No matter. I'll not cross it. I'll stay on my throne of dragons. A trio of--
Scales moved under her outstretched hand. She pressed her fingers against the dragon whelp's flank as it seemed to twitch.
That would be odd, wouldn't it? If I woke a dragon in spite of everything.
She tried not to giggle at the thought. That's what she wanted to do--giggle as she'd not done since she'd last drunk too much honey wine. That was how she felt, floating there.
Of course, she was simply hallucinating the movement. The dragon was still cold.
Cold . . .
Dragons . . . snakes . . . lizards. What did they have in common? Beasts whose blood ran cool. Lizards lay in the sun to warm themselves because they were not naturally warm-blooded.
Interesting . . .
She rolled her head to the side. Her eyes closed, as if the effort of keeping them open took too much strength. Ashyn cried out. Hands flew to Moria's throat--not Ashyn's soft fingers, but rough ones, pressing hard. Then other hands, on her shoulders, trying to rouse her even as Gavril growled to stop shaking her.
She opened her eyes to see the face of a dragon. And Tyrus's above it, watching her anxiously, exhaling in relief when her eyes opened.
"The dragon . . ." she whispered. "It moves."
"She's in shock," Gavril said. "Tyrus, I know you're worried, but get back."
"No." Moria fumbled for Tyrus's hand and pressed it to the dragon's side. "Do you feel that?"
When she looked into his eyes, she swore his warm brown irises turned to amber, the round pupils to slits.
"Your dragon," she whispered.
"She's hallucinating," Gavril said. "Tyrus, get back."
"I'm not in your way," Tyrus snapped. Then he turned to her. "Tell me about the dragon, Moria. Keep talking. Focus on me."
"She does not have the strength--" Gavril began.
"He's keeping her calm." The snap in Ashyn's voice startled Moria. It also shut Gavril up.
"Tell me about the dragon, Moria," Tyrus said.
She smiled up at him and watched his eyes shift from human to dragon and back again. She saw images, like memories, real and solid, and when she spoke, it was as if she heard words not her own.
"I see dragons and I see empires," she said. "I see you and I see your dragon and I see your empire. I see blood and I see fire and I see peace. I see you on the imperial throne and I see a dragon at your gate, a huge and beautiful snow dragon."
"And you?"
When she didn't answer, he bent forward, blocking her view of the dragon, his eyes right above hers, still flickering from human to dragon, both forms dark with worry.
"Moria, tell me that you see yourself. That you are there. With me."
She smiled. "Of course. I'll always be there for you. You will have an empire, and you will have dragons."
"And I will have you."
Before she could reply, she went still, pressing Tyrus's hand against the dragon whelp. His eyes widened, and she smiled. "I'm not hallucinating, am I?"
"The dragon," Tyrus breathed. "Moria's blood."
Hands together, they pressed the dragon whelp's side as it heaved with slow heartbeats and slower breaths. One foreleg twitched. Then the clawed foot clenched and unclenched.
"It wakes!" Gavril said. "Tyrus, get back now!"
The whelp opened one eye. Tyrus turned, and that was the first thing the dragon saw: his face.
As it should be.
Moria smiled, that floating feeling washing through her now, liquid warmth that made her head swim. She saw Tyrus, and she saw the dragon, and she saw them reflected in each other's gaze.
"Tyrus, move away now." Gavril's voice was low with warning. Tension and fear clouded his face, and he held his sword raised. Seeing that made a little of the euphoria fall away as the world became brighter, clearer.
Moria blinked. The dragon caught the movement and looked at her, and she met its gaze and looked into its eyes. For a moment, she fell back into those strange visions, those images. Blood and fire and then victory and peace.
Not now, a voice seemed to whisper in her ear. That is not now.
Of course it was not, because the Tyrus she saw in the images was no boy, nor the dragon a whelp.
And where was she in that vision? That's what Tyrus had asked, and the truth was that she did not see her place. She knew only that she was there. For him. Always.
"Tyrus," Gavril said. "I'm going to ask you again. Back up. Moria? Move slowly toward me. If that beast so much as opens its jaws, I will--"
"No, you will not," she said. "It will not, and so you will not."
Gavril's mouth worked, but something in her eyes made him lower his gaze. His sword stayed up, though.
