep him alive."

"Yes… except he might grow tired of this existence and leap from the tower, killing both Serylla and himself," Thelise muses. She plucks a few red-gold hairs from Rahzien's head, then plops down on the floor and opens her satchel. "Give me some time and space, while I devise an appropriate spell to prevent that."

Kyreagan and I leave her and Ashvelon in Rahzien's new quarters, and we head downstairs to one of the shabby, musty rooms. We stand together in the archway that leads onto the parapet, looking out over the dark, rocky landscape.

"I didn't expect a volcanic island to be so cold." I suppress a shiver.

"The volcano is dead," says Kyreagan. "No warmth left, or we would not risk leaving Rahzien here."

"I know." I rub my arms, conscious that I'm still in the white dress Rahzien ordered me to wear today. "Back at the palace, I took the time to pack but not to change. Silly of me. I intended to put on something else, but then I got to talking with Parma, and I forgot."

"Your mind is tired," Kyreagan consoles me. Then, stiffly, as if he's forcing himself to ask the question and pretending to care: "How is Parma?"

"She'll be fine, now that she's free of Rahzien." I squirm a little, remembering the awkward conversation between me and my former maid. "I offered to find her a new position, or bring her to Ouroskelle, but she didn't seem to want any help at all. I think she's done with life as a maid—and possibly done with me, at least for a while. I don't blame her. I'm now part of some of the worst memories of her life. She needs time, and space. I told her to take anything she wanted from the palace and just go. Start a new life. I hope she does."

I shiver again. Kyreagan starts to put his arm around me, then hesitates. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

He leads me outside onto the parapet, where he hands me his clothes and shifts into dragon form. We take off from there and glide over the forests of spiked rocks and plains of black stone, until Kyreagan seems satisfied with our location.

"Stand here, on this ridge," he tells me.

I stay put, rubbing my chilled arms as he prowls down the slope to the bottom of the valley, where the ancient lava flow hardened in ripples of ebony rock.

Under the overcast sky, with his black scales and spikes, Kyreagan blends into the landscape almost perfectly. His yellow eyes blink at me to make sure I'm watching. Then he faces the length of the valley, and a river of fire pours from his jaws. The heat is so intense I can feel waves of it from where I stand.

Kyreagan roars, flames shooting from his mouth, and the black rock beneath his feet begins to glow amber. With another burst of his magic, the rocks themselves seem to melt, and rivulets of orange lava trickle through the dark ground.

The texture of the slow, oozing lava fascinates me. It swells, rich and thick and molten, and along the bright glowing edges it holds intense color, deep purple or blue, before it fades to chalky black again.

Kyreagan shifts to human form and stands there, beautiful and naked and powerful, his black hair flowing behind him and his horns glimmering with traces of his fiery magic. He's motionless, glorious, surveying the flaming destruction he wrought .

I can't bear being this far from him, not after everything. I need to be touching him so I'll know he's real, that all of this is real, that I'm not feverish and hallucinating deep in some infested dungeon, waiting for Rahzien to come and give me a drink of water laced with poison….

I can feel myself going deeper into my head, into a dangerous and frightening place, so I halt that course of thought, and I pick my way cautiously down into the valley, avoiding any fiery spots or trickles of lava, until I reach my dragon prince.

"I told you to stay on the ridge," he says, with a half-smile.

"You knew I wouldn't listen. At least not for long. When do I ever do as I'm told?" Forcing a smile, I hand over his clothes. He pull the pants on and fastens them, but before he gets the shirt all the way on, I stop him. My palm presses to his skin… his hot, smooth, perfect skin. He's still bruised and scraped in a few places, and there's a seam of dried blood on the right side of his lower lip, but he's whole. He's safe.

My fingers glide over his chest.

"You're beautiful," I whisper. "And you looked like a king just now. Not the Bone-King, maybe, but a king nonetheless. And a king needs a crown."

I remove the silver band from my hair and exert a little pressure, bending it ever so slightly wider so it will fit Kyreagan. I set it above his brow, with the silver swirls arching back beyond his temples.

"It suits you," I say softly. "Better than it ever did me. Ky, I don't want to take my mother's place. I can't think of anything I want less than ruling Elekstan, honestly. The people are free of Rahzien, and I'm happy to let Meridian and the rebels take it from here. Let them set up a government of their choosing, or none at all."

"So you'd rather not be a queen?" His face is sober, his gaze uncertain .

