I meet her eyes intensely, and we understand one another without words.
“We all return from death changed. I wanted my heart changed, to have no memory of those feelings, no trace of the pain and loss.”
“And that didn’t happen.”
I shake my head but don’t let my eyes off her. “No. I feel it more acutely than before. Then there’s the so-called ‘gift’ I attained in the change of death. I don’t share this with the others, but the visions are simply any random event in someone’s past. I see pain, loss, love’s demise—the broken pieces carried within the heart and hovering at the surface upon my touch. And with ‘seeing’ their pain comes feeling their pain magnified, every incident a reminder of my own.”
“Why are you telling me this now? You know I wouldn’t have asked you about something so … so personal, so painful.”
She offers a hug, and I accept it because it’s Cait, and I’ve grown accustomed to her affection, letting her hold on longer than usual, making no remarks about her hen-pecking a bunch of dragons older than dirt.
“You are our North Star, Cait. Dragons, we are often egotistical, prideful beasts, yet I will follow you anywhere, do anything for you. I refuse to let you give up when you feel small and broken by the world. Even as an eternal, such things will happen, and I swear to you I will never be above leaning down to be the shoulder you cry on or the arm you lean on.” Nipping at her chin with my thumb, I give her a ‘Snowflake only’ grin. “I know why you ran to me, Cait. We are kindred spirits. We are the broken ones. Say the word. Something. Anything. Anytime. I will come running.”
“Thank you, Claaron.” She kisses my cheek, and I do love her. … And exactly who I am to her.
“You’re welcome, of course … but do me a favor.” She meets my smirk with a quirked brow. “Do not lose your way because of temporary pain’s confusion. Dig deep in the pain, and find the strength to know what path you must take. Perhaps Dante is your destiny, but he might not be. In our concept of time, you are so very young, Cait. We adore you, even now, before your transition from human to eternal is complete, before you fully understand what it means to be our North Star, but we do not expect that you will not make mistakes. If we did, we’d have no excuse for the sometimes stupid things we do at our ages.”
Chapter 19
*Theo*
My brother prefers the cool of the nights, the rise of the silver moon to the sun’s fiery light at dawn.
His destiny’s path brought him to Corrin under a full moon. How fitting one passed two nights ago as we prepare to return their souls’ hollow vessels into ash.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
We are the stars of the universe. We carry their ashes and dust within us, our souls giving them light long after their own diminished.
Cait stands nearer the pyre, speaking softly with Ero, the two having made peace after her enmity toward him earlier. He is a strong ally among the High Realm, and regardless of his advisement, whom Cait should hold an eternal bond with, dragons cannot be her only Earthen Realm allies, nor can the Goddess and Dante be her lone support among the deities.
Her starlight will outshine them all, but I fear those who will seek to snuff it out … or make it their own. I cannot protect her among their realm. No dragon can.
In the hours since telling Cait he would let her go, Dante has favored solitude or the company of his family, accepting little intrusion from Ero, and now gathers a short distance away with his son, grandson, and granddaughter. Despite Dante’s presence, it is his son’s arms around the clan, Cedric providing strength as their foundation. Father and son at his sides, daughter weeping into his chest, Cedric is the rock of solace, and they mourn as one.
Yet the Dracopraesi are unified even in our division, a small scattered sea of white under the rising moon. Some in simple white shirts, others in white suits, Jai’s black linen pants traded for white and his tattoos glowing eerily pale tonight. Claaron approaches as stylish as ever, corduroy pants and cable-knit sweater, no doubt handmade in Ireland, a wool trench coat, and suede chukkas; head-to-toe white.
“I certainly hope you are well hydrated, choosing to dress as you do, brother. Oliver would not appreciate a forced shift in the midst of such a quiet ceremony.”
Standing beside me, looking out over the scene, he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, a habit I believe he’s picked up from me. “This feels so wrong, impossible. I wish for the moment someone would wake me, and I find it’s a nightmare, that there is no need for letting go.”