"I'm going to ask you, Keeper, please . . ."
"He's right," Ashyn said. "The dragon is small, but the dragon is not tiny. Let's all just back up and watch. No sudden moves." She glanced at Gavril. "That goes for you, too. Lower the sword, please."
"If they back away, I will lower it."
They did. The dragon only watched them, looking from Tyrus to Moria, seeming sleepy and confused. The beast made an odd little noise, almost like a mewl. Then it moved. A sudden move that had Gavril jumping, but it was only the dragon trying to get to its feet and instead falling forward. Moria dove to catch it. Tyrus let out a cry, but the whelp had stumbled into Moria's arms and come to rest there, shaking against her, still mewling.
The whelp was as big as Tova. Its scales seemed white at first, but when Moria looked closer, she could see they were iridescent. It had a thick, serpentine body, tapering to a long tail that ended in what would someday be spikes, but were for now, only bone nubs. Likewise, the nubs on its head would grow to curving horns, with more spikes radiating out around its face and down its spine. Its wings ended in single claws, like a bat, but it had both forelegs and hind legs, each pair already thickly clawed.
Moria rubbed its cold sides, feeling them warm under her touch. The dragon nuzzled against her.
"It needs heat," Moria said. "And food. Is there--?"
"There's a goat," Tyrus said. "I'll cut off some if Gavril can start a fire."
THIRTY-NINE
When Tyrus walked away, the dragon whelp let out another little mewl, its head rising to watch him go.
"He'll be back," Moria whispered. The dragon leaned against her, keeping warm as Ashyn gingerly approached and reached out a hand to pet the beast.
"You have a dragon now," Ashyn said, smiling.
Moria chuckled. "It's not mine."
"Did you truly see a vision of--?" Ashyn broke off and leaned in to hug her sister. "It does not matter. How do you feel?"
"As if I've drunk an entire skin of honey wine."
Ashyn laughed softly. "You look as if you have, too." She kissed Moria's forehead. "My sister, curled up with a baby dragon. If I wasn't seeing it, I'd not believe it."
"The dragon? Or me as a nursemaid?"
"Both seem equally unlikely."
Moria rubbed her eyes and looked around. "Where are my--?"
Ashyn handed Moria her daggers.
Moria stuck the blades in her belt and shook herself a little, throwing off that oddly intoxicated feeling. The dragon mewled, but only repositioned itself once she stopped moving.
"Zuri," Ashyn said as she stroked the beast's neck.
"Hmm?"
"Her name is Zuri. The female is the smaller, and Edwyn told me her name is Zuri. He said . . ." Ashyn trailed off, and Moria was about to pursue it, to ask her more about what had happened here, but as soon as Ashyn said the name and looked at the old man's corpse, everything rushed back.
"Alvar . . ." she said. "Tyrus! Gavril! We need to--" Pain ripped through her as she tried to move. The bleeding had stopped, but Gavril's magics could not completely heal her so quickly. "Alvar," she said again.
"We were just discussing that," Tyrus said. "All seems quiet beyond the cave, and I would like to think that is a good sign,
but if we have not seen Ronan or Dalain . . ."
"Neither Ronan nor Dalain nor any warriors of Alvar and Edwyn," Ashyn said. "Which means a battle still wages. It has simply moved where we cannot hear it."
"I'm going out to look around," Tyrus said, handing a chunk of meat to Gavril.
He started for the exit, but when Zuri saw him leaving, she began to mewl and weakly flap her wings, and tumbled off Moria. She scrambled after the dragon and hissed in fresh pain. Moria had to stop, and Ashyn went after the dragon, who was trundling along on unsteady legs, trying to get to Tyrus. Zuri snapped at Ashyn, who drew back quickly.
"I'll go," Gavril said. "There's nothing more I can do for Moria, and that beast is going to give us all trouble if you leave."
"No," Tyrus said. "I must lead--"
He stopped short, and in his eyes, Moria saw a thoughtful look, as if perhaps he was reflecting back on what Alvar had said, mocking Gavril for following Tyrus's orders.
They are not their fathers. Yet there are similarities, and they must be careful not to fall into the same traps.
