Page 104 of Entwined

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Liz

That flaming idiot. The very second his horrible brother shows up, he outs the secret he’s kept for so many years I don’t even know how long it’s been. It’s a secret that could put him in grave danger—especially now that only the weak half of himself survived.

After he divulges it, the dragons that have gathered—dozens of earth dragons, a few more water dragons, and even two electro dragons—freeze, turning slowly to wait for Hyperion’s reaction.

I wait, too, tensed and nervous.

Will he attack to see how weak his brother is now? Will he embrace him? Or will he do something else entirely, something I can’t even imagine? I sense Axel’s apprehension along the bond—it’s a stormy grey.

But then, Hyperion, who has been utterly still, starts to laugh.

Dragons don’t really laugh. I’ve heard it only a handful of times. . .but apparently Hyperion didn’t get the memo. He’s not just laughing. He’s completely falling apart with laughter.

Suddenly, as quickly as it began, he snatches me around the waist, wrapping his talons tightly, and launches into the sky. All the times Azar shot into the air without warning prepared me, and I don’t even vomit in my mouth. Of course, it could be the fact that, in the past week, I’ve had hardly anything to eat, but I’m proud of keeping my composure.

Being among the humans so much has clearly warped his brain, Hyperion says. As if I’d ever believe a lie that idiotic.

It’s a relief, really, that he thought Axel was kidding.

Did Azar—he chokes up a little, I think—ever tell you about the prophecy?

“You mean the one where he was chosen to save all of you?”

Hyperion’s snort this time shoots flames at least three feet out in front of us. Trust Azar to tell you only his part of the story.

“There’s more?”

I was first hatched, you know, to his last hatch. I was the very first egg to hatch after our departure from Earth.

“I knew you were older.” We’re headed for the volcano, clearly, but for some reason, Hyperion isn’t in a hurry. Either that, or his top speed is quite a bit slower than Azar’s. From what I’ve seen, that’s not likely to be right. So clearly, he has something he wants to tell me without an audience.

Not just older. I was the first subject of a prophecy from that crazy oracle, the one who died when we left—Freya.

“Wait, the oracle who prophesied about you and Azar was named Freya, and your dad’s named Odin?”

Hyperion grunts, picking up a little speed. Apparently my questions are irritating.

“Those are the names of two Norse gods,” I say, “who were supposed to be married.”

There’s no way my father would have abandoned his mate, even if she was crazy.

“Why’d you leave in the first place, if the prophecies said you’d return?”

Father vowed we wouldn’t ever return, but the oracle was the only blessed who dared disagree with him. She told him that his departure was doomed, and that his first-hatched son would be the one to destroy all the blessed.

Oh, shoot. That’s a pretty awful prophecy to have hanging over your head from the day you hatch. “I’m sorry,” I say. “But for what it’s worth, it doesn’t seem to be true.” At least, not any truer than her claim that Azar would save them. That’ll be hard to do, given that he’s been destroyed.

Everyone else thinks that, anyhow.

My father attempted to kill me several times, Hyperion says.

“Are you kidding?” I try to lean away from his massive talon-grip so I can see his face, but he’s too huge. His head’s just too far away for me to make out any part of his expression from here.

It’s not a jest. He’s silent for a moment, and the volcano appears out in front of us. Instead of dropping to prepare for a landing, he starts to circle. Azar’s water blessed nanny, Euphrasia, stood between my father and me long before Azar was ever hatched and asked my father whether he was sure that his murder of his first-hatched wouldn’t bring the destruction that was promised.

The same dragon who saved Azar also saved Hyperion?

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