Everyone stares at me. “Falcon?” Claaron growls the name. “You’d rather have him with Cait than one of us.” Any dragon would lay down his life for the North Star, but Claaron surely means one of us Cait trusts.
“Agtos and Jai are most capable of fighting a Blood Mage. Dante is impervious to the effects of such a creature’s magick. Falcon finds no distraction in emotional attachments.” My explanation is infallible. “I consider her needs and weight the dangers carefully. This is my decision.” I remain quiet on the matter of how she does not want me with her, though after what has happened, I do not want to be anywhere else. “Corrin will remain here as well to help keep watch outside. The rest of us will destroy those at the camp.”
“Only five of you going?” Agtos seems quite unsure of my decision. “You’re going natural, right, not human? I mean, four kindells isn’t like huge numbers, but that’s almost ten to one.”
Pausing for a moment, I look to Liam and Claaron before responding. “Ten to one … you’re right. It is rather unfairly balanced. Perhaps we should go in human form, at least make it challenging.” His mouth opens, but he fails to emit words. “Some of us have spent the past several millennia fighting in many battles, protecting wards, defending the innocent, Agtos. We have not remained in the safety of Avalon. Despite this, two of us going have never seen the touch of death. You think we are not skilled warriors?”
Dante sighs in exasperation, shaking his head, and crosses arms over his chest as if angered, though I believe it is a pain in his heart he guards. “What he thinks matters not, Theo. You are their leader. Go. Be done with it.”
My eyes on Agtos, I nod. “True, my old friend. Have everyone prepare, Liam. They already know of our position. Fighting form is dragon’s choice.”
“And Falcon? He won’t like sitting and waiting while we engage in battle.”
“He wants Cait’s approval more than he admits. Falcon will serve her well here and take pride in the position given.” If she refuses my protection, it lends some reassurance to know Falcon forgoes all emotional ties to perform his duties. I hold little fear she would carry any measure of love for him.
***
Spotting the camp below, I circle around, missing a few arrows shot into the air toward us. Certainly, they expected we would come for them. There’s no need for orders, my brothers knowing how to best their enemies. With a thunderous roar and a fireball blasting apart the center of their encampment, I careen into an open area among the trees.
Landing hard onto the ground, crushing three elves under my feet, I tear the head off another with a swipe of my talons, snapping up one more, swallowing him whole as he drops his spear, body limp. I hear Oliver’s threatening growls to my left, just before he sets a tree ablaze, the archer hidden within quite crispy as he plummets to the ground.
There is limited room in the area, too little for so many fully shifted dragons. Eyeing a sword beside its fallen warrior, I shift back to human form, swiftly capture a spear aimed at me, push it backward, skewer my attacker, and scoop the sword into my hand. It is lighter, smaller than my own, but serves its intended purpose well, proven in one smooth slice through the neck of a dagger-wielding elf as he approaches me. His head falls, rolling a few feet toward the edge of the trees, drawing my eyes to the archer taking aim at me from the shadows of a massive oak.
Ducking below the arrow directed at my chest, I manage to grab it out of the air, charging at its owner, memories of Cait’s reaction to my previous injury haunting my thoughts, finding myself caught off-guard when he pulls a spear out from behind the tree. I pivot away in a near-miss and swing the blade in my hand, relieving the weight of his torso from his legs.
I feel nothing from Cait and hope she remains safe, though I worry the effects of Dante’s blood have weakened my bond with her, that I may not be aware if danger lurks at the house when I am too far to protect her.
“Theo.” Oliver bellows, and I turn, finding one of the kindell far too close. He gashes my arm with his dagger, and in my rage, I drop the sword, tearing his head from his body barehanded. “Where was your head, Theo?” demands my brother, storming toward me, inspecting my already healing arm. “It surely was not present here in that moment. In fact, you’re quite fortunate to have it still attached. … Your arm will be fine.”
