“They are mine. I love them as they are.”
The boys stirred in their sleep, one yawning so wide it made Midas laugh under his breath. He reached out to tuck the fur more securely around them, careful not to wake them.
Elowen leaned against his shoulder, the tension leaving her body inch by inch.
And for a moment there was no pain, no fear, and no suffering. Only a human girl, a dragon, and the two lives they created together, deep in the heart of the mountain.
Thirty-Three
At first,Elowen thought she was imagining things.
The way their clothes grew tighter, how their once-wobbly heads now held steady with uncanny strength. But as she laid the boys down beside one another on the soft pelt-lined floor of the cave, her brow furrowed. Their limbs had lengthened. Their tiny bellies had filled out. They had been born scarcely a full moon ago…and yet, they looked more like human toddlers than newborns.
She brushed a finger down one of their arms, then glanced at Midas, who stood nearby with a haunch of meat balanced on one shoulder. His eyes flicked toward her immediately, and then toward the boys. His steps slowed.
“They’ve grown,” she murmured, not quite a question.
Midas stepped closer, setting the meat aside. He lowered himself to one knee beside her and studied their sons with a narrowed gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing, merely watched them with intense focus. Then he exhaled a soft puff of warm air.
“Yes.”
Elowen looked up at him sharply. “You’re not worried?”
A slow smile curled across his face, sharp-toothed and gleaming with pride.
“Dragon,” he said. He reached out and gently touched one of the boys’ legs, marveling at the steady kick it gave in return. “Good seed. Good bones. Strong.”
Elowen blinked, startled. “You think it’s…agoodthing?”
Midas gave a small, emphatic grunt of agreement. “It means…” he said, tapping a clawed fingertip gently to his temple to find the words. “Fly sooner. Bite harder. Hotter fire.” He turned to her, eyes bright with pride. “They aremine.”
Elowen wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. The thought of her sons soaring through the skies—flying,for heaven’s sake—was still almost too much to process when her womb hadn’t yet adjusted to the emptiness.
“But they’re not even crawling yet,” she whispered.
Midas said. “Soon they run. Then I lead them to sky.”
He said the last word with such reverence that it caught her breath. She looked at the boys again, at their sharp golden eyes blinking slowly, at the faint flickers of shimmer beneath their skin. She hadn’t imagined that either. In the right light, it was there—scattered patches of something like scale beneath their soft baby flesh.
Midas sat beside her now, watching her closely.
“You have fear of this?” he asked, softer.
She hesitated. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just…didn’t expect them to grow so quickly. What if it means they’ll age faster than humans? Faster than my heart will accept?”
Midas frowned, processing her words. Then, without speaking, he reached out and cupped the back of her head with one large, warm hand, pulling her gently until her temple rested against his chest. His heartbeat was slow and thunderous beneath her cheek.
“Dragons live long. Do not fear time.”
Elowen nodded slowly, curling one arm around his side as she closed her eyes. The boys shifted in their sleep, and Midas tucked a fur more securely around them both.
That night, just as Midas and Elowen fell into deep slumber, they were awoken by the shrill, pained cries of their boys.
And the screaming did not stop.
Not at dawn, when the first light touched the mouth of the cave. Not at dusk, when the fire burned low and Midas wrapped his wings tight around the family nest. Not even in the deepest hours of night, when the wind outside howled through the mountain.
Auric wailed until his voice cracked. Kalen thrashed and kicked, sobbing as if something inside him were trying to claw its way out. Their little bodies curled and jerked in spasms neither fever nor injury could explain.