Tyrus took the meat from Gavril. "Yes, you go. Please. Tell them--" He clapped Gavril on the shoulder. "Just be careful."
Gavril nodded and headed for the doorway.
"Kitsune?" Moria called. When he turned, she said, "Be very careful. And stay away from . . ."
"I know," he said. "I suspect he is long gone. Running from battle is a talent of his. Stay here and rest."
He left, and Tyrus lifted the small dragon, grunting as he did and saying he did not plan to play dragon-nursemaid himself. Yet he moved her to the fire and took pains settling Zuri and then began cutting meat off the chunk. He tried laying it in front of her. She ignored it, until he was putting down another piece . . . and she snatched it from his hand.
Ashyn laughed. "Apparently, she expects you to feed her, too."
He sighed, and between bites, Zuri's adoring gaze followed his every move.
"She's imprinted on you," Ashyn said. "Like a bird."
He sighed again.
Moria snorted. "It's a dragon, Tyrus, not an inconvenient stray kitten. When is the last time that a Tatsu even saw an actual dragon?"
He leaned over and mock-whispered, "I know, it's amazing, but I don't want her getting too full of herself." He looked at the dragon. "You'll need to behave and pull your own weight. Or I'll have the girls put you back to sleep."
Tyrus shifted to sit against Moria, his arm going around her and pulling her close as he leaned to kiss her cheek. She turned and kissed him back.
"So . . ." Ashyn said. "I've been gone a while, it seems."
Moria smiled at her. "Just a little."
"Missed a few things, did I?"
"Just a few."
Moria could feel her sister's gaze on her, evaluating, assessing, then nodding and smiling. "I'm happy for both of you."
"Thank you," Moria said. Then she turned to lean against Tyrus and face her sister. "Tell me what happened."
"I'm not even sure where to begin."
"With him," Moria said, pointing at the dead old man. "Ronan says he told you he was our grandfather?"
"He is not."
If Moria had already decided she hated the old man for deceiving her sister, hearing the bitterness in Ashyn's voice hardened that to loathing. With the death of their father, they'd lost their connection to their family, to their ancestors and their past. Moria had been able to forget that--there was no time to dwell on it--but she knew how much it had bothered Ashyn. To not have any family was almost as great a tragedy as the actual loss of their father.
"We do have family, Ash," she said. "Somewhere. We will find them."
Her sister managed a smile. "Of course we have family. We have each other."
"And we'll not be separated again. Now tell me--"
"Later," said a voice from the entrance as Ronan ran in, breathing hard, Tova and Daigo at his heels. "We need to get out of here."
Gavril followed him in. "All had gone quiet because Dalain and Ronan were pursuing my father and Edwyn's men. Pursuing them into a trap. I had Sabre climb the tallest tree, and she confirmed it--a small army waits on the horizon. When they realize we've stopped following, they'll march back for us."
Dalain and Sabre came in. Zuri clearly decided this was far too many strangers, and she rose, her wings extending as she hissed. Tova stopped short, snorting in alarm. Daigo growled.
"That . . . that is a dragon," Dalain said.
"Brilliant deduction," Sabre said. "Well, since both you girls are alive, I suppose it didn't need that much blood. My suggestion, though? Let's leave the big one sleeping. Now, if we can please get aboveground before that army arrives?"
"But . . ." Dalain looked at her. "It's a dragon."
"Yes, dragon." She jabbed an emphatic finger at the cave exit. "Army. May we go, your lordship?"
"Moria's injured," Tyrus said. "She cannot--"
"No, I think I can . . ." She pushed to her feet and staggered, Ashyn and Tyrus leaping up to catch her before she fell.
"You cannot, Keeper," Gavril said as he strode over. "But Sabre is right. We need to move."
"I can wait here," Moria said. "I have my daggers and my wildcat. And a dragon."
Gavril gave her a look. "All of which only means they will be captured with you. Then my father can drain the rest of your blood to wake her." He pointed at the mother dragon.
"Gavril, you should take her," Ashyn said. "I know you would rather fight, but she'll need someone to help her move to safety. Someone skilled with a blade and with healing magics in case her wound reopens."
Gavril said he would, and tried not to look relieved. Moria and Ashyn both knew he would rather not fight, given who led the opposing army. Her sister was giving him an honorable way out, even if it did mean separating moments after saying they would not. Sadly, no such promises could be given anymore.
