I think for a second, then tell them about the first time I rode Nythera. How I almost fell off, and how she saved my ass at the last second by grabbing my pants in her teeth and hauling me back onto her neck. Harper’s eyes are huge, and she keeps gasping at the scary parts, but by the end she’s laughing.
“Our dragons are always saving us,” she says.
“They’re very invested in our continued existence,” I say. “Probably because we make sure they’re never bored.”
The sky outside fades from orange to dark blue. Stars appear, one by one, and somewhere overhead, dragons roar their ancient songs.
Harper’s eyes are closed, but I know she’s awake. She’s smiling.
I think about what she said, about wanting a family, and I know, really know, that it’s not just possible, it’s inevitable. We’re here, all of us. We made it.
And for once in my life, I don’t want anything else.
18
Harper
I wakeup and for a moment, I don’t know which of my four men is holding me, Alaric, Lucien, Gareth, or Sevrin, but that’s not a problem, because I know it’s one of them. Which is an awesome feeling. I get to wake up every morning being held by four incredible men.
The cave is cool and dark, but my skin is prickling with lazy, satisfied energy. I can tell by the weight and the arms that wrap around me that Gareth is my current pillow. The boys have moved around since I feel asleep, each of them trying to take their turn to get close to me. Alaric sprawls at our feet, one tanned arm thrown over his eyes. Lucien’s silhouette is curled on his side, back to us as he lays beside Gareth, blond hair streaming down his shoulder.
But behind me? There’s no one.
There’s a gap in the warmth that surrounds me. A human-sized hole where my fourth husband should be sleeping. I sit up, careful not to wake the others and step out of the cave and into the early morning life. The sound of the ocean is everywhere.The whole Island of Dragons is alive, the air humming with insects and distant, melodious roars. The sky’s gone from indigo to pearl while we were sleeping, and a dull pink line paints the horizon. The wind tastes metallic and honeyed all at once, like it’s been filtered through the wings of a thousand dragons.
Glancing around, I stretch out my senses and have a deep feeling that Sevrin is to my left, so I start walking that way. The night has left dew on every leaf, and as I walk, the ground practically glitters under my toes. The field is a mess of color: bulbous flowers in every shape, stalks fat with nectar. The trees are taller than any castle, and each is wrapped in dangling vines that catch the rising light and shimmer like glass. I stop to watch a pair of hatchlings, one orange, one a sickly mint color, pounce on each other on the far side of the clearing.
This place is like a dream.
I wonder if there are any plants here that would be good for healing.Probably more than I can count.
I spot Sevrin from a great distance. Not because he’s doing anything showy, but because he’s the only person on the entire island who's cloaked in black. Also, the only personawakeperiod. His silhouette stands out on the hill above the cave, and for a moment I just watch him, breath held, as he stands with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted back. Even with his face in profile, I can tell he’s awake in that way only he can be: absolutely still, and yet more alive than anyone.
But as I come closer and the lower side of the hill comes into sight, I see what’s in front of him, and my heart skips a beat.
A dragon, the shade of rose quartz. Her scales shimmer in the dawn’s early light, each one edged in a deep pink shade. She’s enormous, but delicate. Her wings are folded tight, her tail coiled in a figure eight, and her snout is lowered so her head is level with Sevrin’s. Her eyes are a swirling, bottomless pink, shotthrough with pale yellow. She is, in a word, gorgeous. And she is letting Sevrin pet her nose.
I don’t move for a second.This is not how dragons behave. They don’t like strangers, especially not men who look like a Hollowborn.Even the friendliest wild dragons stay twenty paces away unless they’ve decided you’re worth knowing. But this one is nuzzling him, her eyes half-lidded, a soft thrumming in her chest I can hear from here.
I keep my steps light as I approach. At the last second, she raises her head, and for a terrifying moment I think she might flame me, but instead she blinks and lets out a long, soft croon. Sevrin doesn’t turn around, but I see the edge of his smile.
“I think she likes me,” he says, low and dry.
“Apparently.” My hands go to my hips before I can stop them. “How?”
He shrugs, but there’s something reverent in the way he moves. “I didn’t do anything. She just walked up and sat down.”
“You’re petting her.”
“Yeah.” He finally glances at me, his eyes alive and sharp, and a little wild. “I figured she’d bite my arm off, but she just leaned into it.”
“She’s not supposed to let anyone touch her,” I say, feeling dumber with every word. “Especially not…” I trail off, catching myself.
“Not what?” he prompts.
“Not a Hollowborn.” I don’t like saying it, but the fact hangs there between us. This is new. New and maybe a little scary.
He runs his hand along the dragon’s nose ridge, and she hums, arching into the contact. “Well, she doesn’t seem to mind.” His mouth twists. “Maybe she knows what it’s like to be an outcast.”
