Page 103 of Beautiful Beast

Idroal smiled. “But the details of this don’t even begin to answer your questions, so I’ll tell you this. When the sheyten fell on Viria, they changed everything. Charged with power that was not of this world, they fell and burned their way into the earth. As nature is likely to do, it called to what was similar. Dragons and their fire. Some humans too, whether they were near something burning or had a talent for molding flame.”

“Like a smith?”

“Yes. Like that. The sheyten’s power changed this world. They are the source of the small magics humans can perform through the natural arts, the source of the rare human mage, and the source of the dragons’ power. I suspect also they are the reason we have two forms. When the power ran through this world it bound everything together. Human. Dragon. Magic. Nature itself. We are all a part of the same system. Things which belonged to humans—your form—were given to us. Things which belonged to dragons—unnatural colors, immunity to fire, other small magics—were given to the humans.”

I pulled a piece of my hair away from my head to look at it in the sunlight. It was always strange, and people wondered. But it was so strange that people questioned it. “I am part dragon?”

They chuckled softly. “No, Lena. You are not. Your gifts are simply a remnant of Viria’s remaking. But because everything was mixed, matched, and pulled together, matings could then occur even across the species. It was discovered long before your own mates were born. Someone not unlike you was working with a dragon and was burned by dragonfire. A mating bond clicked into place. And though I was not alive either, I am told it was no better accepted than what you’ve seen.”

“I—” No words came. Instead I took a sip of the strong, sweet tea and tried to wrap my head around it. “But fire?”

Spreading their hands wide, Idroal shrugged. “I wish I knew the answer, but I do not. It’s possible the remnants of the sheyten are buried deeper within humans than dragons because of our fiery nature. Perhaps they hold more sentience than we know, and observed we needed a barrier before allowing dragons to mate and take humans.”

“How many?” Endre asked, voice ragged. “How many human mates have there been?”

“I do not know that either. But as I told you before. Even without a mating bond, unions between humans and dragons were not so uncommon before the war. It was a risk. Taboo even then, though we were allies. But there were plenty who did not care.”

“The war.” I said. “Is that true? How it began?”

“Yes. Humans began to believe dragons held too much power, and that they weren’t sharing the magic they could. It began with one man, a king. But he was persuasive. He made people believe the dragons were holding back because they wanted to keep humans beneath their feet, and not simply because there is magic humans cannot control.

“So they attacked a breeding ground and stole the eggs there, hoping to ransom the dragons’ children for magic.”

Clearly, that hadn’t worked.

I’d never seen such raw grief as I saw now on Idroal’s face. “There are simply things humans cannot do with magic. Your bodies are not meant to hold it. We shared what we could, and would have shared more. But we were not holding back simply out of spite, no matter what the tales have been. We couldn’t give what was asked of us, and so they slaughtered those eggs, save the few they decided to take and breed into the monsters they have now.”

If someone truly asked me if I blamed the Elders for wanting humans to go extinct, I didn’t. Humans hadn’t proven ourselves trustworthy, and though I was relieved to be alive, I understood why they were unwilling to give us more chances. No matter if there were humans who felt like I did.

“I am sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

I shook my head. “For what my kind has done to yours.”

Idroal smiled sadly. “You do not bear the blame for that, Lena. No human alive does. And we are fools for not trying once more for peace. The world was better when we were friends.”

Breaking off a small piece of pastry, I fed a little to Varí before asking the next question. There were still so many, but my mind was muddled. More would have to come later. “The land is dying. Why?”

“The sheyten,” Endre said. “Two have been shattered.”

“Because they bound themselves to the world when they fell, the health of Viria and everything in it depends on them. After the war began, humans became convinced that the sheyten were a means to an end by the dragons, placed there to control them. They broke them apart and scattered the pieces. They’re kept in cities and towns, kept secret. But without being whole and keeping magic flowing through the land, it dies.”

I swallowed. “But it can be repaired?”

“We believe so.” Then they shrugged. “We haven’t been able to try. We hope so, or it is not merely humans who are in danger of extinction.”

So it wasn’t simply the areas where the sheyten were broken. If the circle wasn’t complete and whole, everything faded. The stones that were whole merely kept it going longer.

Varí purred loudly, and I fed him more of the pastry, alternating little bites between him and myself. This was a lot. “What happens now?”

Sirrus stood and came around behind me. He rested his hands on his shoulders and dropped a kiss on my head. “How do you mean?”

“Exactly that. What happens now? I’m your mate. I’m a human. Do we pretend all of this isn’t happening and go live in mated bliss in Skalisméra until I die? Do we try to win the Elders over by showing them that I’m not a human who wants to see the end of all dragons? Do we go to the humans with me as an ambassador and try to sue for peace?”

Silence reigned in the courtyard, and none of my three mates were looking at me. Zovai looked so tense he might snap, and Endre’s hands were curled into fists on his thighs. Even Sirrus gripped my shoulders hard.

“What did I say?”

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