"No. But I don't mind being the life-mate of a king." I slide my left hand around the back of his neck, delighting in the silken flow of his hair beneath my fingers. "As long as that king is part human, part dragon, and completely, obsessively, ridiculously in love with me."

"I think I know someone like that," he murmurs. His claws disappear, and one of his hands glides along my arm, while the other presses warmly against my waist. "But living with me on Ouroskelle won't be easy. Our clan is new to being shifters, and our way of life will have to change accordingly. Things may be difficult and confusing for a while. The work of discovering ourselves and raising the next generation will not be easy."

"All the more reason for me to be there and help you. I've never been afraid of hard work."

"Though when I first captured you, you wanted me to believe otherwise." His dark eyes sparkle, and he attempts to mimic my voice. "‘Dragon, bring me soap, and a towel, and a cup of fucking tea !'"

His shrill fake voice is too much. I'm laughing so hard I have to let go of him, and I double over, holding my stomach, wheezing with laughter. He laughs too, a deep, rich sound that's so contagious I can't stop until there are tears in my eyes and my sides hurt.

"Oh god," I gasp finally, gripping his arm for support as I stand upright again. "That felt so good."

"So fucking good," repeats Kyreagan. Amber sparks glitter hotly in his dark eyes, and my heart flutters at the warmth, the deep affection, the desire in his gaze.

The fire in the valley has died out, and the molten rocks are cooling again, though an orange glow still mingles with the blue mist from the ash-roses. Kyreagan spewed an incredible amount of fire across the landscape, and he did it after burning several Vohrainians in the market square, too .

"How do you feel?" I ask. "You once told me that if you use too much fire, it takes a while for you to recharge. Do you feel—empty?"

"Not at all," he replies. "It was satisfying. I'd been saving it up for Rahzien, so I needed somewhere to put it. And ever since you and I started fucking, my magic has been stronger."

"Then it's true. Being active during mating season strengthens a dragon's magic. Do you think Fortunix's magic has lessened, since he spent the season alone?"

"Most likely." Kyreagan's expression darkens. "I'd rather not hear his name again, Serylla."

"Of course. Though I do wonder where he went."

"I'm sure he'll appear again, at the worst of times," grumbles Kyreagan. "Perhaps I'll hunt him down someday and make him pay for his part in all this."

"But not now. Not anytime soon." I rub his chest through the open shirt. "Let's go back to the fortress. Maybe Thelise has finished whatever she's doing, and we can go home. I'm getting ridiculously excited about seeing the eggs. Is that strange?"

"Not at all." He kisses my forehead. "I'm excited, too. They should be nearly ready to hatch, if they haven't already."

"I can't wait to meet them! Although that means we'll be having less sex."

"Why?" Kyreagan asks innocently.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Because we can't have sex in front of our children."

"During the mating heat, quarter-century dragons often see their parents mating with other dragons," he counters. "At least, that's what I've been told. And parents see their children mating as well. It's a joyful experience."

"Eww, no. No, no no ." I wrinkle my nose. "For one thing, quarter-century dragons are primes at that point—adults, not hatchlings. And even then, I think it's gross. You're a human as well as a dragon now, Ky. Trust me—having sex in front of little ones would be deeply disturbing for everyone. Just think about it."

At first I think he's going to argue the point with me—but realization dawns slowly on his face, and his eyes widen.

"You're right," he says hoarsely. "That would be wrong."

"Yes. When we want to fuck, we'll have to find some privacy. Maybe a nearby cave or something…"

"I have an idea," he interjects, his eyes alight.

"Maybe ask me about it first, before you do it?" I wince at him playfully. "Just to be safe."

"Of course. We'll discuss it at home."

I half expect him to strip off his clothes again and fly me back to the fortress, but he holds out his hand. "Walk back with me?"

I slip my hand in his, palm to palm. A slow heat thrums between us as we make our way up the valley, toward the mountainous peak where the fortress stands.

Kyreagan's thumb circles across the back of my hand, rubbing gently. I don't know why that tender, tiny caress turns my skin ultrasensitive in that spot and sets every nerve in my body alight, but I can't seem to think of anything but the slow stroking of that strong male thumb.

Then he twists his hand slightly and traces the tip of his thumb across the heated center of my palm.

A thrill races right up my arm and into my body, then straight down to my clit.

When I look up, he's watching me with a sultry smile.

"Meridian taught me that," he says. "He called it a seduction move."

"Remind me to thank him. Not that it takes much for you to seduce me." I reach up and pull his face down to mine.

