“I wish that was a promise you had the power to keep,” Dyfri whispers as his arms lift to wrap around my back.
My heart thuds against my ribcage. My soul flares, burning brighter than a beacon.
Dyfri is hugging me back. Properly, for the first time ever. Not just accepting my embrace but returning it, his arms strong and sure around me, holding me as tightly as I’m holding him. This is more than enough to give me the strength to fight worlds to keep my promise.
“Hey, don’t underestimate me,” I say softly.
I brush my lips over the top of his head, tasting the silk of his hair and breathing in his scent.
“Okay,” Dyfri says quietly, sounding small and young, yet weary far beyond his years.
It is making me even more determined to keep my vow. Dyfri will be protected. He will be happy. I don’t care what it costs, what I have to sacrifice, what battles I have to fight.
Whatever it takes, whatever price I have to pay. Even if it is the last thing I do.
It’s going to happen.
Dyfri will be safe.
Chapter thirty
Dyfri
This dragon rider castle feels like stepping into ancient human history. The stone walls around us are thick enough to withstand a siege, carved from the living rock of the Welsh mountains centuries ago. Each block fits so perfectly with its neighbours that I can barely make out the joints, a testament to craftsmanship that puts modern human construction to shame. The air itself feels heavy with age and magic, pressing against my skin like a tangible presence.
Deep within the castle, in this windowless chamber lit by floating orbs of magelight, I can almost forget the modern human world exists at all. The orbs cast dancing shadows across walls covered in carved runes and symbols, some so old I can barely recognise their meaning. Others glow faintly with their own inner light, responding to the magical energies that permeate this place.
Jack stands close beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. After this morning’s revelations, after the way he held me and promised to protect me, I’m hyperaware of every inch of space between us. The memory of his fierce declaration, his willingness to give up everything for my safety, sits in my chest like awarm ember that threatens to ignite into something larger and more dangerous.
I can smell his soap, something clean and masculine that speaks of the human world I’m still learning to navigate. When he shifts his weight, the fabric of his shirt rustles softly, and I have to resist the urge to move closer still. There’s something addictive about his presence, something that makes me feel more grounded and more unsettled all at once.
Cai lounges against the stone table with casual grace, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. Leading the dragon riders is aging him, carving lines around his eyes that speak of difficult decisions and harder compromises. The weight of leadership sits differently on him than royal status ever did on me. He carries his authority like a burden he’s still learning to bear.
His two husbands flank him like twin guardians, but there’s nothing subservient in their positioning. They stand as equals, partners in every sense. Kirby with his waist-length red hair gleaming like fire in the magical light, every inch the powerful mage whose strength could reshape nations. Harlen all muscle and dark curls and easy grins, but I can see the sharp intelligence in his dark eyes. These men chose each other, fought for each other, built something together that defied prophecy.
Another young dragon rider, barely more than a boy really, sits cross-legged on the floor beside the most unusual person in the room. His earnest face is creased with concentration as he tries to bridge the gap between languages that were never meant to communicate.
I know of the tylwyth, of course. Everyone in the fey courts knows what we did to them, though it’s notsomething we discuss in polite company. It’s filed away with all the other necessary cruelties, the prices paid for fey advancement.
Eerie is smaller than I expected. Short and slight, with amethyst eyes that seem to hold depths I can’t fathom. There’s something ethereal about him, something that speaks of wide skies and freedom that was stolen away. His shoulder-length dark hair is woven into intricate beaded braids that catch the light when he moves his head, each one a work of art that speaks of a culture I helped destroy. When he speaks, the sounds that emerge are nothing like any language I’ve ever heard. Musical and strange, all trills and whistles and harmonics that seem to resonate in my bones.
The young rider translates his words into halting English, his brow furrowed with concentration as he struggles to convey concepts that clearly don’t translate well. “He says the anchor points must be set at precise celestial alignments. The mathematics are... complex.”
I watch Eerie’s hands as he gestures, trying to convey concepts that clearly don’t translate well. There’s something graceful about his movements, something that speaks of a people who were meant to soar. The wings folded against his back twitch occasionally, as if responding to thoughts of flight. I wonder if he dreams of open skies, if being trapped on this world feels like a cage even when he’s helping to seal it away from further invasion.
The guilt surges to a level that hits me like a physical blow, so sudden and sharp that I have to lock my knees to stay upright.
This being should hate me. Should spit in my face and refuse to be near anyone of fey blood. His people were enslaved, tortured, broken for our magical advancement. I remember the reports. Cold descriptions of experiments, of information extracted through methods I didn’t want to think about too closely. Everything I know about portal magic was built on the suffering of Eerie’s people.
The knowledge that my own education, my own power, was paid for in tylwyth blood makes my stomach churn. How many of his people died screaming so that I could learn to step between worlds? How many wings were clipped, how many voices silenced, so that the fey could master the magic that made us unstoppable?
Yet here he sits, patiently explaining how to seal Earth away from my people forever. Trusting me with knowledge that could save this world from fey interference. The trust in those amethyst eyes is devastating.
All the more so because of how much I need it. There is absolutely no point in sending my people home, and destroying the existing portals, if the fey can simply turn around and create new ones.
“The plan requires perfect coordination to cover all the anchor points,” the young rider continues, struggling to keep up with Eerie’s rapid speech. “All the tylwyth refugees on Earth, working with all the dragon riders simultaneously. Miss the timing by even minutes and the whole thing fails.”
I lean forward, forcing myself to focus on the tactical implications rather than my churning guilt. “How many anchor points are we talking about?”
