“Giant’s teeth,” I grumbled, turning back to the path. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to follow this stranger’s advice, but really, what choice did I have? It wasn’t like my current path was getting me anywhere, and if I was being honest, I really,reallyneeded to find a safe place to shelter for a few hours. The light filtering through the trees had turned the reddish-gold color of sunset, and I was so tired I had begun to sway on my feet.
Gathering my strength, I set off along the path. The glowing orbs were oddly soothing, easing some of my fear and exhaustion, beckoning me forward with a silent call. Encouraged, I lengthened my stride instinctively. I didn’t know where I was going, but I had the feeling that this path led somewhere important, to something that I needed to see.
After about an hour of walking, the path widened into a sort of overgrown drive, littered with roots and vines that would have tripped me up if not for the floating lights illuminating the path. Eventually, I came across an old, rusted gate. It was at least ten feet tall, covered in ivy, and lay open, half twisted off its hinges by some unseen force. Beyond it lay the ruins of an old castle, a remnant from a forgotten age long abandoned. Parts of the roof and walls were exposed, and the stones were covered in moss, but it looked sturdy enough to take shelter in, at least for the night.
Drawing my cloak tighter around me, I approached the ruin cautiously. The front door was locked, and the nearest hole in the wall was ten feet up, too high to climb. I considered the problem for a moment, wondering if I could use my fire magic, but I decided it was too risky. Instead, I grabbed a large brick lying nearby and brought it down on top of the doorknob with all my strength. The force of the blow smashed the knob, and the mechanism fell apart, clattering to the ground in pieces.
Here we go,I thought as the door swung inward. I stepped over the threshold and conjured my fireball again, using the flickering light to illuminate the interior. The inside of the tower was spacious, and looked like it had once been used as a kind of library or study. There was a large desk and chair in one area, what looked like laboratory equipment in another area, and a small group of couches and chairs where one could sit and read. Bookshelves packed with dusty tomes lined every inch of the walls, rising upward in a spiral pattern all the way to the very top of the tower. Rolling ladders were spaced at intervals on each level, and part of me itched to climb up there and explore the tomes on the shelves. Unfortunately, a sizeable chunk of the winding staircase had fallen away, rendering the upper levels inaccessible.
But the most arresting thing in the room was neither the books nor the staircase nor the laboratory. It was the massive stone dragon that lay curled up in front of the staircase, blocking access to it entirely.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the sculpture. Dragons hadn’t been seen in decades—the last ones were killed off before I was born, during the final days of the Dragon-Fae war that had plagued Ediria for millennia. The dragons had been trying to steal our land for centuries, and King Aolis—who had been general and the right hand of the king at that time— had eradicated them and taken back the lands they had stolen. According to the stories, the Radiants had blessed him with a special weapon after the dragons assassinated the former king, which he’d used to avenge his king and safeguard Ediria from all threats.
The last thing any fae would want to do was memorialize any dragon in stone, and especially not a lifelike sculpture such as this. Even curled up in sleep, the dragon towered over me by a good twenty feet. Its head alone was twice the length of my entire body, and the spikes jutting from its back and tail were the length of my forearm. The artist had put meticulous detail into the piece, right down to the individual scales that made up its hide.
Unable to help myself, I reached out and ran a hand across the stone scales. A shiver raced up my arm and down my spine—the stone was warm to the touch despite the cold weather. Was this really what dragons had looked like? What would it have been like to face one in battle?
I was about to pull my hand back when suddenly, the statue rippled. I gasped as the hard, grey stone transformed, turning into ruby-colored scales that shimmered in the light cast by my fireball. A growl rumbled from the sculpture, and I scrambled backward, a scream building in my throat.
Limbs shifted. Wings unfurled. Spiked tail swished. Fear turned my knees into molten liquid, and it took everything in me not to collapse to the ground as one large, golden eye opened, the reptilian pupil fixing straight on me.
The sculpture wasn’t a sculpture. It was a real dragon.
And I was about to be dinner.
7
Einar
Warmth.
I stirred at the foreign sensation, of fingers splayed against my hide, questioning, feeling. Who dared to touch me with such a delicate appendage, to pull me from the darkness that had become my home, my prison that I had so willingly embraced to see my family to safety?
I tried to sink back into the darkness, to shrug off this prick at my consciousness, but the warmth began to penetrate my hide and seep into my blood. My bones. My muscles stirred against my will, the sleeping spell sloughing off my hide like a layer of dust.
A growl rumbled up from the rusty bowels of my chest, and I cracked an eye open, determined to find the trespasser who dared disturb my slumber.
A female stared back at me, her cornflower blue eyes wide with terror. The growl in my throat cut off abruptly, and I stared back, momentarily transfixed by her beauty. Milky white skin, button nose, rosebud lips. Curves that beckoned and taunted all at once. Her lavender-blue hair was a wild mane around her heart-shaped face, and it begged me to run my fingers through it, to see if it was as soft and silky as it looked.
At least, until I saw the pointed ears peeking out from underneath it. Barely visible in the firelight coming from her palm, but there.
Fae. She’s a fuckingfae.
Rage ripped through me, obliterating any desire I had for the female. I bellowed loud enough to shake the walls, and the fae stumbled backwards, shielding her face. My muscles bunched as I prepared to launch myself at her, to tear her limb from limb for what her people had done to mine.
“No! Please, don’t hurt me!”
The dulcet tone of her voice awakened something with me, and I froze, an invisible tether bringing me up short before I could attack. I snarled as I realized what was happening, as the bindings tightened around my soul, rooting me to the spot, forcing me to obey her command.
The mating bond.
A beam from the ceiling fell, dislodged by my roar. The female screamed, and I reacted instinctively, whipping out one of my wings to shield her. The length of wood bounced harmlessly off my wing, but I misjudged my own momentum, and accidentally knocked her over with the appendage even as I sought to protect her. She fell back and smacked her head into the ground with a loudthunk.
Shit.
An unwelcome sense of guilt pierced my chest, and I tossed the beam aside, then shifted into my bi-pedal form. My wings furled into my back, torso shrinking, limbs lengthening, scales melting away into smooth skin. I rushed over to the fae—my mate, an inner voice in my head reminded me—and dropped to my knees beside her, then hauled her head into my lap.
“Hey. Hey!” I shook her shoulders, fear and anger biting into my words. “Wake up!”
