by Noah Harris
“I remember,” Dylan’s hands played over his stomach, as if he might be able to feel the child beneath. “That was right before the pain stopped...”
Rajiah nodded, then turned his head, capturing Dylan’s gaze. His lips were pursed tight, gemstone eyes hard. “Dylan,” His voice was still calm and steady, but with an edge of stern graveness that was impossible to ignore. “There is something I want you to understand about my kind. We dragons have a unique control over our essence, the magic that makes us shifters. The energy that makes us who we are. We have the unique ability to share that essence in times of emergency. It is, in its base form, our life-force. We can share it with someone who is losing theirs. We can give them a part of our own life-force to keep them grounded. To help them live. We can only do this a few times, and each time weakens our own life-force as it is split up, shared among others. It is very rare. Most of us go our entire lives without doing it. Some of us don’t even know that we can. It has slipped into the realm of myths and mysteries surrounding our kind.
“It is, in essence, giving away half of our heart. It is something we do not even do with our mates unless it is a matter of life and death. It is said, in times of old, mates would share half their essence with each other, each making the other whole, but that practice has long since faded into history. Especially during the wars, when mates would die frequently and often.
“It is a miracle that one as young and small as Remi figured out how to do it.” Rajiah’s smile was small, almost sorrowful, but conflicting with the pride, wonder and awe that showed in his face. He looked like he was having a hard time accepting what had happened, wrapping his head around it. “I’m not entirely sure I know how it is done, and I was trying to do so to save you. But Remi...he simply walked up to you, looked over the situation, reached out, and...shared his essence. No hesitation. No doubt. Not at all worried. He simply shared the most intimate part of himself, his core, and stepped away like he was proud of his accomplishment.”
Dylan stared at Rajiah in awe, confused and shocked. “Remi...shared his life-force with me?” He asked, trying to absorb all the information. He had heard of the sharing of a dragon’s heart, but it had been in tales of shifters when he was young. He never considered the practicality of it. Never considered that it might one day save his life. Never thought a child barely younger than his own daughter would do it.
But Rajiah was shaking his head, chuckling softly under his breath. When he looked at Dylan, his eyes were glittering, gemstone eyes catching the light. He looked strangely sad and worried, like any parent might if their child did something so unprecedented as sharing an important piece of themselves. But he was also happy and proud of his son. “No, Dylan,” his hand moved to rest on Dylan’s, atop his belly. “He shared his dragon’s heart with your unborn son.”
“My...son?”
Rajiah nodded, smile softening at the edges, voice dropping low. His eyes dropped to their hands, laying over Dylan’s unborn child. “I do not know what this means for them. I’ve never heard of a dragon child sharing their heart, let alone with an unborn child. Whatever their life brings, they will be connected in ways that neither you nor I will ever understand. I can only hope they will be able to support each other and live to the fullest because of it.”
He suddenly understood Rajiah’s worry. There would be an aspect of their sons’ lives that they would never understand. A part of it that was so uncertain and so full of the unknown. It was hard to accept that they couldn’t guarantee the best for their children because they didn’t understand it themselves. They could only wait, watch, support them, and hope for the best.
He squeezed Rajiah’s hand, offering him a weak smile. “They’ll be fine.” He knew he wasn’t good with words or with comforting people. He was direct and blunt in all the ways that Blake was considerate and deliberate. But Rajiah knew him. He knew Dylan would say exactly what he believed without sugar coating it. And he put that into his voice, his tone, trying to show his assurances rather than say them.
It must have come across because Rajiah’s smile turned a little more genuine. “They will be,” he said, certain and sure, “but it is a father’s job to worry.”
Speaking of worrying and fathers...Dylan now had some of his questions answered, but not all of them. There was still a very pressing matter pressing in on his heart, a void where his bond should be. He sent out questioning waves but received nothing in response. He let the comfortable silence stretch for a moment, letting Rajiah’s own worries about his son settle before he spoke.
