Seeing him like this, Avery was overcome with awe. Her breath left her in a whoosh. His shimmering amber-and-blue scales glinted in the light of the sunset, and the roar that broke from his throat vibrated along her skin.
Lachlan turned his head slowly, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Xavier. His wings flapped furiously as he tried to flee, but there was no escape. Not now. Not in the face of one very pissed-off dragon.
A flash of claws and teeth later, Lachlan dropped from the sky in front of her. Her body moved of its own volition—all instinct or all magic, she didn’t know which. Her boot landed on the fairy’s stomach, and she pressed the tip of Fairy Killer over the evil son of a bitch’s heart.
Lachlan held a palm toward her. “No. Please. I surrender. I beg of you.”
Xavier landed beside her, his blue dragon eyes burning with fire. He bared his teeth and chuffed.
She glared down at Lachlan. “Should I show you the same mercy you showed Xavier? Give you his cell? I wonder if a fairy will do as well as a dragon in perpetual darkness.”
His expression turned into a sneer. “Death!”
At first Avery didn’t understand what he was saying. Was he begging for death? But then a mushroom exploded from the ground beside his hand and flung black spores into the air around her. Xavier roared.
But Avery just shook her head and grinned. “You should have learned from your first mistake.”
She thrust the sword between his ribs until it met dirt on the other side. Lachlan’s mouth opened to cry out, but his breath gurgled in his throat. The light flickered and faded from his cruel dark eyes.
“Avery, his head.” Xavier had shifted back to his human form and was standing beside her naked. “Never trust a dead fairy with its head still attached to its shoulders.”
She could have beheaded Lachlan herself, but after everything, she thought Xavier needed the closure. Shoving the hilt into his hand, she nodded her support. With a crooked smile, Xavier lifted Fairy Killer over his head before bringing the edge down on Lachlan’s neck. The fairy’s head rolled from his body, tangling in his white hair as mud-colored blood seeped into the earth.
Xavier’s gaze locked with her own. “What happened to yer skirt?” he asked, eyeing her leggings. Even stained red, they left nothing to the imagination.
“What happened to your kilt?” Her eyes darted to his obvious lack of clothing.
“I told ye to go to Mistwood. Instead, ye came back for me.”
“Glenna found me and told me what happened.”
“Ye shoulda followed my orders. Ye’re lucky ye weren’t killed!”
Avery didn’t care for the accusatory tone even if it came from his fear. She planted her hands on her hips. “I hate to break it to you, Xavier, but you mated a defiant, willful, and disobedient woman who will never do what you say unless she wants to.”
At first he stared at her openmouthed, but then a deep, rumbling laugh shook his chest. “Aye, I suppose I did. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Chapter Thirty
Paragon
Aborella arrived at the gates of the Obsidian Palace, feeling stronger than ever before. Her skin once again glowed with her natural deep purple luster, and her wounds had completely healed. She’d even managed to replace a few of the tattooed magical symbols she’d lost when she was injured.
But despite her efforts to neutralize it, the tug at the bond between her and Eleanor had become a persistent and painful one. No longer could she avoid heeding the dragon’s call. Which meant everything she’d learned about dragon bonds was true. She could not die of anything short of beheading as long as Eleanor lived. Eleanor could command her presence and track her by following the bond. And although the empress couldn’t force Aborella to do her will, she could make it highly uncomfortable if she didn’t, an unfortunate reality that had driven her back here.
“I’ve come to see Eleanor, empress of Paragon,” Aborella told the young man at the gate. A mere boy, it seemed. She did not know his name. One of the newer recruits.
“Of course.” He bowed awkwardly. “You’re Aborella. She’s been expecting you. I’m to escort you directly to the throne room.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can find her myself.”
“I-I’m sorry, but I have to,” he squeaked, fidgeting with the weapon at his hip as if he couldn’t decide if he feared her or the potential retribution he might endure more.
