by Jessica Gunn
Dragons were commonplace here. Both shifters and the real deal. Why else would they not think anything of Zezza? If anything, I was the odd one out.
Just as I was beginning to feel safe and at home, one older man, his face wrinkled with age and time and many red and orange scales, stared at me from the window of his home. His dark eyes narrowed in a sort of accusatory curiosity that set me on edge. I shuddered and turned away, deciding to ignore the look. He didn’t know me, nor I him.
And then, several other older dragon shifters did the same. Their joyful faces became wary at the sight of me. They pulled kids inside houses and even drew some curtains shut.
“Did I do something?” I asked Eli as we walked.
“Not you,” Elena said before pushing past Eli to charge on ahead.
It was the only response I received before we came to a stop outside the largest of the structures, a several stories tall white and grey stone masterpiece straight out of the Byzantine era. High archways with vines tangled around them swept gracefully over the outside, creating an image of grace amongst strength. Sort of like the dragons from myth. The archways had half-domes beneath them carved with images of more of the same themes, dragons flying high in the sky.
Eli set his hands on an exterior door, wooden with metal hinges and stained-glass pieces for windows. Here, the glass depicted not a dragon or a landscape, but a singular person with a lightning bolt in their hand. A bit like Zeus, actually.
Warden of the Storm.
The title swam through my mind again on the echoes of Keir’s voice.
“Through here,” Eli said.
I caught him watching me, a ghost of a smile on his face from my wonder at the image in the stained-glass. I couldn’t hide it. As terrifying and confusing as all of this—dragons, the Lair, the supernaturals—was, it was awe-inspiring, too. The kind of escapist fantasy humans had always loved and told stories about.
Most of us spent our entire lives dreaming of being something more. Now since the meteor strike, a few of us, every now and again, got to be.
Inside the beautiful building, the air was instantaneously cooler. Dryer, too, as if this town wasn’t situated inside of a tropical jungle. Given the rest of the older-style architecture that mixed between Byzantine and something more ancient, and the lack of noise, I didn’t think there was any air conditioning running. Still, an energy zipped along the skin of my arms as I took in the way this culture had mixed old with modern amenities and magic.
Zezza trilled in loud, short, happy bursts.
“Is that magic?” I asked Eli.
It must be. Along with keeping the area cool, the light inside this building dimmed to almost twilight despite it being morning. Along the tops of the tall ceilings were little lights hanging without wires like fireflies in the air. Flowers and vines clung to the walls with flowers sprouting in wild bright shades of red, blue, yellow, and orange, including a huge purple flowering plant with petals the size of my face.
I reached out to it as we passed, the petals soft beneath my fingers. Zezza leaned in to smell the flower and sneezed the cutest little dragon sneeze I would ever hear. I was sure of it.
It was like we had stepped from the jungle outside into an early evening oasis. Zezza trilled and chirped, excited, and bounced around on my arm. Like she wanted to fly away and enjoy the space but also not leave me behind.
I lifted my arm and gently tried to shake her off. “Go. It’s okay.”
With one last happy noise, she took off, soaring low circles above the four of us as we walked.
“She’s already growing,” Elena said.
I couldn’t help but smile. Getting injured sure hadn’t helped her at all, but it was true. Zezza had hatched and between then and now, she’d grown. She’d figured out how to fly and shoot lightning out of her mouth. She’d even figured out how to connect to me when I couldn’t figure out how to connect to anything at all anymore.
“Yeah,” I said after a few moments, my heart warming. How such a small creature managed to crack through the shell I’d built was a mystery. But I was happier for it. “She’s magnificent. Impossible.”
Elena’s smile became a little forced as she glanced at me. “Not impossible. For you, maybe. Not for us.”
“Right.” What was her problem? We didn’t even know each other. If it was general distrust of me because I wasn’t from here, I’d totally understand. But this animosity felt like there was more to it than that.
“This way,” Eli said as we reached a set of double onyx doors with white handles. He pulled one open and ushered his companions inside.
Zezza landed on my shoulder and I followed suit, nodding to Eli as we passed. Before we were all the way through the door, I stopped.
“Thank you,” I said. “For saving us back there from Kristian.”
Eli studied my face for a moment, his expression unreadable. “It is my duty.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
I went to reply, but an older woman in silver robes with long white hair appeared through an archway before us. Her hands were clasped before her beneath sleeves that hung low. What lay beyond the archway was shrouded in a fine mist and dim lighting. Both she and the room beyond were mysterious and ancient, like everything here, it seemed.
Other supernaturals didn’t have this air about them. At least, not the ones that frequented the casino I worked at.
Had worked at.
Oh, gods. Had it really only been less than a day since that ridiculous game of poker?
The woman approached us and bowed her head, even dipping some in a curtsey. Her cheeks and the parts of her neck that were visible were covered in a fine sheen of silver dragon scales. Her robes appeared to be a smooth material, but lightweight enough that the robe seemed to flow in a breeze filtering into the room from somewhere unseen. The breeze brought with it scents of lavender incense and burning wood.
It was peaceful. And peace hadn’t been something I had felt over the past twenty-four hours.
