This one has a right to be here, she is welcome. And you will show her welcome, just as each of you received upon your own arrival here, protected by my asylum.
As the massive black Dragon-matron spoke, Layla realized the rest of the Binds were coming to stillness all around. As even the Phoenix settled to perches up on the canyon’s rim, it became clear the Binds were standing down to the two who protected Layla and Heathren – and Layla felt Heathren at last begin to ease. The screaming intensity of his light rolled back, and a whine in her ears from his power diminished, though he kept his wings spread in warning as a brisk wind of ether surged from him. But the Binds made no further move against Layla and Heathren, instead watching them curiously now as the protective duo coiled around them. Many had swirled back down to human, taking up garments shed when they’d shifted and began to dress.
Though they still kept wary eyes on the intruders.
At last, the battle seemed to be over. As the silence stretched, the black Dragon-matron began to shift down to human, as did her ice-white companion. Both completed their shifts in the smoothest change Layla had ever seen, rippling with waves of light until they had completed their transformation in moments. Waving a hand, each manifested clothing out of nothing, and Layla felt Heathren startle at that as he slowly lowered himself and Layla down until their feet touched the ground.
Standing before Layla and Heathren now were a man and a woman – she as darkly beautiful as he was robustly white. Draped in a saffron and red Grecian gown with a one-shoulder clasp that was at least a few thousand years out-of-date, the woman’s sleeveless dress was embroidered with gold and red geodesic designs, the fetching drape showing her slim yet deeply fit body. With creamy dark caramel skin, her irises were a glorious gold like her Dragon, her long black hair glossy beneath the desert sun with a hint of gold reflection like her scales. Elegantly tall, she looked like an African supermodel as she stared Layla and the Fallen Ephilohim down with deep intelligence.
“The last Royal Dragon Bind comes to us, protected by angels.”
Power swirled from the Dragon-matron, and Layla had an impression of tens of thousands of years though she looked no more than thirty-five. She had every kind of magic, Layla felt, as Siren-seas called Layla and Desert winds caressed her, and powerful Crystal magic shuddered the roots of the world beneath their feet. Layla even felt the ephemeral touch of the ether caress her as the woman smiled, then set a hand to her heart.
“Welcome, Layla Price. I am Nadia Orodi of the Desert Dragons of Nubia.” She spoke in a voice that flowed with wind and fire as her glorious golden eyes pinned Layla. “Forgive our harsh welcome, but you rather surprised us, arriving as you did with your angelic escort straight into the middle of our very well-protected city here at Petra in the Twilight Realm. All those you see around you are Royal Dragon Binds, like you. And all are here under my protection – kept safe from the man you now oppose.”
“Nadia?” Layla blinked as Heathren took a more genial but still protective stance behind her, finally sliding his silver sword back into its sheath over his shoulder. Layla knew that name from Hunter’s stories of his original Bound trio – and blinked in surprise as she recalled this woman’s countenance from memories she had once shared with Hunter in Manarola. “You’re Hunter’s Nadia? And all these Dragons… are Royal Dragon Binds in hiding from him?”
“I am. And these are.” The woman nodded graciously, though the bright smile in her eyes became sad. “Everyone you see here was at one time or another of deep interest to Orrin and his mad ways. Over time, they have come to me, to protect them from a life of constantly running from his pursuit. Long ago, I was one of Orrin’s two initial mates, and a rival to his power. I am his rival still, and it has been many tens of thousands of years since I had any affection for him. But I hold a wish of love in my heart for him still… that he come to peace at the end of his days.”
“Orrin? Do you mean Hunter?” Layla blinked again, as more of the Dragons around them swirled back down to human and either stood naked or began dressing in their shed garments. Though some remained in their tremendous beast-forms, watching Layla with veiled hostility as if she were a puppet of Hunter’s. Clearly, their mistrust had been earned over millennia, and now Layla understood why she and Heathren had received such a brutal welcome.
“The Hunter had a name, once.” A glimmer of dire humor shone in Nadia’s eyes as she watched Layla with her perfect composure. “Orrin Alumedi was a beautiful man before he lost all memory of himself and his true origins, including his tribe-given name. But now that you have arrived, albeit through vastly unexpected means, I understand we have much to speak of. You and I… and someone else who I believe would very much like to be acquainted with you.”
