Page 23 of A Story of Mates and Temptation

“No!” I try to get to Luna, but I can’t move my feet. “You lost your chance. Fuck you! Die in the fucking pages of that book and?—”

“This is your future,” the voice hisses in my mind as it cuts me off.

Then I’m not in the room anymore. I’m somewhere else and I’m sitting on a throne in a strange castle, with views over a massive city I’ve never seen. Emyr is beside me, a small child perched on his lap on his own throne that towers over mine. The boy hasbright red hair, red eyes, silver fangs slipping from his teeth, and a coldness that no child should ever have at a young age. I don’t know how old he is, but there’s no doubt—he is my child and Emyr’s, too. Fear makes my throat clamp up, and I glance down at myself. Thick gold chains bind my wrists, and they have cut into my skin. My hands have burn marks over the place where my dragon marks once were, and instead there are bite mark scars all up my arms. I’m wearing a sheer, flowy red dress, and my stomach is swollen.

Pregnant.

No.

It’s cruel to see this, and I know I can’t get pregnant. My infertility is why I ended up a blood slave in the first place, and even when it’s Emyr’s, even when it’s not something I want, I touch the lump while looking at the little boy. My son. He is so beautiful, and looking at him is seeing my own features in a way I didn’t know was possible. A sinking, dreading feeling pools inside me as I realise Emyr is king now, and that means we lost the war. How did I get here? Why was I fighting in the first place? My eyes lift to the night sky—to the shining moon hanging in the stars.

No.

I remember who I am. I am Story Dehana and I have never given up. Even to a cruel vision like this. The children are not real, and hot tears fall down my cheeks as I turn from the boy and scream at the top of my voice. Everything fades and darkness swallows me whole. Thick arms wrap around me, yanking me backward, and I gasp as a door slams shut with a violent bang. Ziven’s handsome face comes into view slowly as my eyes adjust, and he is cupping my face. “Storm, talk to me!”

I blink rapidly, barely able to register what’s happening. “Luna—she’s injured,” I manage to say. The box is on the floor by my head, and Ziven sits me up, pulling me into his lap, kissing the top of my head as my heart races. Daegan is staring at the box, his back pressed against the door as he shakes. “I’m okay. Get the box, Ziven.” I turn to see Calix carrying Luna out of the room, her limp body in his arms.

“She’s alive,” Daegan tells me, snapping out of it as Ziven picks up the box. “She needs a healer. What happened in there?”

I rush out after Calix and Luna, knowing Ziven is following close behind, and I don’t have it in me to explain it to Daegan right now. We cut straight through town, heading toward Catherine’s mother’s house behind Calix.

Catherine is already there and her mother is already examining Luna when I come into the hut. Her mother doesn’t look up. “Unless you need healing too, my majesty, please step out so I can work. Everyone out.”

“I’m not leaving her,” Calix says firmly, settling into a chair in the corner. “Tell me how she is and if you need anything.”

I want to apologise to him. This was all my fault. “I’ll wait outside.” I barely close the door behind me before I burst into tears, and Ziven is there, pulling me into his arms. He holds me through my tears until I can breathe again, until I can calm down. “We’re on our own. The deities aren’t helping us. In fact, they deserve to rot in their pages forever at the bottom of the sea.”

He tilts my chin up. “You are not at fault. Luna chose to go with you, and she decided to take that risk. When she wakes, she won’t want you blaming yourself.”

I know he is right, but the guilt is still there as we wait hours for Calix to come out and tell me she is awake. “All her ribs are broken; she has internal bleeding, but she will live. Luna wanted me to tell you both to go back home and that she doesn’t blame you, Story.” His gaze hardens on me. “But don’t ask her to go near those books again. She is done. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I whisper, understanding. His eyes soften and he comes over, hugging me under Ziven’s gaze before going back to Luna.

Maeve’s voice drifts into my mind, warm and steady. “Don’t worry. You don’t need any deities when you’ve got a dragon to fight your war. I am with you.” I exhale, feeling the fire deep inside my chest. I can fly again.

Chapter Twelve

Page Twelve. The rebellion is being hunted. We will make one last stand in hopes the deities guide us.

Iwince as Ziven takes down ten more fae volunteers to be riders. Without the Decidere to weed out the weak, Ziven doesn’t have a choice but to test the riders with actual dragons, and the shadow dragons are mean. They are not used to fae at all, and they do not want riders, as Ziven explained to me. He took six fae males earlier—only two of them managed to ride dragons. I don’t need Ziven to tell me what happened to the other four, because we heard the screams. The trials are not going well, but none of us suspected they would do.

Every day that we train down here, every single day, thousands of fae are dying. It makes me feel sick to my stomach at the thought of their deaths, but I know we are not ready, and without more riders, we will fail. We are the last hope of every single fae out there, and it’s a lot of pressure for us all to handle. After yesterday, with the failure of the books, we could have used a better outcome on the first day of the trials. Maeve telling meshe’s ready to fly again is the only thing keeping me from sinking into despair. At least with her, I’ll be able to fly and fight next to Ziven. Be useful. Avaluna is recovering, but it will be a long road and she will not be leaving her bed for weeks. Calix knows that means he will have to leave her to fly with us, and I know he doesn’t want to do that.

I sit at the edge of the cliff with Hettie, who is finishing off a painting of a dragon, a dragon with streaks of silver scales and green eyes. “Where did you see that dragon, Hettie?”

“In my dreams at dusk,” she answers, looking up at me. “I’m painting it for Luna. She loves dragons like me!”

I touch her light hair. “She does. Are you going there after lunch with my mum?”

“I’ve made dear Luna an herb tonic to help her sleep.” My mum’s voice comes to my ear, and I tilt my head back to see her coming over. Hettie jumps to her feet and runs to her, hugging her and holding the painting up behind her back. I turn to the cliff, feeling Maeve coming closer, and I pull out my new black clothes with red stitching. “Those are lovely,” my mum tells me.

“Ziven made them for me. He knows my hands get cold in the sky,” I explain to my mum and smile. “Now step back with Hettie.”

Hettie squeals in excitement as she steps back with my mum, whose eyes widen at the dragon who swoops up over the cliff behind me, the flapping of her wings sending my hair braid floating off my shoulder and dust into the air. Maeve soars high above us, and several people scream as she dives around the edges of the town. Even if they are used to dragons, she isenormous. Her red scales reflect the light, and I run my eyes over her wings, noting the scar on one side—but it’s fully healed.

“Like you. Broken but healed. A survivor who can fly.”

“You’re beautiful, Maeve,” I tell her in my head and out loud too.

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