Growling, I pull away. “I know.” Teeth clenched, I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head, quite aware where my mind was. “Ensure this camp is cleared. Leave no one standing. I must return to the house.”
His sharp inhale and rigid tension show more obviously under the light weight of the green Henley he wears rather than his usual suits. “Is Cait alright?”
“I do not feel anything wrong from her.” I look around, seeing none of the others nearby, all gone after those enemies who scattered among the trees. “I am not alright, brother. My thoughts were on Cait, my head with her, not here.”
“You are her dragon, Theo. She is your ward. As complicated as this entire situation is, you cannot allow even Cait to dismiss you in that capacity.” He offers a smile and a quiet laugh. “She may very well beat you for demanding such a thing of her, but I gather you enjoy that more than you admit … more than I wish to hear of,” he adds warningly.
He earns a grin from me as I nod in understanding. “Cait is feisty. I love it, and I love her. I cannot lose her, Oliver.”
“Then your determination will prevail, of that I am confident. You will bring her back where she belongs.”
*Cait*
“You should not be alone. If Valoin returns, someone must be with you.” Falcon stands in the doorway of the formal living room where I thought I’d escaped the hovering and fussing over my safety.
His deep red eyes stay on me, unblinking, irritating in their intensity. I get enough of that from Theo and Dante. “What do you really want, Falcon? Why are you here?”
“Were you mine … my ward, I would not suffocate you the way he insists upon doing.”
His sudden appearance, looming behind the golden-haired dragon, makes my breath catch. As a backdrop to Falcon standing there, those drastically contrasting dark features, midnight black hair falling to his shoulders, the sight of my dragon stirs something inside, something I can’t control. “That’s not what he does. You’re wrong about him, Falcon.”
His jaw tightens, and I know he senses Theo behind him but says nothing, eyes staring straight ahead, over my head, past me. “You are dismissed.” Theo speaks in a growl more than words. “Join Corrin outside.” As soon as Falcon disappears from the doorway, I see the blood on my dragon’s arm.
There’s no time to react, before he’s in front of me, so close I feel the heat radiating from his body, inviting, enticing, and I want to push him away and hold onto him and scream how much I never want to see him again and that I never want him to leave me again. “What happened?” I manage to ask.
Theo’s hand is in my hair, fingers winding through, holding tight as he closes the space between us. “You, Cait, you happened. I cannot make you love me, and I will not force you to pretend you feel what you do not, but I am your dragon. You are my ward. As such, I am not meant to be away from you, to leave when you are in danger. Refuse me your bed as your lover, but you will not refuse me the place at your side as your dragon. Our bond requires it. It is where I belong as your dragon. Such refusal endangers us both.”
I touch the pinked skin where he’s already healed. “I still don’t remember loving you, Theo. You can’t imagine how this feels for me. I don’t … I don’t know if I can have you so close.”
“And you cannot imagine how this feels for me either.” He leans down, touching his forehead to mine, mouth so close to mine, I can taste his hot breath. “Do you remember this?” Our lips connect soft and tender. My blood screams to get him off me. My body begs for him to fill in every gap I don’t remember. “Do you?” His lips brush against mine as he speaks.
“It feels familiar.” Confusion between blood and body keeps me
from telling him everything, the way I recall his hands leaving no inch of my skin unexplored, his hair in my face as he hovered over me, intimately caressing my body with his. “The sensation seems right, but I’m missing what belongs in my heart.” I want to be angry with him for doing this, pushing me to remember what I don’t, what I’m afraid I can’t, but the only thing that comes are tears for what I’ve lost, the pieces missing from the puzzle.
His thumbs wipe away my tears, but he doesn’t move away. “We will find our normal, Cait. I promise. If we find a way to bring you back to me, or if we must learn to live with what we are now to each other, I promise we will find our normal.”
“I think I’ve heard you say that before.”