The kiss is molten lava, surging through both of us. I'm glowing at every point where our bodies press, incandescent and softening between my legs .

Kyreagan slides the straps of my dress off my shoulders, then pushes my neckline down until he can cup my bare breast in his hand.

"We're out in the open," I rasp against the heated silk of his mouth.

"Doesn't matter to me," he replies, wrapping his hand firmly around the back of my skull and opening his mouth wide to accept my tongue.

I kiss him deeply, lavishly, barely aware that he's scraping my dress upward along my thighs until his strong fingers cup my pussy over my wet panties.

"I love this tender little cunt," he murmurs, tracing the shape of my pussy lips through the damp fabric.

Deftly he tugs the material aside and sinks two fingers into me, while my mind goes hazy and desperate and blissful. I forget where we are… I forget everything except riding his hand. I cling to his neck, both arms wrapped tight around him while he plays with me. He had plenty of practice while we rode out the great storm, the Mordvorren, and he hasn't forgotten the skills he learned—grinding the heel of his hand against my clit, or caressing the tiny nub with his thumb while his fingers are buried inside.

"Come for me," he urges softly as I whimper against his shoulder. His lips graze my cheekbone. "Come in my hand, my darling, my queen, my life-mate. Come all over my fingers."

And I do. I come helplessly, with frantic little cries of bliss, and he cups me hard, humming with pleasure as my pussy spasms against his hand.

Kyreagan gathers me closer, his wet fingers slick against my shoulder. His cock is thick and hard under his pants, so when my breathing is back to normal, I drop to my knees, only to find that kneeling is especially painful on lumpy lava rock .

"Ow," I exclaim. "Give me your shirt. And your pants. You don't need them anyway—after this you're flying me back to the fortress."

"Maybe I shouldn't bother with clothes at all," he says with a wry smile. "I should be naked for you, always. Easier for shifting, too."

"When we're alone, yes. Always be naked. But humans shouldn't walk around naked in front of other couples, or in front of their offspring," I tell him firmly. I accept the clothes he hands me and fold them to form a cushion for my knees. "This will work, I think. I might still have bruises, but they'll be the good kind."

He sucks in a shuddering breath when I take him in my mouth. I run him deep into my throat, relishing the hot, salty flavor of his skin. He tastes like mellow sunshine, rich and smooth. Gently I cup his balls, and he moans, taking my head in both his hands. His claws have emerged, and they scrape lightly against my scalp.

He doesn't last long, sweet dragon. He's still so new to all this, so deeply affected by the most casual swirl of my tongue, the lightest sucking sensation. He comes with a cry that's lighter, younger, more broken than any sound I've heard from him. I let his cock pump everything down my throat. I love feeling his balls twitch and tighten against my palm.

Cautiously, carefully so as not to trigger my gag reflex, I ease him out of my mouth and throat. I can taste the salty, viscous creaminess of him on my tongue.

When I look up, his head is thrown back, his strong brown throat exposed, his chest heaving. When I move his hands from my head and rise, he staggers a little, unsteady with pleasure, his muscles still taut from the orgasm. It's one of the most dramatic and gorgeous scenes I've ever witnessed—him, standing naked and flushed in the center of the blackened landscape, with great stone ribs curving up behind him and the orange mist of his dissipating fire mingling with the blue light from the ash-roses. I wish the palace painter could see what I'm seeing, and capture it forever. The dragon prince, powerful and helpless, the moment after rapture.

But this moment will never be memorialized for anyone else. It is mine alone. Mine to cherish.

He wavers again, and when I steady him, he opens his eyes and grins, with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Come on, dragon," I say, patting his face. "Shift, and give me a ride back. And next time we have a private moment, I want your dragon tongue again."

His eyes light up. "Of course. Whatever you like."

When we reach the fortress, Kyreagan barely has time to dress himself again before Ashvelon and Thelise come to find us.

"It's done," Thelise says, with a weary smile. "I made Rahzien impervious. He can't harm himself or be harmed. Ash carved the spell in stone, so it will last your entire lifetime, Serylla. You won't have to fear death because of him."

"Wait." I grip her arm. "Not that I'm not grateful, but… am I understanding this correctly? You made our worst enemy unkillable?"

"To protect you," she says haughtily. "You're welcome."

"Fuck, Thelise."

"It was the only way!"

"Was it, though?" I wince. "What if Fortunix comes and saves him, carries him back to his kingdom?"

"Why would Fortunix do that? I should think he'd be happy that his dealings with the bastard are over."

