He wanted me to forgive her, but that didn't mean he was going to take it easy on her, either.
Maeve flung herself at the French doors on the far wall. "On it!"
The doors had been built for dragons. Triple-glazed, floor to ceiling, wide enough to drive a truck through. The doors whooshed open. A gust of cold air blasted inside, fresh and sharp, full of rain and crushed leaves.
Lola blitzed past, a white streak of pure feline adrenaline, her tail twice its normal size. She screamedas she cleared the threshold and vanished into the night.
Apparently, she'd had enough.
In the same breath, Caden nudged Fifi's shoulder toward the door. She was still hunched in her own light, copper scales rippling with unease.
Tash got herself and Mere on their feet, wobbly but determined. The dog, Huey, circled their shins, whining and growling at the same time, like he couldn't decide what to do to defend his people.
Fifi, her dragon's name wasn't yet known to me, stumbled out after her mother and sister, staying next to me and Caden. We nudged her wings up so they didn't drag the ground.
The patio emptied into a moonlit stretch of grass. Wet and still green, ringed by mountain laurel and the old stone wall. The yard was big enough for a parade of dragons, thanks to my grandparents.
Mom was three steps behind me and Fifi, but she didn't hesitate. Once her heels hit the grass, she kicked them off and let her dragon out.
It was like a star going supernova. White fire tore through her skin, dress and all, and in her place stood her dragon Lyra. Long, elegant, flawless, opalescent from nose to wingtip. Her scales shimmered, catching every slant of moonlight and throwing it back inwaves, as if she'd swallowed a diamond and set it loose through every cell.
Lyra moved slowly, movements deliberate and regal, closing the gap to Fiona. She dipped her head, kept her tail low, and her wings tucked. This was the posture of a wise dragon, the one who'd seen countless sunrises and ridden the wind for decades. There was no anger, no threat. Just grace and the softest hint of cedarwood under the raw ozone of her power.
Fifi hesitated, trembling. Lyra made a sound. Not a roar, not a command, just a low, humming chuff that cut straight through the dark. It wrapped around dragon ears like pure comfort.
Caden joined the hum.
You're not alone. You're safe. Breathe, little one.Both of them repeated it until the air shivered with calm.
It worked. Fifi finally unfolded. Her wings dropped, claws pulled in, and her gold eyes blinked wet as she stared up at Lyra. My mother's dragon dipped fast, nuzzling the copper face with a gentleness I hadn't seen from her human version since childhood. The contact was quick, but it was enough. Fifi whimpered once, then melted to the ground in a heap of scales and relief.
Lyra coiled around her, tail sleeving the smallerdragon like a weighted blanket. It was pure instinct. Protect, shield, wait for the storm to pass.
I yanked myself out of Caden's perspective, gutted but grateful. I let my dragon form shrink, bones and flesh wrenching back to human. My clothes remained, courtesy of one of Maeve's spells, which was handy. Tash looked at me like she wasn't sure whether to run or reach out, and the wanting slammed into me just as hard as it had years ago. I didn't want to embarrass Mere—or Tash, either, though I hoped for a different reaction from her in the future if we got naked together.
Steam puffed off my skin as I crossed the clearing and reached for Tash and Mere.
Tash was stone-still, her face caught between terror and awe. She gripped Mere's arm like a lifeline. The kid was shaking, but she took my offered hand.
So did Tash.
"You, both of you, did so good."
Mere blinked at me like she was trying to run a logic test, but she didn't yank her hand away.
Tash slumped into my side, just an inch, but it was everything. That small lean sparked heat in my chest that I had to fight to keep off my face. I squeezed her hand. "They're safe. It's all right, Tash. I swear."
She exhaled, on edge but grateful.
Meanwhile, Fifi's shift had started to unravel. The golden aura around her flickered, then faded, and suddenly the only thing on the grass was a very naked sixteen-year-old, curled up in shock. I snapped my head around the other way so hard I nearly tweaked my neck.
"Sorry!" I barked, staring at the patio flagstones, cheeks running hot.
Maeve barreled in. I couldn't hear most of the words, but they were gentle. Something about "normal" and "nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart," and a little snort that sounded downright impressed. Soon, she hollered, "You can turn back around, Caden. All good here!"
Fifi was clothed again. Sweatpants and a hoodie, just what she'd been wearing before her world went nuts.
One of Maeve's spells. She was one of the best, though I could never tell her that. Her ego was already too big.
