Page 97 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“We’re performing the bonding ceremonies for all the life-mates here as well,” he counters. “So it does seem appropriate that the event takes place where so many of us have… bonded.” He says the word in a darkly salacious tone, and I can’t help giggling. But we restrain ourselves from further comment as several of the hatchlings come closer to us, tumbling and tussling in a merry romp.
Hatching season and the following weeks have been busy for everyone, including me. I’ve had to develop some protective tonics for the human women as they deal with the active, enthusiastic love of their dragon babies. Thankfully the hatchlings’ small teeth and tiny claws aren’t very sharp yet, and their spikes and horns are short and stubby, but they can still cause bruises and other injuries to their mothers, or even to their fathers in human form.
The male dragon shifters have taken it upon themselves to teach the little ones caution and gentleness when they’re around human bodies, and for the most part, it’s working. But accidents happen, and it’s my job to ensure that they don’t turn into tragedies.
In the course of my work among the families, I’ve become popular with every hatchling on Ouroskelle. They can all speak both Dragonish and the Eventongue now, and their chatter fills the air. Every so often, a few of them scamper over to me and Ashvelon, clambering over his great forepaws while begging me to do magic. I can never resist their pleas for long, so I make the tree above us flower briefly, even though it’s late summer now and the grove’s flowering season has long passed.
Several paces away, Serylla stands at Kyreagan’s side, one hand on his giant shoulder as they watch their hatchlings scamper through grasses and over the rocks, almost tumbling into the nearest pool. In another three months or so, each tiny dragon will become capable of taking on human form for the first time—and then we’ll be in for a wild ride. I personally haven’t spent much time with human babies, but I’m told they’re a handful. Babies who can shift into dragons will be a fascinating challenge.
“What are you smiling about?” Ashvelon asks me quietly. “You look rather devilishly pleased with yourself.”
“Not at all,” I say primly. “Just thinking about the future. It’s so very promising and interesting.”
He gives me a playful nudge with his wing to tell me that I’m not fooling him one bit.
It’s not that I’m gleeful about the challenges that the new parents of Ouroskelle will face. Notexactlygleeful, anyway, just avidly curious. I’m not apathetic to their struggles; in fact, I’ve been thoughtful with my plans, even more so than they imagine.
I haven’t told anyone about a certain safeguard I put within the spell, mostly because I’m not sure it will work. Ideally the babies should be able to summon a smaller version of their dragon wings even while they’re in human form. The wings will be commensurate with their size as they grow and should prevent any tragic mishaps if they happen to shift while flying. Varex mentioned that he’s been able to summon his wings separatelyfrom his full dragon form, so it seems as if the capability does exist within the framework of the spell, as I intended. I’m excited to witness it when the little ones finally reach their full potential as shifters.
Varex and Jessiva have returned to Ouroskelle. Varex is himself again, and Jessiva looks so vibrant and healthy she’s hardly recognizable as the vicious, furtive creature who snapped at me in the cave after the storm. What happened to her and Varex changed them both and forged a fierce, beautiful bond between them.
Nyreza, the last surviving female dragon, stands among her fellow dragons near her brother Saevel and his mate Nirada. Nyreza’s immunity to magic spared her from my father’s curse, but for reasons that I have not yet been able to fully explore, my widespread enchantment on the dragon species took effect with her, too. I suspect the power of the eclipse gem had something to do with it. Had I not stolen that gem from my father, he would certainly have used it in his great curse; and if he had, Nyreza would be dead, too. As it is, she was spared, and her unique blood was instrumental in saving Serylla from the proximity curse with which Rahzien had bound her.
Nyreza’s scales are bright pink, just like Ashvelon told me. She doesn’t speak much, but a young human sorcerer with black hair is never far from her side, and they converse often in low tones. I’m curious to hear more about how she met him and how their romance developed. I do adore a good love story, as long as it has a decent ending.
Across the nearest pool of the hot spring, Rothkuri and Everelle are laughing over something he said. I look past them to the others, proud that I can name every woman, dragon, and hatchling gathered here on this beautiful morning. These are my people, my family, the ones in whom I’ve invested so much of my magic.
It’s not that they are more worthy than anyone on the mainland—Fate knows they’ve all done twisted things or even terrible things. And yet I have never felt so certain that I am spending my life and my power well, because although the people on this island are imperfect, they are striving. They are working hard, growing together, giving what they can to each other, learning individually and as a group. They are accomplishing something unique and beautiful—the birth of a new species, a new civilization.
All over Ouroskelle, caves have been transformed into multi-room dwellings with railings, carpets, and yes, even some furniture, although we’ve learned through experience that any furniture placed in a dragon’s cave must be sturdy, compact, and placed against the wall, leaving plenty of space for the resident when he’s in dragon form.
Buildings have popped up along the floor of the valley, including a few shops where women sell goods imported from the mainland or crafted by their own hands on Ouroskelle. Commerce with Elekstan remains somewhat tentative, but the new democratic government seems eager to keep working with us to make improvements.
It’s all coming together, and even better—it’s allexciting. Every day brings some new development, some new aspect of life on Ouroskelle. Throughout the day, I’m always working with my hands or my magic. In the evenings, I fuck Ashvelon in some deliciously debauched way and fall into a dead sleep next to him, without needing a strong drink to quiet my brain.
My body and mind feel fresher, healthier, and stronger than they have in a long time.
I breathe in the freshness of the air and relish the feeling of Ash’s scales beneath my palm—smooth gloss and hard edges. My gaze follows Kyreagan and Serylla as they step forward onto a flat stone by the edge of the largest pool. At their advance, themerry noise of the gathered dragons settles into a hushed murmur.
“I think your prince is about to make a speech,” I mutter to Ashvelon. “Why is he looking at me, though?”
Kyreagan’s deep voice carries across the pools, through the arch of the trees overhead. “Enchantress Thelise, we honor you this day.”
“That’s why,” Ashvelon says under his breath. There’s latent humor in his tone.
I glare at him. “Did you know about this?”
His lips curl back over his fangs, a dragonesque smirk, but he doesn’t reply.
Serylla stands beside Kyreagan while their little dragon-daughter leans lovingly against her mother’s leg, staring up at her. Their son is peering at his reflection in the pool, looking as if the sight displeases him greatly.
“Before we begin with the bone-knitting ceremonies and the naming rituals,” Serylla says, “we thought it would be appropriate to show our appreciation to the one who made this possible for all of us. Every one of you has met Thelise. You know her humor, her power, and most of all, her generous heart.”
“In the time of our greatest need, her wisdom outshone my foolish pride,” says Kyreagan. His eyes meet mine: warm, golden, and kind. “Thelise, you spared us from the shame of forcing the women we captured to change their species, an act we would have regretted. You gave us the chance to reproduce. You gifted us with pleasures and experiences we would never have known without you. And because of you, we survived the poison that would have wiped us out. Your magic helped me save Serylla, and your wisdom guided my brother through his darkest days.”
I can barely hold his gaze. My eyes are filling with tears. I need to think of a joke, a sarcastic retort, something. But all I cando is cling to Ashvelon’s shoulder and listen as Kyreagan continues.
“While each dragon and human gathered here has had some beneficial part to play in the events of the past months, yours is the crowning achievement. As a clan, we recognize you. We respect you. And we present you with a gift—the greatest one we could think of.”
