“No,” Alaric cut in. “Thankyou. I appreciate you coming back. I understand how strange all of this must be for you. Wolfe would appreciate your efforts, too.”
I managed a small smile, mostly because I didn’t know what else to give him.
The door at the far end of the room opened, and in came a woodland sprite carrying a tray of hot drinks and cinnamon buns. His shimmering blue skin matched his gossamer wings.
When his eyes met mine, his pixie face broke into a radiant smile.
Sirril.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled back.
He’d been the first friend I made when Wolfe took me. The first to make me feel safe.
Overcome, his steps slowed. He simply stared at me as if he couldn’t believe I was real. And then it was me who moved.
I crossed the room, the emotion rising too quickly to stop. His hands trembled so badly he had to set the tray down on the table. Then he closed the distance and took both my hands in his.
Warmth spread through my chest, strange and familiar, like truly coming home.
And somehow… it didn’t matter that I didn’t remember him.
“My Lady,” he said with reverence, his voice filled with awe.
“Sirril.”
“What a pleasure to have you back.” His smile wavered, bright with feeling. “I have prepared your favorite cinnamon delights.”
I glanced at the tray and smiled. “Thank you so much.”
“Welcome home, my Lady.”
Home.
Was it possible to feel at home in a place you couldn’t remember?
Maybe. Because I couldn’t deny what I felt.
“I hate to break up our reunion,” Alaric said, stepping forward, “but time is of the essence. We need to talk.”
“Of course,” I said.
He motioned for me to sit on the couch across from him. I did, grateful when Arielle sat beside me.
I was glad that Sirril sat, too, still watching me like he was afraid I’d vanish if he blinked.
The guys sat together, and Arielle opened the discussion, filling them in on what I’d told her upstairs about Thayden and hearing Wolfe calling to me.
They looked as shocked as she had. It nearly snuffed out the fragile hope in the room.
“I’m astounded,” Garrick murmured, shaking his head. “The attack the dragons described didn’t sound like something Scabbards could pull off.”
“It depends on what magic they used,” Alaric offered.
“Or where they got it,” Bastian cut in. “Even the magic-born would need something aboveboard to pull off an attack like that on Wolfe.”
“What exactly did the dragons say?” I asked. I had to know.
“The attackers were invisible,” Bastian replied. “They bound the dragons with magic that kept them from fighting back. Wolfe was blindsided from every angle. You tried to make his opponents visible, but you couldn’t. The dragons tried, too. Nothing anyone did worked.”
