Quick, before she lost herself entirely to this dragon by her side.
Blinking, she tried her best to clear her vision. “Where are the others?”
“Not sure.” He glanced around as if looking for either friend or foe. There was a light behind his eyes that said he had something else going on in his thoughts. “They scattered, and like you, I was blinded enough that I couldn’t see where they went. I’m trying to reach Blaise with my powers. Something has me blocked. I’d Bane-Cry for him, but given this place, I’m not sure I want to even attempt that. Who knows what might answer with him, or head toward his position. While I have no problem beating the hell out of anything that rears its head, I don’t want to lead trouble to him.”
She bit back a smile at the emotion in his voice. He always thought of Blaise first.
In every situation. Which made her suspicious…
“You love him a lot more than a brother, you know that? What’s the deal with you two?”
Hands on hips, he turned to face her. “Don’t know what you mean.”
She tsked at the suddenly defensive dragon who confirmed her opinion and solidified it. No wonder he was so protective.…
There was only one logical reason for that.
“I had a moment where I thought he might be that son you mentioned, but since he knew your son in Camelot… my money says he’s your grandkid, isn’t he?”
Oh yeah,therewas an expression that confirmed it on those handsome dragon features. Falcyn should never play poker. His opponents would clean house with his wallet.
His continued silence on this matter only added another layer of veracity.
Medea approached him slowly. “That’s why I didn’t ask about it while they were around us. I knew it would piss you off. And I was right.” No one could miss the fury that burned deep in those steely blues.
Tsking, she cocked her head. “So what really happened to separate him from his parents? ’Cause I know you didn’t give him up without a fight.”
Falcyn started to tell her to go to hell and take her ridiculous assumptions with her. It was what he’d always done in the past when someone asked something he didn’t like. He couldn’t stand being questioned.
And yet as he saw her honest sincerity and the tenderness of her expression and it touched a part of him that he hated, the truth ran past his lips before he could catch it and lock it down. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there when Blaise was born. Maybe his father did what Blaise said and left him to die. I’ve never met Maddor. Have no idea about his character or anything else. He could easily be as big a bastard as I am. Even though he’s my son, he’s a complete stranger to me.”
“Why?” As soon as the question came out, she regretted it, because it wrung such a look of pain from him thatshecould feel it.
It was an expression of soul-deep anguish. The kind only a parent could feel at the loss of a child.
And she hated how well she related to it. How much she understood.
How much she despised herself for reopening his wounds when it was obvious that he wasn’t really a bastard. In spite of his words, he cared about his unknown son as much as she’d cared about hers. And he ached over the loss every bit as much. It was the loss of all those years together that never went away. The anguish of wondering what could have been. What kind of man her son would have grown into. What kind of relationship they would have had.
All those questions and all those doubts and the pain. It never dulled. Never stopped.
Damn life for it.
And Falcyn loved Blaise more than his own life. She’d seen that firsthand in everything he did for him. The way he doted and guarded.
Before she realized what she was doing, she pulled him against her and held him. “I’m sorry, Falcyn.”
Falcyn swallowed hard, wanting to shove her and her pity away from him like a disease. He was drakomai. The first of the dragons. He didn’t need kindness or compassion.
Damn sure didn’t want it from a Daimon leader.
That was what his mind screamed out. But his body wouldn’t cooperate or listen. In all these centuries, no one had ever held him when he was hurt.
Never once.
He was always abandoned during those darkest hours of his life. Left alone to ache and bleed until he’d learned to expect nothing else.
From anyone.
