Caelian peeked over at him, the female nestled and sleeping soundly as she continued to rock. “Now what?”
While their sister slept, the two brothers were climbing over one another, knocking broken shells everywhere, and making a general ruckus of their very existence.
“Now we have to name them.” Kjeld scooped up the one with blue eyes, and it attempted to roar. Pathetically adorable, really. “A dragon’s name should be symbolic. Empowering.”
Sylvan bent down to lift the one with yellow eyes. “Will they answer to them?”
“They will.” Kjeld nodded, giving each of the males another small chunk of meat. “In time.”
“And will you teach them commands in your native tongue?” Caelian asked.
The way she said the word tongue caused his blood to heat. He cleared his throat, thinking about all the things he wanted to teach her with his native tongue. “Yes, and I will make sure you learn them as well. Just in case.”
“Wonderful.” Caelian gazed down at the sleeping whelp, her eyes softening with love, completely oblivious to his innuendo. “I shall call you Lunaris, for you remind me of moonlight.”
“Fitting.” The one Sylvan held coughed and screeched, a trail of smoke pouring from his nostrils. He patted him gently on the snout. “I think Pyran for this one, he seems eager to breathe fire.”
“An excellent choice,” Kjeld agreed, hoisting the dragon he held. “And what shall we call you?”
The whelp with the blue eyes screeched and squawked, flapping his wings violently.
“Brohm,” he said decidedly. “An ancient Northernlands battle cry.”
Three healthy baby dragons had hatched successfully, and while he would never voice his concerns out loud, he had worried that all the travel and lack of a proper nest might in some way hinder their hatching. Yet each of them looked fit and agile with sharp fangs, large claws, and impressive wings. Once they were fully grown, they would make fine adults. Maybe they would never have a need to see battle like those in Brackroth.
Maybe they could thrive in the Moonfall Peaks of Aeramere.
Or maybe, just maybe, they would stay here. In Wenfyre. Perhaps they would choose a realm of peace and stability, where gratefulness and connection to nature flourished. Maybe they would come to love this land with its sea of falling stars and river of memories and forest of whispers and dreams.
Try though he might, Kjeld couldn’t stop staring at Caelian. She looked as though she belonged here. Among the forests and flowers, barefoot and happy, with ribbons and roses entwined in her hair.
Yes, he thought quietly to himself.
Maybe they would make Wenfyre their home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
With all three of the baby dragons dozing peacefully in their pile of blankets after a long day of training, Caelian went in search of Morwyn.
She’d spent most of the past few days with Kjeld and Sylvan, with Lira joining them every so often, paying careful attention as Kjeld taught the whelps the most basic of skills. She watched in awe as they attempted to hover and flap a few feet off the ground, as they learned to breathe fire instead of puffing out plumes of smoke. It was fascinating, really, being able to witness them learn and grow and respond to Kjeld’s commands with ease. Even if there were a few she didn’t particularly enjoy.
Like when Kjeld called outfierys, and Pyran quickly charred a squirrel on the run. She didn’t like to dwell upon that too much because she knew as the whelps increased in size, so would their appetites. Squirrels and smaller critters wouldn’t satisfy them for long. The only consolation was Kjeld explaining that even though they ate a lot now and always seemed hungry, that too would abate. One decent meal could satisfy them for a week or so, maybe longer, depending on their mood. Dragons were not inclined to hunt for sport, it was a means of survival.
Either way, Caelian preferred to watch them fly instead.
Or at the very least, try to fly.
Each of them was improving every day. Lunaris could hover and flutter her wings so she was able to look Caelian in the eyes. Pyran was still in the hopping and flapping phase, though he was more advanced at a fireball than the other two. And while Brohm hadn’t quite mastered the use of his wings, he was the first of the whelps to swoop and glide for any length of time.
In a few days, they would be taking the baby dragons to meet Odryss. Kjeld’s dragon would demonstrate all the aerial maneuvers, and she hoped he took them under his wing. Both literally and figuratively. Kjeld mentioned that the whelps would pick up hunting easier if they could follow the example Odryss set before them.
But in the meantime, while the whelps earned some much-needed rest, Kjeld was off in the Myrkwild with Sylvan shooting arrows, and Caelian found herself perched on one of the vast balconies of the Eldergrove with Morwyn.
Before her, the sweeping rooftop of trees rose and fell in waves, ending abruptly to the west, where the edge of the Myrkwild met the shores of the Caelora Bay. Birds sang freely, soaring and diving between branches, while glimmers of sunlight bounced off an array of vibrant greenery. The forest seemed to breathe and sigh, the breeze humming a delightful melody through its leaves, while a flurry of activity surrounded the Eldergrove.
Preparations were being made for the Wildsong Gathering, and the Druids of Wenfyre were busy decorating and cooking for the celebration of Caelian and Kjeld’s marriage. It seemed silly, for she wasn’t sure anything could ever replace their intimate vow exchange beneath the willow, much less the activities that followed, but from the looks of the meadow below, it certainly seemed the Druids knew how to throw a wonderful party. There were arbors overflowing with wisteria, and each time a kiss ofwind stole by, lavender and blue petals flurried to the ground like snow. Wooden logs were rolled out for seating, and a clearing surrounded by a circle of stones and flowers looked as though it was the perfect spot for dancing. Laughter rang out like the clanging of bells, loud and merry, and Caelian couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“You seem at ease here, Caelian.” Morwyn’s gaze slid to her, the corner of her mouth pulling into a gradual smile. “The Myrkwild looks good on you.”