Or the last several years, really.
“Warden,” she said, addressing me first. For a moment her eyes held a look of recognition, followed by the same wariness of the other older shifters in the village. Then she turned to the others. “Prince Eli. Princess Elena.”
They’re royalty?
I wanted to turn back to them. To send a questioning glance their way along with a giant, “Um, what?” But I didn’t. Prince. Princess. How was it at all possible that this entire situation had become that much more messed up? And if they were royalty, what did that make their friend?
An image of a room filled with chairs arranged in a circle, with one throne at the far end, appeared in my mind. Courtesy of Zezza, no doubt.
The woman bowed her head again, this time in my direction. “The Speaker will see you now.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Speaker?”
Eli touched a hand to my elbow. “He is the speaker for the king.”
“If you’re the king’s son,” I said, emphasizing the detail he had left out of his original introduction, “why do I need to go through this Speaker?”
“Because,” Elena said, stepping forward toward the door. “That is our way. Take it or leave it.”
I wanted to ask if that meant I could, in fact, turn around and leave this all behind and go back to Boston with Zezza. But for better or worse the both of us were past the point of no return
“Then let’s go.” I gestured for Elena to lead me through the door. Her gaze, cold and unforgiving, fell over me like I was nothing but an annoyance to her. Not because I was here, but for a reason much deeper. As if my very existence was a nuisance to everything she held dear.
Maybe my existence was.
The silver-scaled woman nodded. “Very well.”
She led us through the archway and into what felt like a completely separate space. Chills sprouted along my arms and down the back of my neck as I crossed the thresh
old, feeling as though cool water had slipped down my body from above, caressing and teasing in swirls.
But it wasn’t water. A faint shimmering of silver magic hung in the air. My breath hitched as every step in this new space seemed to visually change it, from the building’s wooden and leafy interior to a cavern chamber deep inside some mountain.
The humidity here hung thicker than the jungle, but a cool breeze lifted the ends of my hair and moved Zezza’s outstretched wings the littlest bit. Beneath my feet, wood and stone gave way to moss and grass, and any light coming through the stained-glass windows in the previous building disappeared into the cavern lit by lanterns glowing in shades of oranges, reds, and yellows. Not fire, I realized. But magic.
Magic seemed to be everywhere here. Dragons were, after all, supposed to be the most adept with magic except for the elves. Elves whom no one had seen or heard about in hundreds of years.
“Come,” the silver-scaled woman said, holding a hand out to me. It was about then that I realized Eli, Elena, and Tharin hadn’t followed us inside more than a few steps.
“Aren’t you coming too?” I asked Eli. Elena’s glare still held fire. I’d get no further answers or information from her, I was sure of it. Later on, maybe if we were ever alone, I’d ask Eli why his sister seemed to hate me so much after only knowing me for maybe an hour. Two tops.
Eli nodded, looking ahead. “Go.”
Something about the way he seemed to look past me into the cavern made a knot form in my throat. He and his friends stood at strict attention, their backs as straight as boards. Despite the Speaker being outranked by the king, something about him had them terrified. Reverent.
Obedient.
I scratched Zezza beneath her chin. “Ready, little one?”
Even Zezza seemed to shift to be at attention as much as a baby dragon could. She hadn’t done that with Eli. Or Elena.
Entering the cavern space felt like entering a whole new world. Not in the same way coming to the Lair had. Jumping from the mortal weave to this one had been done with magic I didn’t understand.
Entering the cavern was like stepping through a subtle shift in reality. Like the changing of temperatures, the wind wistfully moved through the space outside, but the air in here was stagnant and thick with a musty odor that reminded me of old books. Each and every step had my awareness growing, reaching out into the darkness with the preternatural understanding that a predator was nearby.
I swallowed hard as my breath thinned out, as if I were to breathe too loudly, everyone within a mile would hear it.
“Hello?” I said into the shadows. My voice, shaky at best, echoed off far-away walls. It was only then that I realized that the pitter-patter of Zezza’s tiny feet wasn’t following me.
I was alone.
But not.
A shifting sound like shells knocking together filled my ears, sending the hair on my arms on end. It seemed to come from everywhere at once with no real origin point.
“Hello?” I asked again.
“Hello, child.”
The voice was like stones tumbling in an avalanche, shaking the ground and my bones all the same. In the darkness, a shifting wall of silver scales slid by me. The scales of a gigantic dragon.
“They call you ‘The Warden of the Storm,’” it said, the voice now sounding as though it were right above me.
I lifted my gaze… right to the large snout and eyes of an enormous dragon. “They do.” I had to force my voice to remain calm, to keep my breathing even.
“Do you?”
I gulped. What kind of question was that? “No. That’s not my name.”
“‘Warden’ is not a name.”
“No,” I said slowly. “It’s not. It’s a title.”
“And what is your name then?” the dragon asked. Although he was massive, I could see all of him now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness in the cavern. As far as dragons went, on the whole, I’d imagined they’d be bigger. This one appeared to be about the size of an eighteen-wheeler.
Maybe this wasn’t a real dragon, but a shifter?
