Page 125 of No Ordinary Drakeling
“If my dragon is not antsy, be sure and remove the net so Teverild can get some good pictures,” Ellery instructed as he lifted the net to climb under it.
Chrysander had to bite his tongue to prevent his thoughts from escaping. It would be three days before Ellery would feel well enough to shift and let anyone bother him. He simply bobbed his head in agreement as Ellery disappeared under the black dragonskin.
“I love you, Chrys,” he called out as Chrysander took one last look at his living mate, then turned his back to him.
“I love you too.”
Dark and gold light danced across the desert landscape as Chrysander tried not to choke on his fear. He stood under the bright sun and wondered why Fate had done this to them. There was no noise behind him, and Chrysander didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. Was he trying to shift yet, or was there so much healing that he wasn’t suffering at all? Chrysander had expected to hear a shout or cry of pain.
The silence stretched on, and Chrysander had no idea what to do. Was it done? Was his beautiful elf already ripped to shreds or lying on the ground broken? Before he could decide, there was a tugging on the net. It was not gentle, and Chrysander had to plant his feet to keep hold while remaining upright. The dragonskin rustled and curses filled the air as Aleksander and the dukes tried to remain steady.
The wrenching continued, and Chrysander squeezed his eyes shut as he tried desperately not to think of the death battle happening just behind him. For several tense minutes the yanking ensued; then it ceased. In an instant, it stopped. That was when the tears fell. Ellery was gone, and Chrysander was heartbroken. He allowed himself only a moment to grieve. It was up to him to gather what was left of Ellery and light his pyre.
Once that grisly task was complete, he was going to ask Chander to resurrect him as quickly as he could cast the spell. Chrysander dropped the handles of the net and scrubbed away the moisture from his cheeks. His mate had faced death without fear, and he would not succumb to his own emotions. Sucking in a deep breath and forcing himself to lift his lashes, he slowly turned around.
His mouth dropped open as his brain tried to cope with what he was staring at. There was something under the net, and it was large.
“Chrys, you’re scaring me,” Damian called out from next to him where he was positioned. Respecting Ellery’s modesty, no one else had turned. “Do you need help? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Chrysander breathed out.
“Fuck this, I’m turning,” Damian barked as he dropped his hold on the net and whipped around. “What the actual fuck is that?”
Before Chrysander could respond, a petite but infinitely elegant dragon head poked slightly under where the net lay neglected on the ground. His leathery skin was a brilliant white dusted with tiny flecks of gold, and he looked like no beast Chrysander had ever seen.
“Get this fucking net off him,” Damian demanded as Chrysander remained frozen in shock.
The small dragon lay peacefully on the ground as the men surrounding him slowly pulled the net off. He was incredible. Unlike the other Draconis, his ears swept up higher on his head and came to what could only be described as elven points. He had two enormous hoops in his left ear, and scrollwork danced down one side of his lean, graceful face. Much slighter of frame than a traditional dragon, he also had smaller horns, and his were pure gilt.
Instead of common wings, the ones lying against his body were almost leaflike in appearance. His thick claws were the same metallic color as the speckles that decorated his scales.
“What kind of dragon is he?” Costas demanded.
“An elven one,” Damian crowed as he slapped Chrysander’s shoulder, which finally broke him from his trance.
“Ell, you’re stunning,” he offered him.
Two golden eyes narrowed slightly; then he bumped his head against Chrysander, knocking him into the dirt. It didn’t bother Chrysander; he simply laughed as he smoothed a hand over Ellery’s dragon head while he made a growly sound of apology.
“Get Teverild out here,” Damian ordered. “Wait until the world sees Ellery. He’s even prettier than Conley, and I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”
Chrysander got to his feet and continued to pet his mate’s beast. “Leave it to you, Ell. It wasn’t enough to be the first hybrid to survive—you had to go and be a dragon in a color they don’t come in. You’re incredible.”
“What the fuck?” Teverild shouted once they got him outside. “This is the most fucking beautiful dragon I’ve ever fucking seen.”
“Yes, he is. We’re going to need lots of pictures,” Chrysander said, not that the words were necessary. Teverild’s camera was already whirling away.
“You’ve worn black and white your whole life,” Damian pointed out.
“I know. Ell, you’re going to have to shed these scales soon, so we can give everyone new sashes. I want new crowns, and everything else that’s only black will need to be replaced. We also need to rethink how we classify dragon colors. We’ve been wrong. There is no color better than the other, we’re all equal.”
“No, no we’re not,” Zane argued. “At least not when it comes to beauty. Elf here just won the grand prize.”
“I guess we’ll have to believe you the next time you say you can do something impossible,” Chrysander told Ellery; then he stepped back. He wanted Teverild to take some photos without him in them, so everyone could see the stunning and completely unique dragon Fate gave Ellery. He also needed a moment to shake off the stunned disbelief inside him. Chrysander could almost believe he was stuck in an incredible dream, but his imagination wasn’t good enough to dream up such a creature. In dragon form or elven, Ellery was simply too magnificent for words.