I can feel his smile against my lips, bringing a smile to my face. I don’t know why he’s happier hearing that, but I know Theo’s scent, and the touch of his hands do inexplicable things to me. “Just days ago, I told my Cait we would find our normal. It seems we have much searching to do, but know you are still here.” He holds my hand over his heart. “My Cait. Always my Cait.”
Chapter 11
*Cait*
Space, that’s what I need for fifteen minutes. … Hell, I’d settle for five minutes alone.
I tap my personal code into the Sky Panel on the wall next to my bed, and find some relaxing music, lying back on the plush down comforter to stare up at the wooden beamed ceiling. Evan and Runa’s house reminds me of a northern New Celtic Province bed and breakfast Uncle Thomas and I stayed at on a weekend trip when I was sixteen. It was the first time he let me drive his restored antique Jaguar—and the last time since he kept accusing me of stripping the gears when shifting, which I was.
Rolling over to face the door, I can feel him on the other side before he knocks, soft, hesitant, and I can imagine the multitude of reasons why he’s unsure if he should. “Come in, Dante.”
As he opens my door, the demigod peeks in with cautious hesitation. “Caitriona, I’m not interrupting am I?” I don’t know what he thinks he might be interrupting. “Were you resting?”
“No.” I sit up on the edge, gesturing for him to come in rather than stand in the doorway, questioning on which side of the door he should be. “Did you need something?”
He walks uneasily toward the window, looking out over the backyard, careful to avoid eye contact with me. “I need to apologize.” Dante’s eyes drop to the floor before turning to face me. “I learned relatively little of use from visiting my mother; however, she admits to setting us on this path. Please know I never intended …” His voice falters, and he looks back to the window. “Perhaps saying I am your friend is not completely truthful, Caitriona. Would a true friend take advantage of the situation in the way I did? I believe I have failed you … and Theo. We share such history, he and I, yet for a few moments, I allowed myself to indulge in my own selfish desires, succumbed to the jealousy I try, with great difficulty, to control, and lived in the façade of reality my blood painted into your memory.”
“If you’re looking for forgiveness, I’m trying, but I’m not quite there yet.” Part of me knows what a horrible double standard this is, to let Theo closer but keep Dante at arm’s length. “It’s not that I think you’re more guilty than he is, just that I can’t trust myself around you.”
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he nods. “Fair enough.”
“Goddess help me, I want to choke you whenever you say that, Dante.” I stand, balling my hands into fists, the anger rising again, too much of me begging to run to him, not enough wanting to run away.
Caught by surprise, he looks back to me. “Why?” The confusion on his face would be adorable if I weren’t so mad at him. “Your response is reasonable, logical, and perfectly fair given the circumstances. Why should I not accept it as such?”
“Why? I don’t know. Maybe because I’m a wreck over this, Theo’s torn apart, and you’re acting all calm and put together like this doesn’t bother you at all.” In my ranting, near screaming fit, I’ve moved closer to him, jumping when he grabs my wrists as I flail my arms in wild gestures.
He holds me, gentle but firm in his grasp, and in the relative quiet, with the music softly playing in the background, neither of us speaking as he steadies his breath, I can hear his heart hammering in his chest.
“Do not mistake my vast control, in an effort to ease the burden on you, as a sign I do not feel quite strongly regarding our situation, Caitriona.” Dante bites his lower lip, one of the most human things I could imagine him doing, and I grin. “You find this amusing?” His voice lowers. “Would you find it amusing to know how great a part of me hopes you never remember him? More than I care to admit, I want this. I want what you now feel for me to become the reality you treasure, the reality you want.”
“And how do you propose making me stop remembering the pieces I do?” I mean the question to come out strong, demanding an answer, but the sweetness of his breath, the nearness of his body causes exactly the reaction I wanted to avoid, overriding my intentions.
