We won’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.
31
AURA
Lythian returns to the room where I’m being held. The quiet talk with her mates is over. Their disappointment as they left was palpable, but I didn’t hear any of what they said after that.
She extinguishes the candles and incense, her gaze avoiding mine. She’s gone from upright, regal, and totally in control to hunched with gritted teeth.
I remain where they left me, wrists still tethered, the dragon-skin cloak heavy over my body like a prison. My magic is quiet again, smothered beneath it.
“Your display has unsettled them,” she says at last.
“I’m glad.”
Her mouth twitches in irritation. She sits next to me on the bed, close enough to sense the quiet pulse of dragon power under her skin. It’s different to Kelan’s, Ronyn’s, and Darial’s. Hers is more controlled, and darker.
“You shouldn’t mistake us for your enemies,” she says softly. “We are trying to save our kind. We’re not the oneswho would take away your magic for good. When we release you, you will be free to use it as you wish.”
“You abducted me. Bound me. Tried to force me into a breeding ritual. You don’t get to call that salvation.”
Her gaze flickers. For the first time since I met her, weariness shadows her eyes.
“I was the last female,” she says. “Do you know what that means? To watch centuries pass and witness no children born? For your body to fail your species? To watch the males grow desperate, reckless, and violent with the knowledge that they are the last of us? To realize that all the stories passed from mother to daughter are true.”
She looks away.
“I love them,” she says quietly. “And I can’t give them what they need. Not a single egg or hatchling. No chance at a family and a future.”
I swallow.
Her shoulders slump and her eyelids lower. The pain she shows is the kind that empties you from the inside out.
“I understand grief,” I say. “I can understand loss. But that doesn’t give you the right to use my body or kill my children. If you’re so bothered about the future of dragonkind, what would killing them achieve?”
Her eyes snap back to mine. “You think this is about rights? About fairness? This is survival. Extinction doesn’t care about consent. We have no choice. That was the goddess's decision.”
My chest tightens. “It’s better to let your kind end,” I whisper, “if the only way you can continue is by becoming monsters.”
My words linger between us, sharp and heavy.
She exhales slowly. “You’re stronger than I expected,”she says. “That’s… promising. The offspring you produce will be strong.”
Before I can answer, the door opens, and the males return.
They stay away from the bed. Instead, they gather around some low sofas and carved tables by the windows. One pours wine into crystal glasses. Another leans back, stretching out his long legs and speaking quietly.
They laugh, and the sound is jarring. They appear relaxed, and comfortable, reminding me of rich men in a penthouse, unwinding after a long day of making money in spurious ways.
Tael stretches, glancing toward me with a crooked smile. “You gave us quite a show,” he says. “Didn’t expect that before the ceremony even began.”
“Leave her.” Lythian’s tone isn't sharp but indulgent.
Loriek, pale-haired and watchful, tilts his head. “We’re not frightening her, are we? We’re showing her we’re civilized.”
I almost laugh, but I couldn’t bear giving them satisfaction.
They talk to each other about the city, old hunts, and how dragon territories are fading. They sound like a family that’s lived together for years. If I didn’t know what they planned for me, I might believe their act. I might think they were good dragons who cared for each other.
