She was right here, pressed against my heart. Sweet and perfect. And then I let her go. Again.
That place... that compound.
The stink of wolves and piss and fear was so thick it almost choked me.
The broken shed door. The filthy floor. The cries bouncing off tin walls. My cries.It all came back in a rush. The memory of rough hands. Of beast-men who believed a woman could be bred like an animal. Of the moment when sweet Ahya’s soul stirred inside me... and I was too numb for anything but rage.
I wanted to burn that place down. And I did.
But it wasn’t enough.
Now I’ve given my child back to the only woman who ever held her gently, and I walked away because... because...
Because I can’t face myself. I can’t stand my dragon mates’ disappointed looks or the thought of them taking my magic away again.
I stumble into a small hollow surrounded by mossy stones. The smell of pine and wet earth is so strong it stings my nose. I drop to my knees, pressing my hands into the ground, trying to calm myself before the grief tears me apart.
A sob punches from my lungs.
I scream, but it can’t pass the ragged tightness of my throat.
It burns in my chest and comes out as a rough cough, but I don’t care.
I'm alone, and my pain is private. Around me, the forest stays silent.
“I had to,” I whisper to no one. “I had to save her. I couldn’t keep her. She’s safer there. Safer without me. Safer without me looking at her, trying to work out whose face I can see in hers.”
My voice cracks. The ground under my hands pulses softly, like the earth is grieving with me. Or maybe it remembers my magic. It tingles in my fingers, even though I’m empty inside.
I draw a trembling breath and raise my hand. The runes on my skin are still glowing softly, fading like starlight at the coming of dawn. The hum is still there. The power.
They’ll be furious.
Kelan’s roar still echoes in my bones. I remember the look in his eyes when I let my magic loose. It was betrayaland fear.
And yet, the moment I let my magic go, I felt something inside me finally fit.
That magic is part of me. They bound it to protect me, sure. But it was still a prison, and I was right to let it go and destroy those who tried to hurt my daughter.
I didn’t shatter under its weight.
I rose despite it.
A branch cracks behind me.
I stiffen. “Ronyn?” I whisper.“Darial?”
No answer.
I rise to my feet, wiping my face, spine straightening. “Kelan.” The air tastes strange, charged, and metallic.
The brush rustles.
I turn and freeze.
He steps into the clearing like a shadow peeled free from midnight.
He’s tall and broad. Silver scales shimmer on his collarbone and chest, black runes marking his skin like scars. He’s naked, his body moving with a strange, familiar strength. His eyes are pitch-black, but his slitted pupils shine with a molten silver that catches mine and won’t let go.