They made plans for reuniting. Gavril would get Moria to an abandoned farmhouse they'd passed on the way in, and she would rest there until Ronan came to fetch them. Tyrus would lead the others, fighting or fleeing, depending on the situation.
With both Gavril and Tyrus supporting Moria, they headed out of the cavern, Tyrus giving orders to the others as they walked. As for the dragon . . . when they started to leave, she seemed to have eaten enough to regain her walking strength. Moria had grabbed the hunk of meat and was cutting strips for her as they moved. She hand-fed the dragon--whose head reached her waist--but by the time they got out of the cave, Zuri was using her wings to propel jumps and snatch the strips as soon as Moria cut them.
"Here then," Moria said, giving her half the rest. "Serve yourself."
A flurry of teeth and claws and chomps and growls . . . and the chicken-sized hunk of meat was gone.
"Everyone?" Sabre said. "Keep your hands away from the dragon baby."
When they prepared to separate, Zuri hesitated, looking from Moria to Tyrus. Daigo moved alongside Moria with a grunt that stated his intention to stay with his wounded bond-mate, and Zuri flew to Tyrus.
Partings were quick. Ashyn gingerly embraced Moria and told her to stay safe. Tyrus did the same, adding a kiss. The kiss seemed brief enough, until Sabre told them to hurry it up. Then Gavril put his arm under Moria's and helped her away, Daigo prowling ahead of them, watching for trouble.
FORTY
The camp looked like a battlefield.
Because it was.
A half-dozen bodies lay strewn across the blood-spattered ground. As Gavril led Moria past them, one stirred, his clothes so bloodied she couldn't tell which side he'd fought on, but Gavril lowered Moria to the ground, went over, and ended his suffering without a word. Then he gathered her up and continued on.
Riding in, the farmhouse had seemed so close. Now, as Moria realized exactly how badly she'd been hurt, their destination felt an impossible distance away.
Her side split open again. She felt the blood drip and told herself it was not enough to war
rant stopping. Then it began to stream down her side, and she knew she ought to tell Gavril, but that's when they spotted the farmhouse in the distance--and riders on the horizon--and Moria knew if they paused, those riders would draw close enough to spot them. So she gritted her teeth against the pain and said nothing.
Daigo had been scouting ahead. When he circled back to them, he lifted his black head above the long grass, his nostrils flaring. Then he bounded to Moria and growled.
"I'm fine," she said.
He growled at Gavril.
"Yes," Gavril said. "I'm doing something wrong. I have no idea what it is, but I'm sure I am doing something you disapprove of."
His voice was weary, laced with frustration, and he stared straight ahead, supporting her as he walked. Perhaps wishing he was in battle instead of playing nursemaid to a wounded girl?
"Go scout," Gavril said. "Leave me to get your Keeper to safety. You may disapprove of my methods later."
Daigo stopped in front of him, so close that Gavril--his gaze on the horizon--nearly tripped over him.
"Blast it, Daigo! Can't you see I'm supporting your Keeper? Trip me and you trip her. Let me get her where we're going."
Daigo let out a plaintive yowl.
"Keeper?" Gavril said. "Can you please tell your wildcat that blocking my path does not help either of us?"
Moria knew Daigo was trying to tell Gavril that she was wounded, and they needed to stop.
"Daigo, please," she said. "We're almost there."
Daigo stalked back into the grass but stayed close, anxiously monitoring their progress.
When they finally reached the farmhouse grounds, Moria's legs gave out, and she collapsed, dead weight, startling Gavril enough that he dropped her.
"Blast it," he said, helping her to her feet. "We're almost there. I need you to just take a few more--"
He stopped and slowly withdrew his hand. It was covered in blood.
"No," he whispered.
He lowered her to the ground, cursing more. He fumbled to open her cloak. It stuck to her side, plastered by blood she could feel soaking her tunic and dripping down her leg.
"No, no, no. Blast it, Keeper! When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"
"We could not afford to stop."
"So we can better afford to have you die from loss of blood?"
He let out a string of curses, the likes of which she'd never have imagined him knowing. When Daigo growled, Gavril spun on him with a snarl of his own.