"I don't know," I muse. "Kyreagan, what do you think?"

"I don't like it," Kyreagan says.

Thelise rolls her eyes. "Of course you don't, you big pessimistic grouch. But trust me—it was the best choice. Have I ever steered you wrong before? Don't answer that—let me rephrase—don't my plans always work out for the best?"

"For now," I say, and Kyreagan mutters, "That remains to be seen."

Thelise whirls to face Ashvelon, who's in human form, running a hand through his wavy blond hair. "Ash, my plans always work out wonderfully."

He clears his throat. "Is that a question, my darling?"

"It's a fucking statement."

"In that case, absolutely. You're always right."

"Like I said." She turns up her nose. "Now, let's go home. I need a drink."

"You and Serylla will ride on my back," Kyreagan says. "Ashvelon, you should remain here until I send someone to replace you. From now on, each dragon in the clan shall take a turn guarding this island for a few days at a time. We'll set up a rotation. That way, Rahzien can't devise a way to leave, and if anyone comes to fetch him, we'll know. And we can keep an eye on his health, provide him with supplies."

"Of course, my Prince," says Ashvelon.

Thelise looks unhappy, but she doesn't protest Kyreagan's arrangement. She kisses Ashvelon and whispers something in his ear that makes him flush bright red. After I retrieve my bag, she follows me to Kyreagan's side, and we mount one at a time, finding places to sit between his spikes.

With the extra weight, the flight to Ouroskelle is a struggle for Kyreagan. The air currents aren't as favorable, and I can hear the wind whistling through one of the holes in his wings. But he manages somehow, and at last we drop off Thelise in Ashvelon's cave. It's so dark and chilly that I urge Kyreagan to light a dyre-stone for her, which he does.

"You'll be alright?" I ask her.

"Of course! I'm worn out from the spell, anyway. Won't take me long to fall asleep. Enjoy your night, you two. "

She waves us off with a cheerful smile, but when we're aloft and I look back, I see her standing alone in the great cave, silhouetted against the orange glow of the dyre-stone, shoulders slumped and head bowed.

"You should send someone to take Ashvelon's place tomorrow," I tell Kyreagan. "She shouldn't be by herself too long."

"Hasn't she lived alone most of her life?" he asks.

"That's why she needs him."

He rumbles in agreement. "I'll send someone in the morning."

We glide through the night, a silent shadow between the mountains, and then Kyreagan pounds his huge wings in one last effort to lift us higher, higher, until we reach the ledge of his cave.

My heart nearly stops at the sight of a dragon curled in the cave entrance, but then the dragon lifts his slender neck and I recognize the flared ears and jaw spikes of Rothkuri.

He startles up, bowing his head. "My Prince! You've returned! Then the rescue was successful? Where are the others?"

"They're disposing of the remaining Vohrainian soldiers. Carrying them across the border and dropping them into their own land," Kyreagan says dryly. "Serylla and I had some other garbage to dispose of. But we're back now, and we're exhausted. It was a most unpleasant experience."

"The clan will want to hear all about it," says Rothkuri.

"Tomorrow." Kyreagan's voice is strained, weary. "I should speak with Varex before I sleep, though. Is he in his cave?"

Rothkuri averts his gaze. "I'm not sure. I'm sure he will be pleased to see you tomorrow. Let me wake Everelle, and we'll return to our cave."

He prowls over to the huge nest, where his plump mate lies on her side, one arm beneath her head. Nestled against her large, soft belly are two pale eggs. Our eggs are nestled in the grass not far away.

Rothkuri wakes Everelle by licking her rosy cheek, and she smiles up at him with such adoring joy that I want to squeal with happiness for the two of them. She tucks their eggs into a sling bag stuffed with grass, which she wears across the front of her body, then she mounts Rothkuri's neck.

"Such a clever idea, that bag," I tell her.

"I'll make you one, if you like."

"I would love that. Thank you for watching over our eggs."

"We are in your debt," says Kyreagan, bowing his head.

"No debt," Rothkuri replies. "We were pleased to do it."

Once they disappear into the night, Kyreagan and I move to the nest. He noses the eggs and I lay my palm against each of them.

And for a moment we don't speak. We are simply grateful.

Then Kyreagan lies down, circling the eggs with his body, and I lean against his belly. I nibble a little food from my bag and sip from my water flask, but I've been awake for far too long, and my eyes are drifting shut on their own. So I give in, and sink into sleep.