Page 5 of Captured in Love
We might not make it through this task alive.
Two
Isak
The heavy summerrain beats down on the surface of the restless sea, each drop creating a tiny splash as it gets lost in the vastness of the ocean. I lie on my back, my wings outstretched on either side of me, my exposed belly bobbing just above the waves. I swish my tail through the water and correct my course to let the tide take me closer to my sister’s house.
Okay, I’ll admit, I’m stalling. The conversation I’m about to initiate is long overdue, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be pleasant.
I flop over and propel myself forward, treading water with my webbed feet. Sea dragons are perfectly suited to swimming, and I missed this so much while in Egypt. Even drinking gallons of saltwater every day hadn’t mitigated the ever-present headaches caused by the ultra-dry air and distance from the water. Yesterday’s swim in the Nile hadn’t helped much, either—the river had been so dirty, I’d barely dared to breathe through my gills.
But this…nothing compares to swimming in our family’s bay. The unique blend of the cool seawater and the fresh water coming into the fjord from the waterfall higher up the valley finally feels like home.
I picked up my car from the airport parking lot where I’d left it a week ago and drove to my house. Knowing that I should report to my sister immediately didn’t even matter to me at that point. After all the recycled air and bad food I’d suffered on the endless plane rides home and in airports, I had to take a swim immediately.
Now, hours later, I slither as close to our village pier as I can without snapping any of the mooring ropes and shift into my human body. Cold rushes in, a sensation I never even register in my dragon form. Still, it’s refreshing in a way that humans don’t understand—they’d get hypothermic fast, even in June.
I climb onto the wooden deck and find the waterproof chest stuffed with old clothes that the clan members keep there for just such moments. I drag on a flannel shirt that’s seen better days and a pair of sweats with a hole in one knee. Not exactly attire fit for an audience with the queen, but then Tinna always insisted our family is exempt from the rules.
The sun doesn’t set until much later in the day during the summer, but the overcast sky and the pouring rain make for a gloomy atmosphere as I trudge up the dark gravel road leading from the marina to the largest building in the village. Unlike most Icelandic settlements, ours is mostly built of stone, not wood, because, well, we’re dragons. And if we get overexcited, we tend to shift, even on dry land—or breathe fire. Our ancestors learned the hard way that wooden houses are wasted on dragonkind.
The large front door of our clan’s throne hall is closed against the weather, so I grab the ornate wrought-iron handle shaped like a dragon’s head and pull it open. And stop on the threshold. Screaming and shouting echoes from the gray stone walls and the thick rafters, the voices shrill and agitated.
“She hit me first!” screams Klara, Tinna’s eldest daughter.
Dana, the four-year-old, scrunches up her face and turns a deeper shade of pink. “No, I didn’t!”
“Yes you did, you—” Klara screams back. The air around her shimmers suddenly, and she pops into her sea dragon form, ripping through her cute outfit. Her wiry sage-green body thumps to the floor, her silvery wings shooting out and fluttering uselessly in the air.
“That’s enough!” Tinna, my sister and the queen of all Icelandic sea dragon clans, yells at her daughters and plucks Dana into her arms, preventing the girl from climbing on her sister’s back and riding her like a pony.
I squeeze my lips together to keep from laughing. I know neither Tinna nor the girls would appreciate it, and since I come with bad news anyway, I don’t want to add to their agitation.
“Little brother!” Kiran’s voice echoes through the hall, and all eyes turn to me.
I face my brother and give him a curt nod in greeting. His lips twist in an expression that’s more a grimace than a smile, and his pale-blue eyes, so like mine, remain cold. I force my temper under control, then look back at Tinna, who settles onto a couch with a squirming Dana in her lap.
“Isak,” she greets me, her expression betraying her relief. A small golden diadem glitters in her blonde hair in place of our rightful crown.
Well, at least someone’s genuinely happy to see me.
Jón, Tinna’s husband of more than ten years, approaches Klara and quietly coaxes the little dragoness back into her human form. He drapes a soft robe around the sobbing girl’s shoulders and leads her from the throne room, promising her fresh salmon for a snack. He’s a great dad and devoted husband, but he’s never been interested in our family squabbles or clan politics. Which is just as well. The three of us are plenty explosive on our own.
“I didn’t know you’ve returned,” Tinna says. “How was Egypt?”
I glance up at the stone dais and the massive carved block of dark basalt that serves as the throne. “Eventful.”
Kiran hobbles closer on crutches, only one leg still wrapped in plaster, and thumps down next to Tinna, so I’m left standing in front of them. Tinna frowns at Kiran but doesn’t comment, distracted by Dana’s antics. Sighing, I pull up an armchair from the other end of the sitting area and settle in it. After that long swim and zero sleep in the past twenty-four hours, my body needs rest, even if my mind is buzzing.
“Did you get the token?” Kiran asks, leaning forward.
I nod. “An obsidian scarab.”
“Give it to me,” he says. “I need it to finish the competition.”
Ah, brother.
Instead of replying, I look over at Tinna. “Maybe you should take Dana to Jón as well. You won’t want her present for this talk.”
