But the Shadow Master was already gone. Dissolved into darkness that dissipated like smoke, leaving only the faint smell of ozone and the feeling of being watched by someone who knew too much.
The remaining Dragons exchanged looks that carried centuries of shared history. They didn't like Morgrith's cryptic exit. Didn't trust whatever he was planning. But they also knew him well enough to recognize when he'd made a decision that couldn't be argued with.
"We fortify in the meantime," Davoren said finally. "Defensive perimeters. Communication networks. Early warning systems. If Morgrith's solution fails, we need to be ready for conventional assault."
"And we complete the bond consummations," Garruk added, his eyes finding me. "Immediately. Whatever psychological vulnerabilities exist, we need the magical stability of fully sealed bonds."
Sereis nodded. "Agreed. We reconvene in two weeks." His pale eyes swept across everyone. "Stay vigilant. Trust no one outside this room. And for the gods' sake, watch for signs of cult infiltration."
One by one, the Dragons shifted, then carried their mates away. prepared to leave. When they were gone, the room was suddenly empty except for Zephyron and me.
Through the bond, I felt his exhaustion. His worry. His uncertainty—rare for him, destabilizing to experience through our connection.
"What do you think Morgrith is planning?" I asked quietly.
"Something terrible." Zephyron moved to the glass wall, watching the distant shapes of dragons disappearing toward their own territories. "Something that scares him enough that he won't speak it aloud. That's never a good sign with the Shadow Master."
He turned to face me. His storm-gray eyes were troubled.
"But whatever it is, we'll face it. Together." His hand found mine, electricity sparking between our joined fingers. "For now, we have work to do. Starting with drafting our Caretaker Pact. Then, when the time comes . . . consummation."
Hisstudywasquiet.Intimate. The glass walls were tinted here, filtering the morning light into something softer. His desk held organized chaos—blueprints rolled and stacked, technical manuals with bookmarks, that half-assembled gyroscope I'd helped diagnose. He moved to a cabinet and pulled out a device I didn't recognize.
"Magical projection system," he explained, setting it on the desk between us. It looked like a crystal sphere mounted on a brass framework with tiny gears that clicked softly. "It displays text in three dimensions. Makes editing contracts easier."
He touched the sphere and it hummed to life. Glowing text filled the air between us, suspended like it was written on invisible parchment. The letters were elegant, precise, somehow both ancient and modern.
The Caretaker Pact
Between Zephyron, Storm Master of Tempest Reach
and Thalia Fordring, His Bonded Mate
My breath caught. Seeing my name there—paired with his, in formal contract language—made something in my chest twist.
"Every bonded pair negotiates one," Zephyron said, settling into his chair and gesturing for me to take the one across from him. "This is ours. It establishes the structure of our dynamic. Rules. Promises. Consequences. Everything we need to function as partners."
Partners. Not servant and master. Not priestess and god. Partners.
He manipulated the text with gestures, his hands moving through the glowing words. The first section expanded.
Rules for Thalia:
1. Eat three complete meals daily, plus snacks when hungry. No fasting for ritual purity or any other purpose.
2. Report all cult conditioning triggers immediately, including phrases, situations, and memories that cause reversion to High Priestess mode.
3. Try new experiences when Daddy requests, even if they feel uncomfortable initially.
4. Accept care without deflection, negotiation, or attempts to prove worthiness.
5. Do not hide pain, fear, or distress. Communicate emotional state honestly.
6. Make no decisions regarding personal safety without consultation.
"These are non-negotiable," he said quietly. "The foundation of keeping you alive and healing the cult damage. Understood?"
I read through them again. Every rule was designed to counter something the cult had trained into me. Eating regularly versus ritual fasting. Reporting triggers versus suppressing response. Accepting care versus earning it.
