Rhaedra’s gaze swept the room, passing over Ash as if she were smoke, then lingering—too long—on Race.
Ash folded her arms, biting back a snort. If only the she-hag knew how pointless that look was.
“The guards have rotated early,” Varkyn announced, stopping at the table. “The storm forced their shift. Our window’s shorter than expected.”
Race’s head snapped up. “How much shorter?”
“Maybe around three hours instead of six once the storm front peaks.” Varkyn’s scarred fist thumped the wooden surface. “More intel. My scouts report they’re awaiting the births of seven young.”
Race’s mouth thinned. “Then we hold the rescue of the females until later. We can’t move them in that state.”
Ash’s fingers curled into fists. Children. Women. All bloody stock for whatever the sodding usurper desired.
“I can work with this,” she said evenly, even if her heart wanted to crash through her ribs. “And have the storm in position within the hour.”
Rhaedra’s perfect brow arched, her expression steeped in skepticism. “You sound quite certain.”
“She knows her craft,” Attor said from the table’s head, cutting through the tension. “The storm will come. The question is whether we’re ready when it does.”
Ignoring the she-dragon, Ash pulled her parka on and zipped it. “I thought dragons don’t have kinetic powers. It’s what Malcarion’s hoping for from the newborns, right?”
Race looked up, his eyes burning.
“Aye,” Attor answered. “While we are magical to an extent, we carry our power in flesh and flame—scale, fire, strength, one or two might carry more. However, a young born of a non-shifter, or even between a human and a dragon, the chances are higher.”
No wonder these blood-breeding bastards were after human females.
“I saw a poster in Nyxholt,” Race said then. “Gold offered for the capture of a jade dragon. Why?”
Ash frowned.
Rhaedra spoke, her expression tight. “They assume we jades breed often and guarantee strong offspring. They mistake that for power.”
Much as the she-dragon annoyed her, Ash understood the anger behind her words.
“It all ends tonight.” Race straightened, the shift in him palpable—like a blade locking home. His crimson gaze swept the room. “Everyone knows their position in the tunnel?”
“Aye,” came the unified response.
“Good.” His gaze found hers. The air between them changed, grew darker, charged. “Attor will guard you on the ridge while you maintain the storm. I’ll take you both there before we begin.”
Are you all right?she telepathed, unsettled by the strain beneath his steely tone.
His expression didn’t flicker.Focus on what’s ahead, heart-fire.His voice in her mind softened briefly.Just keep yourself safe. Wear the scaled coat. It’s on the armchair.
Sighing, Ash reached for it. He likely had someone buy the coat for her. Bregga or Koal, maybe.
She pulled the gray coat over her parka, feeling like she was about to star in a Michelin Man cosplay, and dug out her beanie from her pocket?—
A wall of heat slammed through their bond. She staggered, catching herself on the chair’s backrest, her heart pounding. The sensation vanished as quickly as it came, leaving her stomach roiling.Race!
Breathing hard, she spun to face him.
Before she could confront him, he was at her side, a powerful arm sliding around her waist.
“When the storm breaks, we move,” he said from above her head to the others. “I’ll meet you all at the foothills.”
Attor moved to join them. Race grasped the male’s arm. The last thing she saw before Race dematerialized them was Rhaedra’s cool stare, sharp and assessing.