“And what of Blake?” he asked, feeling and hearing the shake in his voice. “My—my son is fine, I’m fine, and you say that Blake is fine, but...Rajiah I felt him before he cut our connection. I felt his pain. If he took that spell meant for you—“
Rajiah must have heard his rising panic. It wasn’t hard to do. Even Dylan could hear his voice rising, the strain in his words, the speed at which they fell from his lips. Worry was rushing them forward and jumbling them together until he felt he might choke. Rajiah put up a hand, physically stopping his rambling. Dylan stared at him, eyes wide with uncertainty as fear shivered down his spine.
“It wasn’t a physically harmful spell.” Rajiah said when he was certain he had Dylan’s attention. Dylan felt himself relax, body slumping into the mattress. “Magic is not a constant resource. Like most energy, it needs time to regenerate. At that point, Abel didn’t have enough magic in his reserves to cast a truly harmful spell. He was, however, at the end of his sanity. A rope, frayed and ready to snap. His only thought was that Arulean and Adalaide had taken everything from him. Everything he had and everything he was certain he could achieve. In his desperation, he wanted to hurt them. Arulean was his true target. He wanted to hurt him for taking Thoric away, and thus, his advantage and power. To hurt Arulean most, he determined to target me and, perhaps, Remi. Not to harm us, but something that would no doubt be just as painful for Arulean...
“It was this spell that Blake took in our place...” Rajiah trailed off, head turning just a fraction as his eyes lowered to the floor. Melancholy showed in the lines of his posture, in the lines of his face. Dylan could smell the dull, muted notes of sorrow in his voice. “I truly am sorry, Dylan. I never wanted this to happen.”
“Rajiah,” Dylan said, steady and hard, gripping Rajiah’s hand. “What kind of spell was it?”
Rajiah breathed deeply, letting it out in a rush. His head tilted back, defeated and resigned. “A spell to make the victim forget their mate.”
A beat of silence passed. Then two. Neither of them moved. They barely dared to breath. Dylan could feel each breath press down on his lungs, dragged from his throat with a grating hiss. He didn’t know how to process that information. His mind felt like it was moving too slowly. Gears covered in rust, clicking and groaning as they tried to move. Then once they started going, they were whirling at a terrifying pace.
“What?” He breathed. No. No, no, no, no.
Rajiah’s eyes closed, lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded once. “It was a spell he was going to use on us after Arulean was defeated, if we didn’t go to Thoric willingly. So he used it anyway, thinking that the best form of revenge would be for Arulean’s loved ones to forget their connection to him. It would have worked, too, if Blake hadn’t gotten in the way. And now...”
“He doesn’t remember me.” Dylan said, feeling hollow. It was a statement. A fact. One that left him feeling like he had been hit in the chest by a truck. He could logically make the connection that Rajiah was leading him to, but his mind was still reeling. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. He refused to let it be real.
But he felt like it wasn’t up to him. He could feel control slipping through his numb fingers, his life falling apart around him.
Rajiah sighed, shaking his head. “No. He doesn’t remember you or Lily. He is, as I said, perfectly fine. He is unharmed and healthy, and the witches assure us that the only effect of the spell is
the suppression of his memory of his family. Of...you.” He looked at Dylan then, letting the depths of his sorrow, guilt, and regret show.
While his mind was reeling, spinning off into a chaotic black void of hopelessness, part of him took hold. His instincts as a soldier kicked in. Perseverance. Survival. When all things seem hopeless, he didn’t mope and drag his heels. He took the problem and looked for solutions. In the field, there was no time for self pity. No time to wallow. He was proactive and reactive. Action. Solutions. Move forward.
He had to move forward to keep from falling deeper into the pit that threatened to swallow him whole.
“Can the spell be broken?”
Rajiah blinked, deep depression seeming to give way to confusion and surprise at the steadiness in Dylan’s voice, in the hardness of his expression, at the fierceness in his gaze. He recovered quickly, sitting up a little straighter, seemingly gaining strength from Dylan’s fire. “Yes and no.”