“Oliver will return.” I stare into the sky and remind myself soon enough; my brother will return. We will once more discuss the stars for hours, the constellations known to humans now, those the Fae named millennia before, and those we’ve created in the patterns we see time and time again when alone.
I hope. And I pray to the Goddess my brother’s changes will be insignificant.
“I do not mean Oliver.” Claaron’s voice falls soft as he glances toward Clan Corrigan. “Corrin made his atonement, turned his soul further from the darkness than I’ve witnessed in my time. Can you stand here and tell me they do not deserve, the friend you call closest outside your brothers does not deserve, holding onto the man Corrin became?”
“They do, and they will. In the end, he was a man worthy of a heart’s memory.” Ero gestures to me, and I nod in reply. “But it was his journey’s end, and that we cannot change.” Taking a step toward Dante, I turn to my brother again. “Dragons should not keep one foot in the past, Claaron, holding onto what we cannot change. Our paths lie with greater purpose, a responsibility to that which lay ahead, destinies and paths not our own. Events which have come and gone are well out of our control and must be let go.”
He wears pity like a hideous carnival mask, unrecognizable and disturbing. “And is that what you’re doing, Theo?”
“We aren’t speaking of Cait. … Not now.” I walk away; thankful the clan has disentangled from their moment of solidarity I did not wish to interrupt. “Dante, it is time.”
In a heaving sigh, he spins on his heel, and I find his forehead resting against my chest, his fingers clutching my shirt. “You know in my heart, you are a brother to me, Theo. Do you not?”
Three thousand years. Contempt fading to indifference, developing to friendship, forging something neither of us sought. And this place we find ourselves now is none different. We intended not to do this to one another.
I place a hand on his head, curling my fingers as I close my eyes. “Yes. I know. … And among all my brothers, you are the only one I chose.”
He nods, lifting his face from my jacket, eyes meeting mine. “I beg of your forgiveness. Many miles behind us and many miles yet we must traverse, let us walk alongside one another o’er the rough road which lie ahead, for I have not the strength to venture this way alone.”
“You need not beg anything of me.” With my hand on his shoulder, we cross the yard, facing the funeral pyre, and prepare to let go.
*Cait*
I don’t need to look to know who’s walked up beside me, one of them taking a place at each side as if we belong together. Reaching to take their hands in mine, I know we do, somehow, though I’m not sure any of us understands yet.
Simply nodding, Ero seems to approve of the way we cling to one another. Or maybe he knows more than he’s said, though this God of Compassion has been occupied being just what he claimed to be.
But this compassionate stranger, god or not, can’t fix this for me.
“You’re positive this is safe?” I question Theo in a whisper, glancing toward the trees. If the elves could do this to Oliver …
“Yes. They have strict and longstanding traditions in honoring their great fallen leaders. A reprieve of three nights. No more. No less.”
Moving away from us, Ero stands in front of the carefully constructed funeral pyre, and I want to keep my eyes on him, not look at the gently wrapped bodies of Oliver and Corrin. White cloth
covers them head-to-toe, but it can’t hide Oliver’s size. It can’t hide the memory of their faces and that I know which familiar face lies nearest me, so ceremoniously covered.
Ero’s gentle voice draws my eyes back away from Oliver as he begins. “We come together tonight in mourning and in loss.” I squeeze Theo and Dante’s hands tighter, needing us to be together, united in this moment. “In loss we find pain, but together we find solace and peace. Just as the Zega brings all things together in peaceable coexistence, may your hearts find peace in the knowledge that those who pass on to the Sacred Lands remain with you. Echoes of their souls bring you peace in the running streams, peace in the blowing winds, peace in the quiet valleys, peace in the brilliant stars, and the deepest peace—most infinite peace—the Zega binds all souls together, so that you may never lose hold of those you love. Let go of your pain.”
I recognize Runa’s soft crying behind us. As stoically distraught as the dragons are over Oliver’s death, the Corrigan clan has been devastated and inconsolable in the wake of losing their son, their brother … and their grandson.
