I turned back towards the ocean with the little ones in tow. They’d been restless in their fathers’ arms, but calmed down in mine. They watched the ebb and flow of the water.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” I asked. Pointing up to the moonlit sky, I said, “Look at the clouds. What shapes do you see?”
Ruby and Heather couldn’t talk yet, but I knew speaking to infants was important for their development. Plus, I liked to make them feel involved.
Ruby, the older of the two dragonets, shifted to human form and copied my pointing gesture. He jabbed a stubby finger at the cloud drifting lazily overhead. I was surprised to see a familiar shape. The cloud had a spiral shell and two little antennae.
I smiled. “That one looks like a snail. Isn’t that nice?”
Not one to be left out, Heather pointed at a different clump of clouds, then looked to me for reassurance.
“Those are wonderful clouds, too,” I said. “To me, that one looks like...”
Suddenly, I paused. The cloud was unusually distinct. Its four legs and tail resembled a mammal, and the elongated snout and pointed ears created the iconic silhouette of a fox, or a dog.
I blinked a few times, wondering if I was seeing things, yet the canine cloud remained. Odd.
Out of nowhere, the ache in my chest pulsed. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want my niece and nephew to see me hurting, so I held steady. I tore my gaze away from the cloud.
“Why don’t we hunt for shells on the beach?” I suggested.
Ruby and Heather squealed with excitement as I sat down on the shore. I’d have to apologize to my brothers for the sandy diaper situation later, but for now, the three of us were preoccupied with having fun.
* * *
The next hourflew by as we spun fantasies of sand castles, villainous crabs, and seashell warriors. The kids didn’t care that it was past their bedtimes—if anything, it fueled them with mischievous energy. Their joyful laughter brightened the evening’s darkness, and by the time Crimson and Thystle returned to pick them up, I’d all but forgotten about the mysterious ache in my chest.
The flapping of wings alerted me to their return. The red and purple dragons landed on the sand, then shifted. The kids dropped their shells and crab claws before rushing over to their dads.
Warmth seeped through my chest as Crimson and Thystle hugged their babies. I felt like I’d completed my duty to those two. I raised them to be kind, strong adult men, and now they had families of their own. They were content. Whole. Complete.
The cavity in my heart nagged me. I lowered my face to the sand, then smoothed out the castles and shells, returning them to their natural state. The incoming tide would soon wash the fantasy away, so it felt gentler to do it with my own hands.
“Hey, Cobalt,” Crimson called. “Have fun with the rugrats?”
I nodded, concentrating on the sand.
“So, we discussed stuff. At the meeting,” Thystle said.
“Mm,” I replied.
There was a beat of silence between them.
“Do you... want to know what we talked about?” Thystle prompted.
The meeting was the last thing on my mind. Jade had adopted responsibility for the Games since he enjoyed paperwork and administrative tasks. I wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. I was too distracted. I couldn’t crunch numbers and create timetables while protecting my family. What if one of my brothers got hurt while I was in the middle of making a spreadsheet? I’d never forgive myself.
Even now, I worried about Viol. Crimson and Thystle said they couldn’t find him. Where had he gone this time? Did he stay on the island?
“Uh, Cobalt?” Thystle asked.
Crimson snorted in amusement. “Good job, big brother. The sand castle has been thoroughly demolished. You truly are a terrifying dragon, through and through.”
Terrifying?
I blinked down at the smooth sand, then rose to my feet. I always forgot how much I towered over my brothers until I stood face-to-face with them. They weren’t short alphas by any stretch of the imagination, but I received the lion’s share of the height genetics. Both my forms were massive.
My size was a double-edged sword. Being big and strong meant I could protect my loved ones, but I also loomed over those same loved ones. I never wanted to intimidate them, or make them uncomfortable. I hoped they looked up to me with trust instead of fear.
