“In another life, perhaps we could have been sisters. But in this one, you were simply my captor.”
She smelled woodfire smoke, and the tenor of a man’s voice carried from the clearing as she approached. Her heart was in her throat, her breath audible in the warm, humid summer air. When she heard the screech of a child’s laughter, she nearly turned around, sure she had been wrong.
But then, a small figure darted out of the house, and she nearly stopped breathing.
“Papa! There’s a lady in the trees!” a girl called, her brow creased as she pointed to where Cion stood. The child couldn’t have been older than five, her face a striking mix of Misean and Arenean features, her silver hair pulled back into tiny braids.
Cion didn’t move, simply watching as a ghost wearing the face of Vane Evva hurried out of the house, heading for the child and pulling a long knife from his belt. He didn’t look older than perhaps twenty-five, his dark hair free of gray and his eyes rimmed with silver ether as he scanned the area.
When his gaze landed on Cion, he tucked the knife away and the ether faded. “Nya, love, is that her?” he asked the child gently, pointing.
The girl bobbed her head. “She looks like the queen in the painting but old.”
Vane’s lips curved. “Are you going to just stand there while my four year old daughter insults you, Cion?” he called. “Or will you defend your honor?”
Finally, fingertips tingling and head light, she stepped into the clearing. “My honor is fine. The child is right, and age is nothing to scoff at, not amongst us mortals.”
His smirk softened. “No, it is not. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, my queen.”
“We’re in Mise,” she said, scanning the area. “So I’m afraid you’re wrong, I am no queen here.”
Vane took a step closer, the child clinging to his leg. “She’s on dragonback, Cion. You might have to wait a little while if you wish to see her.”
“And the other dragon?”
He chuckled. “Heles is rather good at hiding—and napping. She won’t wake unless we’re in dire danger, I’m afraid.”
“She snores really loud!” Nya said brightly. “And her breath smells bad, but you get used to it. Does your dragon have smelly breath too? He’s very pretty—for a boy dragon.”
Cion took a deep breath and knelt in front of the child, holding out a jeweled hand. Nya glanced up at her father, and Vane murmured, “It’s alright, little love. She won’t hurt you.”
A spark ran up Cion’s spine when the girl touched her hand, and she tilted her head. Even though she was not a magic wielder herself, she could still sense it, and this girl was practically spilling over with power. She ignored the warning bells in her head and instead asked her, “How did you know Valhamnor was a male dragon?”
“The size of his head,” Nya said matter-of-factly. “And the spikes by his ears. Female Fesper dragons don’t have those.”
Cion glanced up at Vane. “You’ve taught her well.”
“I can’t claim credit for that part of her education,” he said, looking at his daughter fondly. “But she does already have a mean left hook thanks to me. Just don’t tell Sora I?—”
“Don’t tell Sora what, exactly?”
Cion froze, not daring to look past Nya yet. But as the child tugged her hand free and Vane grinned and turned, she could no longer ignore it.
“Mamma, we have a visitor!” Nya exclaimed, running to?—
Soren.
Cion hadn’t even realized she’d said her name aloud, not until Soren replied, “Hello, princess. I thought you might pay us a visit. Thessa was bound to be seen soon, though I suppose that’s my fault for flying so low.”
Cion was still on her knees when she rasped, “How?”
“Ana told you, I presume,” Vane said quietly, offering her a hand.
She took it gratefully—her right knee had been a bother since she turned forty-five. Then, clearing her throat, she said, “Yes. She only spoke of it once, and when she heard news that Thessilnn was spotted flying, she… Well, I cannot properlycommunicate her level of shock. She claimed it was impossible, and from what she told me of that day, I agree. It should be.”
“Do you want to come inside?” Soren asked. “Sit down or?—”
“No,” Cion cut in sharply. “I want an explanation.”