Dylan didn’t expect it to be easy. Magic rarely was. He nodded, pressing his lips tight. “Explain.”
Rajiah exhaled heavily through his nose, face scrunching up in his frustration. “The witches tell us that spells are very specific to the caster. Adalaide has tried, but Abel put some kind of specific safeguard on his spell. Only he can safely remove it. If the others try, they risk permanently damaging Blake’s memory. That being said, they assured us that the spell isn’t necessarily firm enough to hold through all circumstances. There have been instances of a spell fading, wearing off, or breaking through the sheer will of the person it was cast on.”
Dylan’s brow furrowed, jaw working as he tried to decipher what Rajiah was saying. “So unless Abel decides to remove the spell...”
“Which he says he won’t do, but the witches are working on wearing him down. He is, however, very stubborn,” Rajiah added with distaste.
“So our only other hope is either for it to go away naturally, or...” He trailed off, looking to Rajiah for confirmation.
Rajiah nodded, squeezing Dylan’s hand. “Or you might be able to help Blake break the spell himself. We are hoping...that your bond is strong enough to prevail despite the memory loss. That perhaps seeing you might trigger something in him that can give him the strength to push through the magic that’s suppressing his memory of you and Lily.”
Dylan blinked, eyes widening. “We can’t tell Lily,” he said quickly, heart squeezing in a sudden burst of panic. He couldn’t imagine the expression on her face when she realized her father, the one who had practically raised her in Dylan’s stead, didn’t remember her at all. Her father who she looked up to, idolized and who was always there for her was going to look at her like a stranger.
That would be devastating. He couldn’t bear to see her heart break like that. And he knew that Blake, had he been in his right mind, wouldn’t want that either.
Rajiah, thankfully, was on the same page. “I know,” he said, reassuring and steady, a rock in the storm that was threatening to tear Dylan apart. “Lily doesn’t know that he’s here. We’ve managed to keep them apart. She thinks that Blake is still with the witches.”
Dylan let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Rajiah gave him a small smile. “Of course. This is our fault, and therefore our responsibility.” Dylan opened his mouth to protest, but Rajiah held up a hand, cutting him off. “No. I understand you both came into this knowing the risks, and that it is part of the job, but it is still our fault. You wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for us. You protected us, so let us take care of you. We will do everything in our power to fix this.”
Tension eased out of Dylan’s shoulders, relief feeling like a drug in his system. “Thank you.” Then something else occurred to him. His smile faded. “So Blake is here?”
“Yes. As far as we can tell, he remembers the Shadow Pack and everyone here, save for you and Lily. We have moved him into a different room on the other side of the castle to minimize the possibility of Lily seeing him, and we have an escort with him at all times. We’ve mostly been keeping him in his room while we waited for you to recover.”
Dylan gave him a wry smile. “I bet he just loves being cooped up.”
Rajiah’s answering smile was similarly amused. “He absolutely abhors it.”
“So...” Dylan’s eyes dropped as he watched his fingers pick at the hem of the blanket around him. “What now?”
Rajiah breathed in deep, puffing himself up and sitting up straight. “Now,” He squared his shoulders, “We are going to get you showered and dressed, and you’re going to meet Blake. Hopefully that will spark his memory enough for the spell to break.”
There was a weight in his stomach sinking low into his gut, feeling like a ball of lead, writhing with uncertainty and apprehensive fear. Still, he managed a small smile, trying to fan the ember of hope in his chest. “Hopefully.”
15
It was strange being in this room again. It was the same small, formal greeting room in which just a few weeks ago, they had met with the witches for the first time. At that time, he had been on the other side of the room. He had been one of the people who had walked in. This time, he was the one waiting. And he realized that he really hated waiting.
He sat on the couch, facing the door. There was a clock on the mantle to one side of the room. The ticking of the second hand was loud in the silence, cutting through it, grating against his flesh, an itch he couldn’t scratch.
