Taranis rubbed Cosimo's back. "It's not only up to youanymore. The boys are handling their dragons themselves, and their mates are helping them. Maybe you need to focus on letting others help you too."
"I know. I just…I don't know how," Cosimo replied. He looked up at the fae king. "You will look after Valentine?"
"Of course, but I have a feeling he's going to be looking after us instead. He's got power like I've never felt before. It's so deep, so…" Taranis struggled for the word and gave up. "It might be a good thing for him to be in Faerie for a while. It's safer for that kind of magic."
"Why are we spying?" Quinn whispered behind Valentine, making him jump. She gave him a wicked grin and poked him in the side. "What's going on?"
"Dad is apologizing for being a dick. Uncle Taran looks stressed," Valentine said, adding, "I didn't want to interrupt."
Quinn nodded and threaded her arm around Valentine's. "Taran is more than stressed. I love him to distraction, but he needs to go to Faerie to do his dragon king thing and go on a rampage or something. This beef with Midir was already pissing him off, but to take the baby of his knights? Midir has got some big, big balls going after Yelena, that's for damn sure."
Valentine forced his jaw to unclench. "I suppose that if he couldn't get to you, then Yelena would be his next weakest spot."
"She's not a weak spot. She's the strongest warrior he has, despite the innocence she sometimes projects. It makes me wonder how the hell she got taken in the first place," Quinn replied. Valentine had wondered that too. A hundred warriors, evenfaewarriors, were no match for two dragons. She tugged at his arm. "Come on, they look like they have finished their heart-to-heart."
They made their way downstairs, loud enough that Taranisand Cosimo were warned they were coming. Valentine accepted the hug from his father and tried not to worry about him.
"Try and get some sleep, old man. You're looking stressed," Valentine said, patting him on the back.
Cosimo frowned at him. "Maybe stop stressing me out then. Take care of yourself. Listen to the knights and don't do anything too reckless."
"I'll try," Valentine replied. That was about as much of a promise as he could make. He had fought for control his whole life, and now it was unraveling.
Perhaps Faeriewouldbe a better place for him when he finally lost what precious control he had left. The other dragons would be able to control him if he were in danger of hurting anyone. Better they do it than his family, who would hesitate to put him down. The knights wouldn't.
Valentine didn't hear the rest of the goodbyes, too lost in his own spiralling thoughts. He couldn't stop seeing that cursed cage hanging over the battlements. He pushed his power down as it burned his fingertips.
After magic had been restored, flowing more easily between the worlds, Taranis had created a portal to Mag Argatnél above the castle. Only he could open it, and only dragons could fly through it, which meant Owain was waiting for them outside in his dragon form. He was a deep russet color with a bulky body that matched his tank of a fae form.
It was going to be a short flight, so Valentine and Quinn had dressed in warm clothes instead of proper flying leathers and would ride clutched in the dragon's claws.
Owain held out his paw, and Valentine didn't hesitate to climb into it. He was becoming more and more anxious the longer they waited. He wanted to get Yelena out of that damn cage and tell her...he didn't know what. He would figure that out when he gother to safety. All he knew was that he would kill anyone who tried to stop him. His dragon growled in approval.
Owain lifted lightly into the air, deceptively graceful for a dragon of his size. Valentine tried not to wonder how it felt to be able to spread his wings and take off whenever he wanted to.
He was too close to giving in and giving up. He had wanted to ask Caelan about controlling the shift so he wouldn't lose his mind to his dragon. That was before he had found out they were Yelena.
He should have gone to her instead of writing that last letter. Maybe if he had, she wouldn't have ended up in a cage and missing a hand.
Cold wind and magic blasted Valentine as they crossed through the sky portal and into Faerie. The sudden changes cooled the rage burning through him, and he leaned closer to the gap in Owain's claws to see the landscape around him.
They were flying inside a ravine, jagged white and gray rock on either side of them. Owain maneuvered around the twisting paths with the ease of someone heading home.
Wards prickled against Valentine's skin, and then the famed mountain fortress of Mag Argatnél was in front of them. The sides of the mountain were carved with pillars, wide archways, and colossal dragons in a Celtic knot design. It had always reminded Valentine of Petra in Jordan, but with a fae twist and on a much, much larger scale.
Valentine knew it was more than just an aerie for the dragon kind—it was a home and safe haven. The mountain was full of halls, homes, marketplaces, and passages that also reminded him of a hive more than a city.
Owain landed on a platform leading into the high peak that was Taranis's palace. Valentine had only been there once before and hadn't seen much of the city, only a few chambers of thepalace. He'd had plans to explore it, but too much had been happening at home for him to feel like he could take the time off.
There was always something getting in the way, and now they had to prevent a war with Midir. Somedays it felt never-ending.
Valentine climbed out of Owain's claws and moved to help Quinn step down from Taranis's grip.
"The flying never gets old," she beamed. Her wine-red hair was wind-swept despite the braid she had tied it in. Her smile was so contagious that Valentine managed a grin back. "You stick with me, Val, and watch just how much Taranis's court squirms at the sight of me."
Valentine raised a brow. "They still haven't got used to you being mated?"
"They would have rather Taranis stayed single and miserable forever than be mated to a human," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.
