Not prepared for this discussion, I take a deep breath and try to maintain my calm. She’s going to find out sooner or later anyway, and if I want her to know me, this is critical information. “They killed my mother.” My throat tightens, as it does every time this subject comes up. “Because my mother loved my father, the light Elven king, and had a child with him, they killed her. Her sister is the Queen of Dark Elves, and in a fit of rage or jealousy, she murdered her.” Bitterness and hatred pour out of me. I hate knowing her sister still lives, but my father made me swear an oath I wouldn’t hunt her down or kill her.
Shocked, she blinks but doesn’t say anything for a minute. “I’m sorry. As someone whose mother was murdered, I can relate a bit, but not fully. While I want answers and vengeance for her death, I didn’t know her or have memories of her. Sometimes, it feels as if it happened to a friend or distant relative instead of my own mother. In my heart, Solandis is my mother.” She places a hand on my arm. “If you ever want to tell me stories about her, I’d be happy to listen.”
Stunned, I think about her words. I’d forgotten we had this in common. When I think of her mother, I think of Solandis as well. Would I have this bitterness if I’d had a mother figure? Have I let my father’s rage become my own? Deciding to think about it later, I motion to my staff. “Why don’t we spar for a second and get rid of some frustration?”
She cheers up immediately, and I laugh. It’s rare to see a woman who loves fighting as much as she does. “Let’s take it easy today, just light sparring. We can jump into it more tomorrow, okay?”
Instead of answering, she conjures her staff, takes a hard swing, and slams it into mine. The warrior in me responds, and the battle commences. I note tiny signs of weaknesses in her stance and grip, which we can tweak. She’s trained her whole life and she’s very, very good, but she’s also relatively young. I’ve commanded my father’s troops in battle many times over the last thousand plus years, and in my experience, the smallest of adjustments can change a warrior from trained to lethal. I’m looking forward to showing her. Stepping back, I hold a hand up.
“Let me prep the training room for tomorrow. We’ll meet here first to test you for Elven powers, then we’ll spar in that room. It’s more equipped to absorb magic than the garden,” I tell her. I return the staff to the tree. “Sound good?”
She gives me a determined expression and a nod, then stalks off, frustration apparent in every step. I blow out a deep breath. My gut says she’s Elven, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s only wishful thinking.
8
ARDEN
Ever since the meeting the other day, Valerian and I have been arguing almost nonstop about the dragons. I recognize he’s King of Dragons and knows his people better than I, but I also think it’s past time he fixed his relationship with them. Be a king and present for your people or step down and let someone else lead.
Of course, he says it’s more complicated than I realize, and in over a thousand years of ruling, the dragons have never asked to change the status quo. They like the way things stand. I remind him things have already changed because he has a new mate, who’s a witch.
We’ve settled into a truce—he’s going to think about it, and I’m going to back off and concentrate on the other stuff on my plate.
He’s getting ready to leave, and I follow him up to the roof. “Are you sure you don’t want me to create a portal? Or get Astor to create one?”
Dropping his bag on the ground, he pulls me into his arms. “It’s the dragon way to fly, and honestly, I don’t get to do it often enough, especially for long distances. Flying into my kingdom allows me to assess the people and land from above, and it gives the dragon council time to prepare for my arrival.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’ll text you every day and call when I’m able to get some privacy. Concentrate on your training with Fallon and let me know if anything sparks on your father’s powers, okay?” He swoops down and plants a hard, lingering kiss on my lips. “Take care, lass.”
Taking his face in my hands, I stare into his amber eyes, which are filled with frustration, and sigh. “Have I told you how often I think about you?” His eyes fill with interest. My hands caress his hard jaw, and I smile up at him. “Every day. Something you’ve said or done pops into my mind, and I can’t help but stop and smile. Whether we’re training, in bed, or arguing, I’m happy. And regardless of whether or not you are king, you’re mine, and I’ll miss you.” His eyes soften. “Be careful and watch your back.” Pulling his head down, I give him a deep kiss, savoring his pouty lips and wicked tongue, until I hear him groan. Then, I release him. “And that’s how you kiss your mate goodbye.”
He laughs and yanks me into his arms for a bone crushing hug. “I’ll remember that in the future.”
Releasing me, he backs up about a hundred feet. The air shimmers for a few seconds before he transforms, and suddenly, a massive black dragon stands in his place. Standing completely still, I take in every detail. I’ve never seen a dragon up close, and I’m utterly fascinated and, if I’m being honest, a bit terrified.
He’s huge, easily dwarfing me and the entire Abbey roof. Gigantic, leathery scales ranging from the size of my head to the size of a school bus cover his body, while ridges run the length of his spine. His tail is so long, it hangs off the side of the building.
While his body is big, it’s the teeth and eyes causing my throat to tighten in fear. He…smiles, and rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth appear, big enough to make me the equivalent of a French fry in size. Amber eyes stare intelligently at me, glowing like jewels, but instead of sexy, it feels predatory and hungry. Very, very hungry.
Every ounce of me wants to take a step back, but I lock myself into place.Never let a predator see your fear, I remind myself. As a predator himself, Vargas drilled this into me at a young age, but it’s tough when you’re standing in front of a freaking dragon.
Valerian, or the dragon, huffs, as if amused by my reaction, before suddenly launching into the air. I’m sure he’s having a good laugh at my expense and I’ll hear about this later. I watch him fly away until he’s a dark speck in the sky.
I’m going to miss that damn dragon. And our sparring. Damn it, I’ll probably worry about him too, even though he’s clearly a man who can take care of himself. Sighing, I turn around and find Astor waiting for me. Leaning against the wall, he’s dressed all in black, his torn jeans and T-shirt molded tightly to his defined body, and of course, he’s sporting a smirk.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, startled. I didn’t even hear him come up behind me.
“Hello, gorgeous. Valerian wanted someone here in case you reacted badly to his dragon. You teetered a bit, but thankfully, kept your cool,” he replies. “I knew you’d be fine. Not much seems to faze you, does it?”
I consider his comment. “I think it’s because I’ve been sheltered. Instead of seeing or experiencing bad things directly, I heard about them in a calm, controlled manner by either Vargas or Solandis. Even Callyx kept the gruesome details to himself.”And apparently, other important details, like assassination attempts, I think. “Plus, Vargas trained me to put aside emotions, assess the threat, then decide how to react.”
“Now, that’s an explanation I understand,” Astor states. His hand grasps mine, and he pulls me into the elevator. “One down, two to go. Daire and Theron are ready to leave too.”
When the elevator opens on the ground floor, Theron and Daire are dressed formally in impeccable suits, their presence commanding. Fallon is standing with them, dressed similar to Astor in dark jeans but with a black button-down. All three pairs of eyes turn toward me.
Theron assesses me quickly, then glances at Astor with a raised eyebrow.
“Cool as ice,” he tells Theron.
A gleam of satisfaction crosses all of their faces.
