Page 56 of Heart Cradle
When they finally stepped outside, the air was warmer but the breeze still cool against Maeve’s skin. Xelaini waited in a clearing just beyond the village, lounging in the grass like a sleeping cat, her great wings half-spread and eyes slitted in contentment.
“I ate,”she said in Maeve’s mind, a satisfied hum in her voice.“Three bucks and a very nasty boar. He tasted nice, though.”
Maeve laughed and said, “a productive morning, then.”
Eiran pulled her close before they climbed back into the saddle. His kiss was slow, unhurried and tongue teasing. Lips brushing hers like he was tasting the memory of earlier again. Her hands slid up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, anchoring herself to him.
“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth.
Her breath caught, heart stuttering. “You said that already.”
Eiran just grinned, dimples and all.
“Hmm,” she hummed, kissing him again. “You’ll regret it if you start saying that too often.”
“Not a chance. Never, love.”
They mounted Xelaini again, Maeve sliding into the saddle with slightly more confidence this time. Eiran’s arm wrapped around her waist as they lifted into the air, the village shrinking beneath them. Having stopped to deliver the medicine, they returned to Elanthir Keep with the sun high and the shadows short, the towers loomed ahead, regal and stoic.
Home.
She couldn’t remember a time she thought of somewhere as a home, where people waited for her return.
Chapter Twenty-Three – Emberwick
Maeve gulped at the sight of another dragon waiting on the rooftop landing pad, smaller than Xelaini but still massive, sleek and striking. His scales shimmered like a bed of glowing embers, orange and copper braided with lines of crimson. His tail was furred, thick and expressive, twitching lightly as they landed. The sunlight danced across his body, catching on the delicate network of interlocking plates that shimmered like volcano-forged armour. Eiran slipped down first, then helped her dismount. She barely registered her hand in his, her eyes were fixed on the young dragon.
Xelaini’s voice echoed through mind-talk.“This is Jeipier, my youngest hatchling. He was laid during the first thaw after the war ended. He wished to meet you.”
The dragon’s head dipped low with surprising grace and all Maeve could do was blink, stunned.
Xelaini continued, her tone like warm smoke.“Jeipier cannot speak to you directly, not just yet. He is unpaired, and so the bond between dragon and fae is unformed, but he did ask me to assist.”
Maeve glanced at Eiran, who offered a small nod, his expression soft.
“He would like to be your pair,”Xelaini went on.“He pledges his service and friendship to you, in return for yours.”
Maeve’s breath left her in a rush. “Me?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “But…why me? We’re not even…he’s a dragon. I’m not even fae or royalty.”
Eiran stepped closer, touching her lower back, supporting her. “You don’t need to be fae. Pairings don’t follow rules like species. They follow heart, and you’ll be royal soon enough.” He smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Any species of dragon can hatch any species. It depends on the environment, the magic levels, the lineage, and Jeipier, he’s an Emberwick.”
“Fire and heat?” she whispered, eyes flicking back to the blazing creature.
Eiran nodded. “And more. His lineage includes Xelaini and Brontis, Soren’s pair. That makes him unique. He’ll be powerful and special.” He leaned in slightly. “Perfect for my mate.”
Her chest ached. From awe and disbelief, from the quiet swell of something she didn’t have a name for. Jeipier stepped forwards slowly, his bright amber eyes locked on hers. Maeve didn’t know what to do, but her body moved before her thoughts could catch up. She placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head low, an instinct, maybe, or something deeper etched into her bones. She raised her gaze and said clearly, “It would be my pleasure to care for you and to call you my friend.”
There was a rush of air, then Jeipier flamed, a controlled burst of heat and light into the sky, the fire curling up in a spiral of joy. Maeve felt the heat on her face, her chest, and then he charged. She gasped, stepping back instinctively as the dragon barrelled towards her, wings half-spread. He stopped just short of colliding, chuffing softly, his snout nearly brushing her chest. Maeve’s hand reached for him without hesitation, landing against the warm, vibrant scales at his neck. She felt the surge of their paired bond. It roared through her blood like fire and starlight and home. A tether between hearts, between spirits. They were paired, just like that.
Bonded to a fae, paired with a dragon, and linked to a Chain.
She turned to Eiran, brow raised. “And how exactly am I meant to fly him? With the power of stubbornness?”
Eiran grinned, totally unfazed. “Already commissioned, love. I thought ahead.”
Her smile was automatic, tone even, but something in her chest tightened. Commissioned, without her knowing. Planned in advance, another thing done around her, for her, not with her. She nodded at the three of them, still chatting like it was all perfectly natural. Like this didn’t feel, just for a second, like being left out of her own story.
“I’m going to freshen up,” she said quickly. “Wind messed with my hair.”
