“Aye. So, either on the mountains again or at the Nocthra Sea. That’s the black body of water you can see from the palace.”
“I’d rebuild it on the same spot,” she said softly. “Just with a new face. Malcarion’s tyranny shouldn’t have the last word there.” She tilted her head, then added dryly, “Assuming money isn’t a problem, of course.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement.
“Just so you know,” she said casually, “I have maybe a thousand quid to my name, not much help financially. But I can cement a mean brick wall. I helped my dad build the rose garden arbor.”
He kissed her on the mouth, silencing her, and when he drew back, his voice was raspy and raw with tenderness. “My beautiful Ash, I don’t have the words to convey just how much I adore you. Now, please continue about the palace.”
God, this man.Her lips curved, and her heart melted.
She braced up on her good arm while he lay there like some fallen deity, silver hair spilled across the faded gray pillows. “What I’m trying to say is that by rebuilding at the same place, it will strip Malcarion’s shadow. Your people will see not ruins, but renewal.”
“Not mine.Ourpeople.”
Oh, boy.It still felt a bit surreal to think of those majestic dragons ashers.
His smile softened, and he drew her down again. “So, the mountain it is, then. Now sleep, it helps you heal faster.”
With an exhausted yawn, Ash let her eyes drift shut… Something glinted on the little table near the wall.
Her dagger.
A soft breath escaped her. She must have summoned it during her healing sleep without even realizing it. Smiling, she melted into his warmth, safe in the arms of her dragon.
Epilogue
Ash shiveredas Race shut the portal, her breath turning the air white. Her gaze fixed on the Guardians’ castle, picturesque and ancient, locked in icy weather despite the clear skies and bright sun.
She didn’t think it was possible, but she already missed the char-scented air and warmth of Talonhold House and Duskscale. “Lemuria feels like a dream now.”
“Oh, heart-fire, it will all be there waiting,” Race said dryly, slipping his cell back into his pocket. “Ready to face the natives?”
Ash huffed, tracing the edges of her sling supporting her injured arm. She focused on her mate.
Clad in his perpetual black, the color set off his silver hair and sun-warmed skin. With his waist-length tresses in a sleek braid, he looked regal, impossibly gorgeous, and utterly lethal—just not to her.
“I’m assuming you texted Michael?”
“Yeah. Hell,monthshave passed here already.” He hooked their backpack on one shoulder. “That damned fractured portal—at least the Resistance is guarding it now. I asked Attor to see if Vargol can heal it.”
Ash nodded. “Let’s hope he can.”
“Months? Oh, no!” she squeaked. “Mum and Dad?—”
With her arm trapped in a sling, she fumbled one-handed for her mobile in her coat pocket.
“Let me.” Race reached into the pocket, pulled it free, and switched it on before handing it to her.
“Christ on a crutch! May?” She stared aghast at the screen and the number of missed calls. She hastily called her mother, who answered on the first ring. “Mum?—”
“Ash, darling, we were so afraid when we heard nothing from you. Dad called this Michael. Apparently, Race gave him the number. He reassured us everything was fine. Said you were out of range and would call as soon as you could. Something about Race’s work.”
Ash mouthedthank youto her smiling mate and sent Michael her eternal gratitude.
“Oh, good. I’ll call soon, Mum, just got back, and I’m rather tired.”
“It’s all right, love. Take care of yourself and pass your man our regards.”