Tick.
Tock.
Counting down the seconds until his mate walked through that door. His mate who didn’t remember him.
Rajiah sat next to him, one leg crossed over the other, one arm laid out over the back of the couch. He looked calm and at ease, but Dylan knew it was only for his benefit. He could see the way Rajiah’s other hand tapped at his leg, the way his foot bounced, the way his scent smelled slightly bitter with nervous anticipation.
Dylan had let Rajiah help him out of bed, surprised by how weak his body felt. But he supposed that a near miscarriage and days of recovery would do that. Rajiah had helped him to the bathroom and out of his clothes, his omega scent warm and comforting, soothing Dylan’s rattled nerves. He took his time in the shower, letting the hot water pelt his skin, he hoped it would warm him inside, despite the cold, hollow numbness in his chest.
He didn’t come out of the shower until he felt lightheaded from the steam and his skin was starting to prune. He had taken the time to let everything sink in. To really absorb and process all the information Rajiah had given him. To really let his distant memories settle.
As he got dressed in simple jeans and a loose sweater to hide the majority of his stomach, he felt slightly stronger. As they walked through the halls to the sitting room, he felt a fire of determination come over him, it burned warm and bright. He felt it solidify his resolve, currently the only thing holding him together. He clung to it to keep from falling apart.
He needed to be strong. He had to be strong for himself. For Blake. For Lily. For their unborn son. For his entire family.
He had to believe everything would be alright. It had to be. It always was. He and Blake fit together. They were meant to be together. Through all the odds, struggles, arguments, uncertainties, they were meant to be together. They were two jagged puzzle pieces, ones that didn’t look like they should fit yet snapped together perfectly. They completed each other. He was Dylan’s other half. A witch may be able to suppress his memory, but that couldn’t keep them apart.
They were stronger than that.
He believed that.
He lifted his chin, hands laid out over his stomach, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. Blake had been strong for him for years. Blake had waited for him. Blake had never lost faith in him. Blake waited for Dylan to fall in love with him. Blake had let him be free, and despite his restless disquiet, he hadn’t tried to tie him down. Blake was his strength and support even when he doubted himself.
And now Blake needed him, and Dylan wou
ldn’t let him down.
He refused to let himself admit how scared he was.
It felt like an eternity before they heard footsteps at the end of the hall.
They both tensed immediately, and Dylan automatically reached out with his bond to feel for his mate. It was like reaching into a still, cold pond. Something was there. The bond was still there, but he couldn’t touch anything. There was a wall between them.
“They’re coming.” Rajiah said softly, confirming that the footsteps were Arulean and Blake. He felt a spike of jealousy as Rajiah reached out mentally for his mate and could actually feel him.
Dylan’s chest felt tight, there was a lump in his throat, so he stayed silent, merely nodding.
Rajiah’s hand touched his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Just remember...he is still your mate. Your bond is still there. It’s just blocked by outside magic. Whatever happens, it is only temporary.”
Dylan nodded again, wetting his lips and trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.
The footsteps stopped outside the door, and they heard voices filtering through the thick walls, muffled and low. He strained to hear Blake’s, more out of reflex than anything. When he became too anxious to remain sitting, he pushed himself to his feet, Rajiah’s hand immediately on his back to help him up. Then they both stood there, in front of one of the couches. There was another couch and a coffee table between them and the door. The silence was so thick that Dylan could almost feel it as they waited. Rajiah’s hand remained on his upper back in a show of support, rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles.
When the door started to open, Dylan’s breath caught in his throat. His entire body froze, stuck between wanting to shrink away and rush forward into the arms of his mate. But Blake’s arms weren’t held open to him, nor was his half of their bond. So Dylan stayed still, frozen and waiting.
Arulean came through the doorway first. He caught Dylan’s gaze, giving him a small smile, one that was simultaneously apologetic and reassuring. Then he stepped aside, and Blake walked into the room.