“Dante, do you have a few words on behalf of your clan, as patriarch?” Ero asks, reminding me of the wall between Dante’s private and public relationship with Clan Corrigan, how desperately he tries protecting them.
He moves closer to me, intertwining his fingers with mine, voice barely more than a whisper in his response. “No. Cedric should speak. He was everything to Corrin.”
As Cedric slowly walks forward, eyes downcast, I turn to Dante, keeping the words as quiet and close to his ear as possible. “You were more to him than you let yourself believe.”
“Perhaps,” he responds with a sigh. Closing his eyes, he hangs his head, and I know it’s no longer disappointment in Corrin but in himself. “I do wish to believe that could be true.”
Clearing his throat, Cedric takes a moment to compose himself before speaking, running his fingers through his reddish-brown hair, and even in the low light of the moon and stars, I can see the creases and lines in his face, the tears on his cheeks. It’s difficult to see a vampire when looking at Cedric Corrigan, but not at all difficult to see a man who’s lived many years trying to live them right, dedicating himself to his family, and hoping he hasn’t failed on either count.
“My son did not wish to die pitied as an invalid, sick and wasting away on his deathbed. Although I selfishly wished for farewells and some brief moment to speak those things every father wants their children to know they feel for them before they cannot say them again, Corrin died as he wanted. He died a warrior. He died with honor. He died for a noble cause he believed worthy of his own life.” Cedric turns to look at me with a pained smile on his face, holding his gaze on me as he speaks again. “I can accept his death because of that. I find peace in my heart knowing death took him in the manner he wished to meet it.”
Taking a deep breath, I can’t wipe away my own tears with my hands clenched tightly by the men beside me. But the gentle touch of his warm hand, the slightly rough texture of his thumb grazing across my cheek, leaves me calmer as I exhale, and Theo pulls at my chin until I meet his intense green eyes.
“You hold no blame for his death. There is no guilt to bear, Cait. You gave him a gift he held no hope to receive until you willingly offered acceptance he had not earned.”
I turn away, looking to Cedric again, replying quietly. “I think he earned it.”
“This morning, I spent some time in Corrin’s room, wanting to feel near him, and I found a handwritten journal he kept. My son had a fondness for poetry, and one of the last entries was simply an anonymous poem. Along with it, he wrote a note that he hoped one day his family would read it and gain some measure of comfort. … I believe we all could.”
With his perfect vampire memory, he doesn’t need a piece of paper to read the words from. He stands, eyes closed, face turned to the starlit sky and speaks in a clear yet gentle voice. “‘When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me, I want no rites in a gloom-filled room. Why cry for a soul set free? Miss me a little but not for long and not with your head bowed low. Remember the love that once we shared. Miss me, but let me go. For this is a journey we must all take, and each must go alone.’” Cedric returns to face the funeral pyre, looking directly to Corrin’s wrapped body before softly adding, “Is breá liom tú, mo leanbh, agus beidh tú isteach in am.”
Dante makes a choking sound, lets go of my hand and covers his face. Evan and Runa are at his sides immediately, Cedric quickly joining, the clan once again turning in on themselves for support.
Theo pulls me away a few steps, moving closer toward Ero, nearer the funeral pyre, while I look up to question him silently, at a complete loss for what just happened.
“That was Irish for ‘I love you, my child, and will join you in time.’” My dragon answers, his tone solemn, voice low, eyes saddened as he glances over to his friend. “This is the beginning. Dante’s family is not eternal like him. He knows, in time, they will all pass beyond his reach, and he is powerless to prevent it.”
Ero touches my arm, capturing my attention, and with a quick glance at the moon above, he nods. “It is time.”
At Theo’s side, it is our turn to approach the funeral pyre, the other dragons surrounding us, no one speaking a word. Theo steps behind me, and Ero takes his place, though he doesn’t touch me this time, and I wait in silence for him to begin. The God of Compassion leans over and whispers. “These are your dragons, my dear. It is within you.” With a soft, reassuring kiss by my ear, he walks away.
