He has to still be in there.
I need to find a way to get through to Baelfire and pull him to the surface. I refuse to believe this beast has replaced him completely. When I defended myself against Kenzie, my holy magic forced her to shift. Could I do that with him?
Maybe. If I don’t get roasted first.
And if my body doesn’t shut down from the cold.
And if some other monster in these woods doesn’t chow down on me.
And if?—
The healthy stream of pessimism in my head is interrupted by the low croak of a raven. I realize several have gathered around me in the dimness of these frigid woods lit only by a quarter-waned moon. The largest of them hops up to perch directly on the shoulder of my unbroken arm.
I’m about to shoo the chicken of death away, irked that these things have been following me. Then I pause, recalling something I read while studying fae scrolls in the Nether years ago, before a particularly brutal examination meant to prepare me to enter the mortal realm one day.
Of all fowls of the mortal sky, most fateful are ravens, those dark heralds of prophecy. Ill omens they are, carrying upontheir midnight wings the souls of those to be harvested by she who reaps.
She who reaps.
Syntyche.
If any of that was true, and if I inherited abilities, then these birds are following me for a reason. Holding my breath for one moment, I listen to the cracking and groaning of trees in the distance as the giant golden dragon prowls through the woods in the wrong direction. It hisses and rumbles, clicking now and then in a strange reptilian way.
I whisper to the big raven on my shoulder, low enough that the dragon won’t catch it. “Lead my elemental to me.”
The raven immediately takes flight, winging toward the castle.
If Everett shows up, I’ll know I’m on to something with my demigoddess abilities. Until then, it’s just me and my shifter in these haunting woods surrounded by deadly dangers.
Normally, that would make for a fantastic date, but the throbbing in my head and arm remind me that he’s feral and a hundred percent capable of killing me right now. When a roar cuts through the woods again, I take advantage of the sound and rise slowly, slinking from tree to tree as I baby my broken arm.
I trained for years to have the light-footed stealth of a seasoned assassin, but I’m struggling. Sweat beads on my brow, and tuning out my broken bone is getting difficult. Shivers wrack my body as my hands and feet burn from the cold.
And then the wind changes, carrying my scent in exactly the wrong direction. Baelfire’s dragon roars immediately, and I hear trees breaking as it charges after me.
“Fuck you, too, Pheli,” I mutter at the god of the wind.
Thunder rumbles in the wintry night sky. I can only assume it’s laughter, so I flip it off.
Turning to face the oncoming beast, I brace myself. The knife in my good hand elongates into scythe form just as the dragon crashes through the last cluster of twisted trees, all gleaming scales and golden magnificence.
The dragon’s snarl is muffled thanks to the dead manticore clamped between its jaws. Flinging the limp creature aside, the dragon stalks forward slowly, golden eyes trained on me. Smoke rises from its nostrils, its tail slithers from side to side, and its teeth are bared in warning.
“Such a deadly beast. I’ve missed my dragon,” I tell it.
And I mean it. I’ll confess to loving Baelfire and his dragon—but not this feral version of it. This isn’t him. It isn’t even reacting to my words as its mad, slitted gaze follows my every move.
When I take one step back, the beast growls and snorts a burst of royal blue fire into the air in warning.
Everything is swaying around me, but I stare up at the dragon. “I want Baelfire.”
It makes that strange clicking sound in its throat again, its wings unfolding as if to look more intimidating as it stalks me.
“I know he’s still in there.”
It’s a bluff. I don’t know for sure—not when this monster is hunting me like I’m its next dinner, and there isn’t even the tiniest spark of understanding in its eyes. But if Baelfire still exists anywhere in that draconic head, I’ll find a way to get through to him. I need him to fight for me the way I’m fighting for him.
“Baelfire,” I whisper. “I need my mate.”