As Nadia spoke, a clever glimmer came into her eyes. Turning, she gestured to the tall, robust Ice Dragon man who had helped her protect Layla and Heathren. Watching Layla with his dark brows knit, the man was immensely tall with a hardy yet well-honed physique that reminded Layla of Rhennic. With thick silver-white hair combed back from his high forehead, his dark brows frowned over piercing jade-green eyes the color of whitewater rivers, set over strong high cheekbones and a tree-cracking jaw.
Despite the warm desert day, he had created for himself tall buckled leather boots, a fur-trimmed jerkin and leather trousers that fit his muscled body like water. A white silk shirt was underneath his jerkin, deeply engraved silver bracers at both wrists and a silver torque around his neck. The Ice Dragon Bind was beautiful; strong, robust, and with a depth of piercing quietude that Layla felt right to her bones. As she took him in, she suddenly knew without a thought who this was.
And stepped forward out of Heathren’s protection to greet him.
“Father.” Layla’s breath was hardly audible, but her utterance startled the Royal Dragon Binds around her as they understood what they were witnessing.
“My daughter.” The big Ice Dragon man breathed back, his voice immense like boulders cracking downhill even in its quiet utterance. “My beautiful, only daughter.”
“Layla.” Layla informed him, and at last she saw him smile.
“Layla.” He rumbled softly, awe in his gaze.
And then he laughed.
Suddenly, he was sweeping forward. Before Layla knew it, she had been gathered right into his massive arms and he was hugging her with bone-cracking joy. He did not growl, but his Dragon’s energy was so vast as he embraced Layla that she suddenly felt like she’d been swallowed by the sky as it roared King Ruslan Aristov’s delight to the desert for him. Layla found herself hugging him hard, then laughed with surprise as he hefted her up and spun her around. As he set her back on her feet, smiling the most incredible smile she’d ever seen, his bright jade eyes flashed a pure whitewater-green.
Astonishing in their compelling magnificence.
“Goddesses of the ice!” Ruslan Aristov rumbled quietly as he gripped Layla by the shoulders, his entire being flooded with power and joy so fathomless Layla couldn’t help but be entirely caught in it. “Such a beautiful girl you are! Just like your mother Mimi – a fireball of a drakaina, and infinitely lovely. She almost wrangled me, that one. She almost got me to stray from my life of evasion these past thousands of years. Almost.”
“Evasion?” Layla asked, beaming with pleasure to feel her father’s deeply robust and joyful nature, though she still recalled he’d been a tyrant years ago.
“Evading Hunter. And me.” Heathren had spoken up now as he watched the big Russian Ice Dragon, something dire but also impressed in his pale silver eyes. With a deep chuckle, King Ruslan turned to Heathren, a calculating but vastly amused look on his robustly elegant face now. His green eyes flashed again as he stuck out his hand, and with a lift of one eyebrow, Heathren clasped it.
“Heathren Merkami, we meet at last.” King Ruslan chuckled quietly, though it was part humor and part subtle menace, Layla could feel now as his Dragon’s massive energy curled around their group. “You tracked me well all these years, my friend – part of me’s not surprised it is you who delivers my daughter here now. You almost got me a time or two. But old Ice Dragons have many tricks up their scales, don’t they?”
“Almost as many as Fallen Ephilohim have in our wings.” Heathren spoke with another lifted eyebrow, and Layla felt a subtle exchange pass between the two men as they gripped wrists. It was like a shuddering wave of etheric magic rushed between them, swirling around each other to see who was the better warrior. With a stunned blink, Layla felt that rush come to an impasse between them as if neither could best the other’s power, before both allowed their subtle contest to flow away.
“Formidable as ever.” King Ruslan spoke softly, watching Heathren with a deep respect in his calculating gaze now. It was then that Layla saw it – the Dragon King in her father. Strong like mountains, he was not just compelling but also subtle, with the immense joy of Rhennic when he wanted to show it. It was a tremendous combination, and Layla suddenly saw why Dragons of a warrior’s nature would have been so inspired by him long ago.
And wished to join his Bind.
“Evasive as ever.” Heathren spoke now as they released hands, and King Ruslan chuckled.