Heart racing, I can’t keep my eyes off the body I know belongs to Oliver. Or it did belong to him. He’ll come back. He’ll be the same yet different, but he will come back.
Theo’s deep voice fills the void of the night, strong and sure. “From ashes we rise. To ashes we return.”
Tears brimming and threatening to spill over, I close my eyes, clenching my fists, not wanting to break down any more than I already have. A wave of heat flows across my skin, and the crackling of a burning fire is the only sound I hear under the sky as smoke fills the air. Opening my eyes again, I gasp to see the ceremonial structure engulfed in flames and no one near it but me.
Prepared to demand an explanation from Theo, I spin around, finding all seven dragons dropped to one knee, heads bowed as Ero and Dante stand behind them. “That is just a glimpse of your power, a fraction of your destiny, my dear.” Ero’s tone is soft and sincere, Dante nodding in agreement before they rejoin the clan.
One-by-one, the dragons rise to their feet, silently shimmering, shifting, and taking to the air with roars and blazing streams of fire; Falcon, Agtos, Jai, Clifford, Liam, Claaron … and finally Theo stands. His eyes meet mine as he steps back, making room to shift into his massive natural dragon form. “You are our North Star, Cait. This is first of many things through which you will lead us.”
Theo’s eyes never leave mine, changing from human to dragon, until he launches into the night sky, emerald body eclipsing the moon for a moment, and of the deafening roars filling the night from seven dragons soaring above me, I only know his.
Chapter 20
*Cait*
“After ten years, I’m not sure what I’ll do if Cedric doesn’t take the throne.” Jennifer pushes the swing a bit, and I wrap my coat around me tighter, pull my knees in closer as the brisk night air stings my face, and keep my eyes on the fire still burning. “It’s hard to believe how much has changed in the past month.”
Sharing a sad smile between us, I nod. “Yeah. I think I have a good idea what you mean. One day I was alone, and within a week, Dragons … and Dante surrounded me. They became my family so unexpectedly; even Corrin did in a way, I suppose. But I didn’t let myself really believe this could happen, or maybe I convinced myself it couldn’t happen to someone like Oliver, that it would be someone else if it did during this war. It would be one of them less close to me, but honestly, who would that be?”
She winds her gl
ove-covered fingers around the fringe on her scarf and exhales slowly. “Well, if we could see those things coming, I guess we could prepare ourselves or maybe find a way to stop it, but that’s not the way life works, so we make do.” There’s a heavy pause, and though I can’t hear them, I know somewhere nearby, Falcon stands watch, just in case. “Assuming Cedric takes the throne, I’ll miss the dragons, but there will definitely be worthwhile changes in the Royal Offices.”
“You were the one who kept working for him all that time. He couldn’t have been that bad.” I’m quick to defend Corrin’s memory, perhaps because I believe Dante deserves it, or because I saw him in his last moments. I know he truly had good in him.
“I don’t mean Corrin.” Jennifer shakes her head and sighs. “Some of his laws were certainly misguided. Old-fashioned doesn’t even come close to describing a twenty-five-hundred-year-old vampire’s sexist mentality. But Corrin didn’t scare me. I mean, I knew he could kill me if he wanted, that he was a vampire complete with fangs, a hunger for blood, and supernatural strength, speed, and everything lethal. He wasn’t an indiscriminate killer though.”
The darkened figure of Ero heading our direction stops her, and she stands, quietly finishing before he reaches us. “Less than a year after my promotion from the public relations office to Secretary to the King, my parents were both killed in a home invasion. No one was ever charged for the crime, but two of the elves on the guard just disappeared, and the Pendragons and the Corrigans seemed satisfied some level of justice had been served. … I always suspected Z had a hand in it, protecting sovereign secrets, minimizing potential security leaks from me.” She faces me once more as Ero nears. “I stayed because the clan toed the line between what was professional and what was personal in our relationship. They kept me close. They kept me safe. That’s hard for most women to find in this world.”