Page 49 of Dragons' Future

“That was never a concern,” Cyril said firmly. He gave it one more moment’s thought then clasped the male’s forearm. “Thank you. And swift winds.”

Darren nodded, then held his hand out to Leesandra, whose body had gone taught with dread from the moment Darren proposed his plan. Now, the young woman pulled herself together with admirable grace and stood, the hatchling still cradled to her

“There is one thing I’d ask you to do before I leave though,” Darren said, splitting his attention between Cyril and Kit. “Give your hellion a name. It’s ridiculous how everyone keeps calling her the hatchling.”

Kit’s eyes widened deliciously. “Umm…”

"I have a name for her,” Cyril said.

“You do?” Kit and Leesandra said together, with equal suspicion. What, did they think he was unqualified to propose a name?

“I do,” Cyril said, pulling Kit’s back against his chest. All the curves of her body fit perfectly against him. "The hatchling’s name is Lilith."

Kit inhaled, but it was the pleasure that flowed through the bond between them that told Cyril he’d hit the mark.

“Lilith,” Kit echoed.

“Lilith is perfect,” said Leesandra.

The newly named Lilith perked up in Leesandra’s arms and blinked her large ruby red eyes at Kit.

“Want to come here?” Disengaging from Cyril, Kit held out her arms for the dragon.

The little beast hopped to the floor instead, her wings flapping ineffectually all the way down. Cyril dreaded the moment Lilith would learn to use those wings for flight. Apparently unhappy with where she ended up, Lilith opened her mouth to emit an ear splitting shriek.

Cyril narrowed a stern gaze at her. “That is not how we communicate.”

Lilith swung her snout toward him, then away. And then belched a torrent of flame at the curtains.

The thin, flower patterned cloth caught fire immediately—to Lilith’s happy coos.

Cyril swore and grabbed a jug of water, using his magic to guide the liquid to the flame.

Kit grabbed Lilith off the floor. "No belching fire or you live outside."

"You can't put a baby outside," Leesandra protested as Lilith tried to belch flame again. This time Kit managed to grab the pup’s mouth and hold it shut, so only a few puffs of smoke came out.

“That,” Cyril pointed, "that isn't a baby, it’s a hellhound." His heart pounded. “I’m starting to think our whole theory of the dragons’ demise is incorrect. Maybe it had nothing to do with the Order of Orion. Maybe it was that everything dragon hatchlings do is incompatible with life—theirs, and their parents’.”

CHAPTER 28

Kit

“What massacre happened here?” a familiar female voice exclaims from the doorway a week later, pulling Cyril and me from where we’ve been busy scrubbing deer blood from the cottage walls.

“Autumn! You came.” I wipe my hands quickly and rush to greet her—though I’m embarrassingly underdressed in a stained shirt. The Slate Court princess, on the other hand, looks like an imp from the ocean depth, with her flowing turquoise pants and a matching top that leaves her midriff bare. The image is made even more stunning by the blue and green locks now accenting her hair and the delicate jeweled ring at her navel. The stone winks in the remaining sunlight. It, like the rest of Autumn, is beautiful.

Yet all I can think about is how attractive that ring would be to Lilith’s sharp teeth.

“Of course I came. A chance to see a hatchling and chat with?—”

I catch sight of Agatha standing behind Autumn and give the princess a quick shake of my head. To my relief, Autumn changes the course of her sentence midstride.

“- with you. It’s me who is grateful to be here. But truly,” worry touches Autumn’s usually laughing eyes, “did something happen here?”

“Cyril boy insisted the hatchling needs meat,” Agatha tells her tightly. “He offered Lilith a plate of raw deer strips.”

And in the carnage that followed, the whole cottage turned bloody. None of us know whether Lilith ate any of her dinner or just painted the walls with it. Cyril rubs his palm over the back of his head, his shiny blue scales turning a shade of purple at the tips.

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