She tolerated him beside her all the way up the mountain to the veranda where she crossed the jeweled mosaic of a dragon curled around an orange tree. For the first time, she contemplated the ancient art under her feet. It had been there long before her time. Who was it? What did it mean? She’d never asked, and none of the dragons she’d encountered had ever mentioned it.
The young guard opened the door to the throne room and cleared his throat. Looking up from the mosaic, Aborella raised her chin and entered. Eleanor was waiting, standing impatiently with Ransom on the dais. She looked livid.
“I was beginning to think I’d have to hunt you down myself.” Eleanor’s sharp tone reverberated in the open space. “When Ransom couldn’t find you in your hole, I was worried you’d deserted us.”
“You told me to lie in the hole, not to stay there. I’ve been recovering in Hobble Glen in the back of my shoppe. It’s been closed for some time, but it gave me the respite I needed to truly recover.”
She scoffed. “Was that before or after you visited Everfield?”
Aborella’s blood ran cold, but she raised her chin. “Before. I returned to Everfield only recently to follow up on a rumor I heard in the village during my time recovering. I overheard a man claim Everfield was the seat of the rebellion. I was on a reconnaissance mission for the kingdom but came as soon as I felt your call.”
Eleanor ordered Ransom away and took a seat on her throne. The way she crossed her legs and bobbed her foot, it was clear she was annoyed. Aborella could almost hear her trying to puzzle out how Aborella had managed crawling out of that hole alone in the condition she’d been left in. But then, Eleanor had likely forgotten about her those first few weeks. The empress had no proof, just a suspicion of Aborella’s dishonesty.
“What type of intelligence did you gather?” she asked, lines forming around her tight lips.
“I found nothing in Everfield itself. Only rumors substantiated by more rumors. The people seem to be bored and entertaining themselves with stories of insurrection. A mason said he’d heard the movement was gathering support but he himself supported the monarchy. You’re very popular there.” The secret to a great lie was to believe the words when you said them, and Aborella did in the moment. She had practiced the speech all the way from Everfield and ensured there wasn’t a bit of tightness to her expression as she recited it.
She couldn’t fully explain to herself why she lied to the empress. For years she’d considered the woman a friend. Yes, Eleanor had betrayed her, tortured her by burying her alive in that hole, but Aborella would be a fool to think the rebels held any more love for her than this woman on her throne. Truly, she had no friends in the five kingdoms. No one she could trust. Whether it was the promise of revenge on Eleanor or some fragment of loyalty toward Dianthe, she wasn’t sure, but she was no longer willing to do the empress’s will.
“Hmm.” Eleanor’s eyes raked over her. “You will use your gifts to try to find these rebels?”
“Of course. As soon as I return to my rooms, I will consult my crystals.” She spread her hands. “There are limits, you understand. If I had a name, things would be easier, but…”
Eleanor sneered. “Yes, I am fully aware of your limitations.”
Aborella bowed and started for her chambers.
“Wait.” Eleanor held up her hand. “There is one thing I want you to do first, a priority over all others.”
“Yes?” Aborella swallowed nervously and waited to hear the empress’s will.
“The egg. I want to know when and where Raven and Ga
briel’s spawn will hatch. We must strike the moment the whelp emerges from the shell. All three will be at their weakest. We must kill the youngling immediately, before its power can be used against me.”
Aborella bowed low. “As you wish. I’ll devote all my resources to it.”
With a flick of Eleanor’s hand, Aborella was dismissed. She hurried to her chambers, thankful to put a locked door between them. Directly, she strode into her ritual room, but she didn’t bother with her crystals. Instead, she crossed to the window and threw it open wide, whistling for her familiar. After a few long moments, Abacus landed in front of her in a flurry of silver feathers. She scratched the back of the bird’s head and received a warning nip on the finger.
“I’m sorry, sweet friend. I know I’ve left you to your own devices far too long.” Although the bird could take care of herself and had the past several months, as her familiar, the animal would not feel complete away from her magic. Abacus buried her head against her hand, her large hooked beak clacking. “Yes, I know. But I need you now. Will you help me?”
