“If I don’t?”
“Then you may not attend. He would prefer it if you did.”
She snatched it from his hand.
Expression impassive, he closed the door.
Stripping off her shirt and jeans, she tossed them on the bed and pulled the dress over her head. She wondered who it I was made for, if anyone in particular. It didn’t quite fit properly. The neckline plunged despite being too snug to look right, and the hem dragged on the floor. Pulling her boots back on under the dress relieved some of the drag.
Before knocking on the door, she grabbed Jori’s t-shirt from where she’d left it neatly folded. She might need it. She prayed she’d be able to control herself this time—vomiting was disgusting.
Clutching the shirt in her hands, she stepped out to follow the young male and several more fell in line as escort. Her stomach rolled at the cloud of male dragon scents. Concentrating on steadying her breathing, she followed, seriously hoping the inconvenient illness would pass.
Kymri was not taken to the same hall they’d been to on their arrival. She was led deeper down into the mountain, arriving at a set of massive wooden doors resembling those at the citadel. Older, more primitive.
The air here was different, colder, and earthier. There was lighting, but the central air system didn’t extend this far down.
Goosebumps skittered over her arms. Her dragon was paying close attention. She was about to enter an ancient space, apart from the living world. This was a space of magic and ritual. Power.
Her queen protected a similar space.
Stepping through the doors, she was led along a torch-lit natural rock corridor, some hewn, the rest mostly natural cave formation.
Her dragon stretched within her, basking in the vibration of the earth feeding her magic, seeking the particular tenor of the minerals. She could visually pick out the striations of the ore. Breathing deeply, as they moved along, she gave her dragon space to absorb the vibrational energy of the ore that glittered in the firelight.
She was surrounded by her element. Her flesh crackled as the power worked its way in toward her bones. The will of her magic pushed at the will of the king’s magic infused into her shackles, but it wasn’t enough.
Another set of doors swung open on silent hinges and she stared into the vastness of the cave at the heart of the mountain. The power was tangible, exhilarating. Her eyes swept the space, taking in the numbers of males attending the event, and the massive dragon dominating view.
Dangerous bone spur spikes jutted from the top of his head and in jagged rows down his back. His eyes were like pools of lava, his scales resembling rippling layers of dried blood.
The king was in dragon form and he was larger than any dragon she’d seen before. Among her own kind, her queen’s dragon was larger than her subjects, as was expected. She swallowed the fear that thrummed through her. This colony was equal to her island’s population, but they were all larger. During the attack, it had taken two or three guardians to fend off each of the three invaders.
This is what her people were now exposed and vulnerable to. She had to find a way to protect her queen and her people. It was what she lived for. She had to find a way.
Kymri’s escort led her right up toward the front of the cave, to the edge of the cleared space where the ceremony was going to happen.
Jori wasn’t here yet, nor was Elora.
Her dragon pushed out, searching for him through their bond, filigree threads reaching for his hidden dragon.
He was near.
Despite his discomfort at moving deeper into the maw of the earth, Jori could not deny the presence of power. It was the power all ancient civilizations spoke of. A place that invited temples and shrines to be erected. A place where gods were created and worshiped. And buried and forgotten.
Stenlen had come for him. Ordered him to strip and don a robe.
He felt ridiculous. Like he was being led to sacrifice for some freaky cult ritual.
This was his chance to make contact with his mother. They wouldn’t allow him to see her until the ritual was complete. Whatever they would do to him, so be it. He’d figure out how to get her and Kymri away from these nutcases afterward.
The massive wooden doors opened. His heart stopped and restarted at a frantic pace, forcing him to struggle against his own instinct to run from danger.
All he could see was the dragon dominating everything, its glittering eyes trained on him. It looked as though it might be smiling, but he couldn’t be sure of the thin reptilian lips stretched over huge pointed teeth, lining a jaw that could crush him whole.
Holy fuck.
Jori curled his hands into fists to hide their tremor and forced deep steady breaths into his lungs.
Something drew his attention away from the predator. A little brush of consciousness. Tentative and gentle. His eyes found Kymri turned toward him, her expression unreadable. The sensation that floated between them increased and his heart rate slowed so that the rushing in his ears eased.
I love you.
His attention turned back toward his biological father, looming before him. Jori walked, alone, out into the open space before the dragon king.
Planting his bare feet on the ice-cold stone floor he didn’t flinch when Stenlen removed the robe from his shoulders, leaving him naked before everyone gathered. He focused on the beast before him, aware of the tether of Kymri’s presence, pushing the extreme sense of vulnerability to the back of his mind. He straightened his spine and set his shoulders.
The only sound in the room was that of the dragon’s slow, steady breathing.
Was there actually some kind of a ritual, or was Jori about to be consumed by this thing?
For all the sticky situations he’d been in over the years, he’d finally met one he didn’t think he’d be able to wriggle out of, scathed or not.
The dragon drew in a long deep breath, pulling at Jori.
His gaze remained forward, his body taut. His thoughts turned again to Kymri, somewhere behind him, standing as witness.
A claw loomed into view, stretching toward him, then swiped across his chest. He jerked against the sudden pain searing his flesh, but he swallowed down the urge to cry out.
The claw sliced the flesh of the dragon’s snout. As the blood welled, Richmund pushed his bleeding snout against Jori’s bleeding chest.
The dragon’s eyes closed.
The air rippled around him - like it had rippled around Kymri when she shifted into her dragon form before him.
He could still feel Kymri’s presence brushing at the back of his neck.
The ripple grew more intense and he could feel the pull toward the dragon. He resisted the urge to learn forward toward it.
Then came a peculiar sensation creeping outward from the fresh wound. It oozed through him, seeking vessels to travel along. The ripple became a buffer around him, slowly blocking out everything but the sensation of the dragon’s essence infusing him.
He didn’t like it.
A deep, guttural growl rose up his throat.
His pulse increased and his mind tried to will the sensation to stop its spread, invading his body. As he did so, the will of the dragon intensified to dominate him, wearing at his resistance.
There was a sudden pop in his mind, and he felt as though he stood on a narrow precipice staring at an abyss. The sense of vertigo was overwhelming as he struggled to catch his breath.
Whispers invaded his thoughts.