Page 18 of Devoted to the Dragon

“I’ll think about it. But what if I’m wrong about them being my mates? What if they wait for me and I awaken for other wolves? Or never awaken?”

“Don’t you think they should be the ones to choose whether or not they wait, knowing the facts?” she asks softly.

“Maybe. My dragon is nervous. She keeps sending me a warning, telling me something is coming. Something dark that, once it awakens, can’t be undone.”

“That sounds creepy and ominous. Can’t she just spell it out?” Vandera asks.

“You wanna try asking her?” I huff.

“Your dragon doesn’t like me either. She barely lets me in here,” Vandera jokes.

She isn’t wrong. My dragon is still pissed at her for the first time she shaved my horns to use for a spell. My dragon hisses in indignation so loudly in my mind that a laugh tumbles out.

She doesn’t like that either, and I lose myself to laughter as I try to explain. “She says that’s what you get for calling her agood girland petting her like a common dog.”

Vandera nudges me off her with a shove to my shoulder. “Ahh! Your steamy nostrils, woman! And I can’t help it that she’s so stinking adorable.”

I collapse beside her, giggle-drunk after being nearly delirious.

Vandera jumps up, her bangles jingling as she rights her flowing skirt. “You stay there, and I’ll be right back.”

I hear her moving toward the small kitchen and the kettle coming to a boil, but I don’t move. The malachite catches my eye again, and I turn my head to finally give in to the temptation to stare at it. The crystal is still encased in the rock my mother reaped it from, the little pointy specks glinting in the moonlight. I study how the ombré of deep green fades into a translucent seafoam, which reminds me so much of my mother's scales that it aches.

Vandera plops back down beside me, holding out a plate. “Sandwiches from Henry and a tea to help you get some sleep.”

I sit up and dig into the first sandwich without even tasting it. My stomach protests how fast I inhale it, but I can’t stop. I’m suddenly ravenous.

I take a sip of my tea, practically choking when Vandera says, “The circle you need to form is the Moon.”

“No,” I splutter.

“Yes,” she insists.

“It’s too dangerous. What if my dragon doesn’t awaken but the circle calls Fennik’s or Gunnar’s rut? Gunnar hasn’t trained long enough. He could turn. We don’t know how a half wolf will respond, and Fennik is getting older.”

Vandera counters, “What if your dragon needs the ceremony of the Moon Circle to awaken? You haven’t used the circle since before I came, and now two of your mates are here. The malachite is practically begging us to take it off the shelf. And if you prepare it now, it will be ready by the time you return from the Council.”

I open my mouth to protest.

“You know I’m right. I get you’re scared, but at least give your guys a chance.”

I throw my head back, torn.

“Finish the tea. Take a nap. I’ll clean up here, but I need to head back before the bar opens so I can tattoo your new wolf.”

“Already?” I ask incredulously. I’m shocked that Fennik believes Gunnar is ready for the mark that means he’s a full member of my personal guard. He hasn’t even finished the Frenzy training with me yet.

“Fennik says he needs time to adjust to it before you leave, and the added power will help with training.”

I let out a heavy sigh, looking around at the mess. I’m unconvinced that we’re ready for what’s coming. The tattoo. The trip to the Council. My dragon’s warning. The Moon Circle. But I can feel the malachite calling to me.

My dragon offers no guidance, retreating into the recesses of my mind like she has been for days any time I’m not flying. I guess I wore her out.

“I’ll talk to them.”

Vandera holds open her arms. “Come on. It can wait until after you’ve had a nap. Let’s snuggle until the tea kicks in.”

I let her pull me into my inner chamber. The room is wide and circular, with glittering exposed gemstone walls, low ceilings, and furs lining the floors in soft heaps. I crawl into the nest, my eyes heavy. Vandera snuggles against my back, her fingers brushing through my hair as she sings one of the old songs I taught her.

---