The bird bobbed her head, and Aborella stroked her feathers.
The truth was, Aborella knew exactly when Raven’s whelp would be born. She’d known for over a week. It wouldn’t be long now. All that was left to do was to decide what and when to tell Eleanor. She scribbled a note on a piece of parchment and bound it to Abacus’s leg. “Take this to Dianthe of Everfield.”
The bird flapped her silver wings and flew toward the forest beyond. Steeling her resolve, Aborella reached into the pocket of her cloak and retrieved the one item she’d stolen from Sylas and Dianthe’s cottage during her stay in Everfield. If she played her cards right, she’d both punish the empress and ensure a place in her court again. All she had to do was stay one step ahead of Eleanor.
Chapter Thirty-One
For a dragon, nothing held greater power to heal than treasure. It had been far too long since Xavier enjoyed its pleasures. The vibrations from the gold and jewels that surrounded his scales revived his strength and healed the damage the enchanted weapons had caused him.
As good as it felt though, he did not linger in his treasure room. Once he regained his strength, he shifted into his human form.
“Thank you, Glenna,” he said, finding clean clothing spread out on the bench near the door. He dressed quickly, needing to find Avery. They had unfinished business.
He burst from his treasure room and headed for the stairs that led up into the east wing. He stopped short when Mistress Abernathy saw him and broke into sobs that shook the woman and echoed in the hall.
“I suppose you’ll be havin’ me head for what I done, but I swear to you, my laird, I didna ken I was doin’ it till it was done.”
With nothing but gentleness, he approached her and gripped her shoulder. “Nay. Lachlan was an evil changeling, ye ken? Had ye under his spell. I’ll not blame ye for it.”
“Oh, my laird. Ye’re good and kind. Ye deserve better than the likes of me.” She wept violently until Xavier had no choice but to pull her into his arms.
“Ah weel. Let it all out then.” He patted her back. “When ye can see fit to dry your tears, I need yer help though.”
“Help? What with?” She wiped under her eyes.
“Avery. Have you seen her?”
“Avery from the kitchen?” Mistress Abernathy gave him a curious look.
“Aye. She is my betrothed. I need to find her.”
The woman’s round shoulders shook with renewed sobs. “Your be—?”
“Why are ye cryin’?”
“I fear I’ve made another error. I put her in one of the servants’ chambers. I didna know she was yer betrothed, or I’d have put her in a proper room.”
He wiped the woman’s tears. “All will be forgiven if ye just tell me whit room?”
“The one next to mine! Down the hall from the kitchen.”
“Aye.” He strode away from her.
“Wait! Is it true what they say then, that it was she who killed Lachlan? I didna believe, but…”
He considered that for a moment. Avery had delivered the fatal blow to Lachlan’s heart. The beheading by Xavier was to avoid any magical healing or resurrection. Besides, if he gave Avery the full credit for the kill, Mistress Abernathy’s skill as a gossip would carry the news to every corner of the builgean. Xavier’s deepest wish was that his clan love her, love her as much as he did.
“Aye. It was she who did it.”
Mistress Abernathy’s hands pressed into her lips. “And I gave her a servant’s room! I deserve to be flogged.” Her tears began to flow anew.
He returned to her and spent more precious minutes soothing the woman before assuring her he’d sort things out with Avery.
At last he freed himself from the woman’s clutches and passed through the main hall where a group of men and women were celebrating at one of the long tables.
They raised their glasses when they saw him and cheered. “The fairy is dead. The laird and chief returns. Let us drink to his health! Slainte.”
“Slainte,” the others yelled.
Everyone drank.
“Aye.” Xavier clapped the men on the back but refused the whisky they offered.
“Celebrate with a whisky?” the one called Aeden asked.
Xavier shook his head. “Perhaps another time.”
“I ken the woman was a sorceress the day I seen her turn whisky into water and water into whisky at the Lion and the Hare.” He lowered his voice. “That’s why she was immune to Lachlan’s fairy magic.”