“Vera Varrone,” I answered. “And yours?”
“I am the Speaker.”
Exactly what the others had said.
“I don’t really understand why I’m here,” I said honestly. “Or what the Warden’s role is. Or why they think it’s me.”
The Speaker lifted his head and his whole form seemed to ripple and shrink until a man with olive skin and black hair, dressed in fine robes and a breast-plate armor the color of steel, stood before me. He held himself as though he were nobility, but with a hint of reverence as well. Between his posture and the atmosphere of this building, I could only assume this was a religious site and position—it all went beyond simply speaking for the king. “The Warden of the Storm is our protector. Our caretaker. Our bond which holds all of dragonkind together as our guide.”
“Uh… wow.” I still didn’t see what that had to do with me. I grew up in the mortal weave, and as far as I knew, I was born there too.
“Are you up to the task?” he asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe someone around here could put the puzzle pieces together some?” I’d gone from forcibly joining a poker game to running away with an egg to ending up standing here before a silver dragon shifter demanding I speak up about something I didn’t really understand.
Did I believe everything happening around me was reality? Yes. And I accepted that for the last twelve hours I’d been Zezza’s guardian. But at the core of everything I was and had experienced, I was just a normal, mortal woman who’d happened to get stuck in the middle of supernaturals’ business.
Even if I was this Warden, I didn’t know how I’d come to be it. My parents weren’t magical, not that I knew of anyway. Same with my sisters.
The Speaker spoke again. “You’ll have to be ready. The soul of dragons has spoken.”
“Soul?” I straightened and put my hands on my hips. “Listen—honestly, until not that long ago, I didn’t know dragons still existed. I don’t know what being a Warden means. I don’t know what my role in all of this is, or why or how I was chosen. All I know is that when that dragon”—I pointed to Zezza—“hatched, everything changed. I’m connected to her in a way I don’t understand. And in that, I agree. Whatever I am now, I was her protector for a short while. And that didn’t turn out too well. She still got hurt.”
The man started to circle me while I was talking, looking me over. Judging or taking stock of what he saw. I wondered what I looked like from an outsider’s perspective. “You will complete a trial. If you really are the Warden, then you will survive and prove yourself and be worthy of taking your place amongst us.”
“What kind of trial?” I tried not to let my frustration lace my words too thickly. There were too many questions, and not enough answers.
“One only the Warden can pass.”
“Sounds legit,” I said, my sarcasm bleeding through. I didn’t want to die. Not yet. “And what if I’m not this “Warden” person? What if I die?” The way things were going, I’d probably die back in Boston right now too. Or be made a vampire. So I wasn’t sure it mattered too much, but I’d like to see my options. At least with Kristian, I’d be alive in undeath.
The Speaker looked down his nose at me. “You’ll live out your years here imprisoned if you survive but fail the trial. We cannot let you go free. You understand, we have to keep our secrets our own.”
“Of course,” I said, but my thoughts were scattered and panicked. Complete the trial and maybe die, or live out my life here imprisoned for decades. What a choice.
“If you really are the Warden, it will be an easy victory for you,” the Speaker said. “All you have to do is use your magic to walk on water.”
My eyebrow rose. “Walk. On water?”
“An easy test for the Warden,” the Speaker said. “Afterward, you will have your answers. Not before.”
Because if I knew the answers to m
y magic and apparent destiny, it might make this trial too easy. Or me too much of a security risk.
I knew nothing. Not how to use this magic they all spoke of. Not how to walk on water.
But I knew that Zezza and I shared something soul-deep. And that, together, we’d escaped Keir. And that for the first time in years, when I looked at her, I felt connected to something much larger to myself.
So yeah. Why not try to walk on water. What’s a minor miracle or two?
Chapter 13
The four of us headed back to the beach. Zezza flew above and around us in sweeping circles, letting out happy noises and dragon roars that were more cute than menacing. I couldn’t look at her and picture a full-grown dragon.
A much more pressing concern: How was I going to walk on water?
What kind of test was that? Even if I had magic—even if I accepted that it had been my power that had pushed Keir away on the train this morning and not Zezza’s—how was I going to do what most considered a miracle?
I sifted through what I knew to be true. I had somehow used wind to push Keir away from Zezza and me on the train. Zezza’s whole body seemed to regularly conduct lightning. And they kept calling me the Warden of the Storm. Wind and lightning, both were things Zezza appeared to have control over. Which meant the only element missing from a storm was water.
So, if Zezza could do these things and since I’d watched Eli and Elena wield lightning and thunder, it was entirely possible that the Speaker thought I should be able to use these elements and magics too.
I should be able to do this—if they’re all right.
The question was: are they right?
I bit the inside of my cheek as we walked. Eli and the others followed the Speaker’s orders and remained silent to not accidentally give me advice. I wished Eli would break the rules. At first, Eli had been the most imposing and almost intimidating. But the longer I was here, the more he became the warmest of the dragon shifters. And not just because his body literally radiated a warmth that soothed my nerves and made me feel alive in a way I didn’t totally understand. He was attractive, sure. But my attention and thoughts seemed drawn to him in a way that was something beyond simple attraction.