But when I reach the woods, there is nothing. No tracks, no lingering scent on the wind, not even the faintest trace of his magical signature. He is… gone.
20
BRYNN
Breakfast the next morning is what I'd classify as a Category 5 Uncomfortable Silence. We’re gathered around a heavy oak table in a private alcove of the dining hall, a concession to our… unique party. The food is congealed oatmeal and something that might be stewed lichens. No one is eating.
Esme sits across from me, doing her best impression of a porcelain doll. She hasn’t spoken a word since she regained consciousness late last night. She just stares at her food, avoiding looking at any of us. The Grave Recall has left her half-in, half-out of focus, and I can practically see the calculations running behind her glassy eyes, trying to reconcile two incompatible realities.
Ridge and Nyv are staring intently at their spoons, like they hold the secrets of the universe. Chad, my new shadow, stands a few feet behind my chair, perfectly still, his presence quiet but impossible to ignore. We haven’t had much of a chance to speak since he was let out.
“My brother is missing,” a now-all-too-familiar baritone voice cuts through the quiet clatter of the dining hall.
Dayn strides toward us, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the table. His jaw is set like granite beneath the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and his eyes—those ancient, amber eyes—lock onto Esme with such burning intensity that the air between them seems to waver with heat.
Ridge’s head jerks up. Nyv frowns. “Missing? Like… what? He got lost?”
“Like he vanished from a warded compound without a trace in the middle of the night,” Dayn clarifies, his voice sharp.
Esme doesn’t look up, barely blinks. Her fork scrapes softly against her plate, a sound that grates on my every nerve.
I stare at the man-dragon, who according to Helena, might hold the key to ending all this madness… Missing? How does a full-grown dragon go missing? Unless he just decided to leave. Our boundaries are stronger now than yesterday, post-Esme's-near-death-experience, but pure draconic magic could still find a way to burst through since our shield isn’t fully healed yet.
“Did you check the roof?” I ask, because someone has to say something. “Maybe he went for a flight.”
Dayn’s gaze flicks to me for a fraction of a second, a dismissal so complete it’s almost impressive. Then he’s back to staring at Esme. “It’d be unusual for him to leave without a word. Not now.” He takes a step closer to our table, his presence warping the air around us. “Esme. Did you see anything?”
He’s asking her like she’s some kind of magical security camera. Which, given the state she’s in, perhaps isn’t entirely inaccurate. She’s connected to this place now, in a way that makes my skin crawl. Maybe she did see something.
Without warning, Esme stands, chair legs scraping against stone. “I have… preparations to make,” she says, her voice quiet. She sidesteps, before dissolving into the shadows near the exit.Preparations for the second trial.
I watch Dayn's face harden and wait for the inevitable moment when he'll stalk after her. But instead, his attention pivots to me. “I’d like to talk,” he says, his amber eyes narrowing.
Ridge and Nyv take their leave swiftly since they have patrol duty anyway, while Chad moves closer to my chair.
Dayn’s gaze flicks to Chad. It’s not a verbal command, but the weight of it is unmistakable.*Privacy*.
Chad’s jaw tightens. He gives me a questioning look, a silent inquiry as to whether I want him to stay. I give the slightest shake of my head. Reluctantly, he moves, but not far. He shifts to a seating area near the main exit, positioning himself with his back to a pillar, grabbing a book that he has no intention of reading. He’s still watching.
Now it’s just me and a dragon king at a table of cold oatmeal. Good. I’ve been wanting to find a moment to talk to him too.
He looms rather than sits. “Your ancestor,” he says, his voice a low command. “Helena. I want her exact words. Everything you heard. Verbatim.”
He already got the gist of it in the council chamber, but I can see the need for precision etched into his features. Details matter. Especially magical ones.
I take a breath, closing my eyes for a second to recall the staticky, desperate shriek of her voice in my mind.“‘The ritual must be consummated,’”I recite.Because apparently I'm the designated messenger of awkward supernatural booty calls now.“‘Flesh to flesh… soul to soul. Light and darkness… must bond… fully. The dragon and the darkblood... become one. No hesitation. No doubt. There is no other path, Esme!’”I open my eyes and adjust my glasses with my middle finger, not-so-accidentally.
“So,” I say, leaning forward. “Let me spell this out. You need to bang my sister.”
The corner of his mouth does this weird micro-twitch thing. Not a smile—more like his face briefly malfunctioned. But it's the dragon equivalent of rolling on the floor laughing, maybe. He's already figured it out too. It's either sexy-time or Esme faces a trial that might either kill or unleash a nuclear bomb of darkness we don’t even know how to control. Talk about your rock and hard place situations.
“Look, you're dragon royalty,” I continue, dropping my voice to conspiracy-level. “Don't you guys have, like, special moves for this? Magic pheromones? Ancient seduction rituals? I’ve read something about them. That weird thing where you breathe on gold to make it shiny and then give it as gifts?”
Dayn exhales, his shoulders dropping a millimeter. “There are techniques,” he says. “But you misunderstand the nature of what your ancestor is demanding. This is not simply about getting Esme into my bed.” His golden eyes seem to ripple like molten metal. “Helena's words were specific:fully. No hesitation. No doubt. That means the ritual requires more than bodies joining—it demands souls intertwining. The flesh is merely the final threshold we cross to cement what must already exist in spirit.”
Oh. Great.
“Helena was telling you that the only way for it to work, for it to forge the weapon she spoke of instead of just... possibly breaking us both... it would have to be genuine.”
