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One strong enough to protect us from dragon fire.

I can feel my Mate’s powerful form at my back, and it bolsters my courage.

This maneuver is one we’ve practiced a thousand times, but never outside of training. Thank the Fates I have a Mate who insists on dedicating a significant portion of our week to training for eventual combat.

As I stare down the never-ending funnel of white-hot flames battering against my shield, I send up a prayer of thanks that I was born with such a large well of power. Normally I loathe my Highborn status, but this moment makes all the bullshit worth it.

My shield holds against the torrent of flame, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe. I’m powerful, but not powerful enough to form a shield large enough to cover us completely. Right now, the flame is forced to curve around and above the bubble protecting us, but it won’t last forever.

Worse, I can’t close the shield completely. It’s protecting about ninety percent of us, but there’s an opening at my back. Which means we’re vulnerable. Exposed to the elements.

Unfortunately, that means we’re both subjected to the heat of the flames. And, Fates, I don’t remember younglings being this strong. These flames blast around my shield and shoot at least twenty feet behind us. A glance over my shoulder reveals nothing but scorched Earth where green grass and flowers were just moments before. Even a few trees are gone, reduced to nothing but smoking, blackened stumps and smoldering ruins.

I am really, really regretting this three-piece navy blue velvet suit. The heat of the flames is so incredible I feel like I’m being baked alive. Sweat drips down my face and back in rivulets. My red hair—meticulously styled after an hour spent getting it just right just moments ago—is plastered to my temples and brow. My eyes are so Fatesdamned dry I have to squint just to see anything.

“What the fuck, Asterion?” Oneric snarls, and his angry tone has my eyebrows shooting into my hairline.

“Me? What the fuck? What did I do? I don’t even know what’s happening!”

“Allow me to break it down for you,” he snaps, lifting his shoulder to wipe a river of sweat off his face. “The Last Daughter—you know, the girl you’ve spent hours almost every day since the day she was born so you’d know literally everything about her? Remember her?”

“It sounds familiar,” I grimace, already knowing where he’s going.

“Turns out… despite watching all sixty-plus of them die over the span of an afternoon, she somehow managed to Bond a fucking dragon.”

“Wow, that’s wild…”

“Isn’t it? Wanna hear something even more wild?”

“No, thank you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the sound of the seven-hundred-degree flames four inches away from my face,” he shouts. “Which leads to my next wild fact: We’re maybe seven minutes from concluding the first-ever Cross-Realm Diplomatic Mission—of which the Fate of four species and an entire planet’s survival hinges upon going well—in the belly of a creature who shouldn’t exist!”

“Yes, well, this is no picnic for me, either,” I shout back, grunting as I strain to reinforce our shield.

How is this hatchling so strong? Will this fire never end?

Oneric sighs. “Fates, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. I just don’t know how we’re going to get out of this.”

“Wanna know the worst part?”

“Dying?”

“Dying in this suit! Do you have any idea how long it took for Ralodix to find velvet? Three years and seven months!”

I can feel my Mate’s shoulders shaking as he tries, and fails, to suppress his laughter.

“Oh, Fates! Dragon fire, Asterion! Focus. I love you, but you have absolutely no self-preservation instincts; it’s uncanny.”

My arms are starting to tremble under the strain of keeping our shield up, but I don’t want to worry my Mate.

“What do you want me to do? I’m open to literally any suggestions,” I reply, praying he has some idea. Even if it’s stupid, I’ll try it. Anything is better than standing here waiting to die.

“Anything would be an improvement over spiraling about your wardrobe,” he laughs, but the sound is strained. He’s as worried as I am.

Outside of my power level and fighting ability, I really only have one talent. It’s partly what got me this position in the first place—a position which, like my charm, was inherited from my father.

This is a diplomatic mission, after all. Guess it’s time to be… well… a diplomat.