She sighs slowly, and she steps closer, her hands twisted in front of her. “So, I’ve been thinking, and I know you helped Eupraxia to be able to shift into a human form, and I was thinking. . .”
“What?” I snap. “Spit it out.”
“Could you make it so Hyperion could shift into a human form, too?” Her words tumble out so fast it takes me a second to make sense of them.
“Did Hyperion tell you to ask me?”
Coral blushes. “Not exactly, but when I asked him if he’d want to be able to do that, he said, ‘sure.’”
I walk around the bed and crouch until we’re at eye level. “I would rather be tied down by unbreakable, magical bands and left to be eaten by fire ants over a period of months than ever make it so Hyperion can shift into a human form.” I straighten. “Was that clear enough? Or should I say it in another way?”
Judging by the glare and the way she stomps out, I was clear.
I think she just wants to be able to be with Hyperion like you and I?—
I fling my hand out so fast I almost poke Azar in the eye. “I know what she wants, and I’m trying not to throw up in my mouth.”
His mouth closes, but he looks confused.
I can’t think of any way to explain it to him that he’ll understand. I know he sees Coral as a hatchling, and I know dragons have some sense of needing to be old enough, but I just can’t even talk about it with regard to Coral, who is a baby, and Hyperion, who is ninety gazillion years old. And the size of a whale that ate way too much plankton. And scaly. And terrifying.
Ugh.
Just, no.
Moments later, Gordon and Rufus, Asteria, and even the delightful Thunar have all gathered in front of our new residence. It’s almost worse than being interrupted by Coral.
You want us to fight the vanir for the humans. Thunar’s voice is flat, and he looks just as irritatingly smug as ever. I can’t help but think of the broken, shattered body that insisted Odin and Freya’s union would doom us all.
He wasn’t right.
Azar and Hyperion both came from the vanir and æsir joining.
He wasn’t entirely wrong, though.
The æsir left earth, and Freya was somehow caught here, guarding a bunch of tortured vanir. The humans forgot dragons were ever real while they suffered on another planet, unable to consume anything but their own. Unable to procreate.
I wouldn’t blame him for telling Odin I told you so.
I’m not sure he’d stay alive if he did, but then again, it was Freya who knocked him out last time, I’m virtually certain. Even so, I wish I had some idea what was going on inside that massive, idiotic brain of his. “Not long ago, you were telling me you missed war,” I say. “Are you opposed to it now?”
Thunar’s massive noggin shifts toward me slowly. I despise you. I haven’t hidden that.
“No,” I say. “You’re a horrible dragon, and an even worse brother, but you’ve never lied about what you want. My dead body’s right at the top of your Christmas list. You were very clear. I think I may even know why, now. I’ve been having dreams as Gullveig. It’s not me, exactly, but I think she might have been me in a prior life.”
I expect some kind of shock, but instead, he simply stares, tiny wisps of smoke escaping his nostrils. You’re more aware than I expected, and you’re more of a warrior and less of an idiot in this lifetime.
“Less of an idiot.” I bob my head. “I’m taking that as a compliment, coming from you. Does that mean you’ll fight alongside us?”
I’ll at least come with you to talk to these earth children who are asking for our help.
“They go by humans now,” I remind him.
I heard. He’s still staring at me. You call us dragons, not blessed or æsir, so I’ll keep using earth children.
I laugh. “But ‘dragons’ is more practical. It applies to you and the vanir both.”
Practical, and therefore less precise. Thunar tosses his head. Shall I open the portal?