“It is completely within my power to make you forget those feelings for Theo and love only me, Caitriona.” His eyes hold mine, and I wonder if I should scream for help, but honestly, who’s going to stop Dante if he wants something? “You commanded me to make this real if you cannot remember that love, if what you had cannot be returned. I can. I could do it right this very moment.” His eyes fall to my lips briefly before meeting mine again. “However, that is not why I came to speak with you.” He releases me, turning to walk to the dresser, leaning against it, barely looking at me.
“Why did you come then?”
“We are quite tied together, Caitriona. My blood within you heightens my awareness of your emotions, your location, many things. Right now, you’re mildly hungry yet unwilling to eat because you feel nauseated by stress, extremely irritated by everything I just said, but rather aroused by my proximity. More than anything, you are afraid. That is why I have come.”
“Oh, really?” He’s either wrong or making a huge understatement by saying I’m irritated. “And what is it I’m so afraid of, Dante?”
“You know as well as I. Unfortunately, I cannot alleviate your fears, at least not in ways you would wish me to, but I can explain some things you do not understand. I often find knowledge to be quite powerful a tool in battling fear.” He begins pacing across the room, hands in his pockets again. “Although, I suppose telling you both Z and his brother want you dead fails to deliver any remotely helpful knowledge, given I’m sure you already knew that. I do know why, though.”
He stops, staring at a knot in the wooden floor and swipes a foot across it, the sole of his black oxford barely touching as he moves. A small whirlwind of leaves shoots into the air. With the flick of a wrist, they move into an orderly circle, and with a soft blow of his breath, they change from green to an array of autumn colors.
“Change. Elves live long lives, yet they do not approach change with the same attitude the eternal, or even the immortal do. They are set in their ways, ever concerned with matters of war and legacies, enduring in battles, leaving behind legends of their bloodline’s ferocity when facing their enemies. Why declare war against dragons, knowing they cannot defeat them? The simple answer? Why not? But truth be told, to kill one dragon brings untold notoriety to that legacy’s faction and a multitude of opportunities for regaling comrades of their ruthless method of felling such a beast in the name of vengeance, claiming a small measure of recompense for the death of thousands of their bloodlines in a war against the dragons many generations ago. Never mind that it was on my mother’s orders the Dracopraesi attacked or that the elves were annihilating countless villages of peaceful Fae who refused to hold a weapon in their own defense. They cannot see their actions; their own history brought that fate upon them. Elves have long memories of their histories yet shortsighted views toward the future. Quite bluntly, they fear change, and they hate dragons.”
Watching the leaves still flutter in the room, I step
back to the bed, dropping onto it, my body numb as I digest his words. “And I bring some sort of change for the dragons.”
“More or less, yes. Change with effects far beyond the Dracopraesi. You have already changed me, Caitriona. … And drastically changed my grandson in immeasurable ways for which I cannot begin to express my gratitude.” Dante falls silent, becoming occupied by taking the leaves from the air and tying their stems together into some sort of chain. “Z will lead this war until either his death or yours. Of course, he prefers it to be yours, ensuring the new era foretold of the dragons cannot come to fruition. He believes Corrin’s fall from power gives rise to you becoming queen, with the full complement of the Dracopraesi to do your bidding. The language in which the original Oracles of the Fae transcribed the prophecy long fell dead, none remaining in existence still fluent in the dialect passed from the deities to the Fae as the first people of this realm. Altu Prifaeryn is now spoken only among the High Realm, a language far predating even the Dracopraesi.”
I’m not sure what to say when he comes over to place the crown of leaves he’s created atop my head. “Somewhere along the way, the North Star became confused to some as the Queen of the Dragons. This is what Z fears: with their revered queen arisen, the ‘new era’ for the dragons would mean the decimation of the elven race, with all their dark, warring ways. However, his greatest mistake is not misinterpretation of ancient texts and prophesied destinies passed from deities to Oracles. His foolishness lay in believing that when his brother turned, Valoin remained the same brother Z knew before.”
“What do you mean turned?” I’m completely lost and know I’ve missed some crucial piece of information.