Kaspian, Kelan’s son, already has his dad’s intensity but is lacking his patience. When he gets excited, shadows flicker under his skin, emerging in obsidian scales, just like his daddy.
“Use your hands and feet, not your talons,” Kelan says calmly beside me, though his shoulders are tight.
“He loves being a dragon,” Scarlet says. “He gets thatfrom you.” She smiles, smoothing the skirt of her gorgeous red dress.
Kelan raises an eyebrow. “What’s not to love about being a dragon? Wings are awesome. Power is spectacular. Fire is the best!”
“He climbed the kitchen island yesterday to reach honey and left claw marks everywhere,” I remind him.
“Hatchlings are a menace,” Ronyn mutters. He still burns hotter and fiercer than the rest of us, but now that fire warms more often than it destroys.
Scarlet laughs, and it sounds easy now. We’ve come a long way from the days of worry and silent sadness.
Dana, golden and thoughtful like her father Darial, is examining a beetle in the grass rather than participating in the structural recklessness.
Rosaline, my little firecracker, roars at Hunter’s triplets, and they roar back, all of them laughing. Ronyn watches his daughter with pride and amazement, still in total awe of her existence.
Behind us, a burst of flame whooshes unexpectedly.
We all turn to find Darial crouched beside the grill, breathing a careful stream of fire beneath the ribs.
“It needed some help,” he says defensively.
The heat flares higher than intended, and Hunter yelps as a spark bites his forearm.
“Hold still,” I say automatically.
Hunter stares at the reddening skin. “It’s nothing—”
I’m already beside him, magic coming to life under my hands, soft and warm, ready to heal. I touch his arm, and the burn disappears, the red fading away.
Goldie exhales slowly. “Every time you do that, I wantto cry.”
“It’s simple healing,” I say gently.
“It’s so much more,” she corrects.
It isn’t simple. It never has been.
Healing takes something from me, like the slow drain of giving blood, a weakness that seeps into my bones if I use my power too much. It’s why I choose my moments.
But sometimes… I hear things.
A news story of a child suffering or a mother counting down the days she has left, and when that happens, I find a way.
I always find a way. It could be in a crowded street or a hospital corridor. With a fleeting touch that no one questions, I can ease the worst of it, taking the edge off the suffering before I slip away.
They never know it was me, but for a little while, they get to breathe without pain, and sometimes, when the goddess is willing, they’re renewed.
Hunter flexes his arm and grins. “All right. That’s impressive.”
“Be more careful,” Kelan warns Darial.
“I was multitasking,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender.
Scarlet shakes her head. “Dragons.”
“Wolves,” Darial counters lightly.