“Are you sure she’s a sorceress?” Xavier asked. “That sounds like a miracle. Perhaps she’s truly an angel.”
Murmurs and speculation continued as Xavier excused himself and hurried from the hall toward the kitchen and then around the bend toward the room Mistress Abernathy had mentioned. He raised his hand and knocked on the plain wooden door.
“Just a second,” Avery yelled.
There was a clatter inside and then she opened the door quite forcefully.
“Xavier!” She seemed surprised.
“What are ye wearing?” He grimaced at her garb. Her skirts and stays were too large, and they hung off her like an ill-wrapped drape. Coupled with their dull brown color, the ensemble made him long for the fairy-made blue dress the brownie had given her.
“One of Mistress Abernathy’s castoffs. I only had the one outfit Nathaniel’s oreads sent with me, and it was stained and torn beyond repair in the battle. I didn’t take any of the clothing the brownie made for me. I didn’t think I’d need it.”
He made a guttural sound and backed into the hall, grabbing the first maid he could get his hands on. “Go find the tailor, Mr. MacGowan. Tell him he is needed immediately.”
“It can wait, really,” Avery protested.
He hoisted the fabric up on her shoulders. “Nay, it canna wait. I’ll have Glenna get started on a few pieces as well. She’s faster, ye ken, but Mr. MacGowan will be insulted if he’s not asked.”
Avery tucked her freshly washed hair behind her ears. “Xavier, we need to talk about when we’re going ba—”
He grabbed her and kissed her firmly on the lips until she sagged against him like a sack of flour. He stood her back on her feet and slipped his hand into hers.
“First, come with me.”
He led her from the room, through the castle, and up the stairs to the highest point of the highest tower. The view from here was his favorite in the castle. One could see the entire village from its window, all the way to the kirk. He stared at the cross on the steeple and tried to find the words he wanted to say to her.
“I ken these are not ideal circumstances, and ye need to go back from whence ye came.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a gentle press of his finger to her lips. “Ye’re my mate. I can’t bear to be away from ye long. So I ’ave no choice but to go with ye.”
“Oh, Xavier…”
There was something else he didn’t menti
on—that strange voice he’d heard in the dungeon. It wasn’t Glenna who’d told him that taking back Paragon was his war. Had it been the goddess? A vivid hallucination? He supposed he’d never know for sure, but it was clear to him that helping his siblings was the right thing to do. He didn’t mention that to Avery now because being with her was the only thing that mattered anyway. Mysterious voice or no, he’d go with her because he had to be near her. Everything else was just geography.
“I have one condition,” he added, “one thing I want ye to do for me before I make arrangements to leave with ye.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Anything. What?”
He took her face in his hands. “I want ye to marry me.”
Avery blinked slowly. Had he just asked her to marry him? She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Huh?”
“Marry me. Tomorrow. In that kirk.” He pointed to the chapel on the hill, barely visible in the light of the full moon.
“We’ve known each other… less than a week.” She reworked the math in her head but came to the same conclusion. It seemed far longer since she’d rescued him from the dungeon, but truly it had only been a matter of days.
“Ye mated me. A mated bond is far more permanent than a human marriage.”
“True.”
He stepped in closer. Darkness clouded his narrowed eyes like a gathering storm. “Ye did mean it when ye accepted the bond?” It was a statement, but there was clearly a question in it as well.
Avery scraped her teeth along her bottom lip. “I did mean it, Xavier. It was possibly the first thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire life. I still mean it. I will always mean it.”
He beamed, his lopsided grin holding a modicum of smug satisfaction. “Then marry me.”
Avery sighed. She’d always pictured her marriage as a grand affair as her sister Raven’s had been, with a dozen bridesmaids and her parents and sister looking on. She’d fantasized about a designer dress and sprays of white lilies to line the aisle. Marrying him here didn’t fit the future she’d painted for herself, but then, loving a Highlander didn’t either. She was officially blazing a new trail here. All of her old dreams didn’t hold a candle to her new ones.
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