by Rinelle Grey
Other than Prince Taurian, who had been woken a few weeks ago, the princes had all been asleep for over three hundred years—far longer than she had been alive. So it couldn’t be one of the princes.
Of course it couldn’t. Because the goddess had also said that this person would be forbidden. A shiver ran up Wayrian’s spine. The goddess had said that she would have to go against all she believed in for love.
There was nothing forbidden about her marrying one of the princes.
Of course, that meant her fated mate could be just about anyone. Yet, as Wayrian reviewed all the dragons of mating age, she could come up with none she felt any sort of attraction for, or even fondness. She couldn’t imagine that any of them could be her fated mate. So who?
Her heart beat a little faster. It couldn’t be…
No, it couldn’t… Even the strange, angry goddess would not do that to her, would she?
What if it was a dragon from the Trima clan?
Technically she had ‘met’ several of them at the last battle, though it had all happened far too quickly and been far too chaotic for her to even recognise them again. Except for Ultrima.
Fear of the clan enemy almost paralysed her for a moment, then she forced herself to take a deep breath and push the terror away. If, by some miracle, the goddess did exist and her challenge was true, surely she would not give Wayrian a task that impossible?
Wayrian gave herself a mental shake. Why was she even considering this so seriously? She was letting her imagination run away with her again. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Born of her fears of defying her grandfather, and her sadness that she would never have a chance to find real love.
“Wayrian!” This time the voice was not inside her head. It sent her scrambling for her clothes.
It wasn’t until she was pulling on her leather tunic that she saw it.
It was faint, barely noticeable, that was why she hadn’t seen it sooner. But there was clearly a strange pattern, a little like a wattle flower, on the inside of her wrist.
The mark she’d seen in her dream.
The mark the goddess had told her would help her find her fated mate.
Wayrian froze, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Was it real? Had it somehow really happened?
If so, what did it mean? Who did the strange flower represent?
It couldn’t… it couldn’t be a lightning bolt, could it?
Wayrian stared at the flower, trying to reassure herself, but she couldn’t be certain. Some of the enemy dragons had thrown balls of lightning that could vaguely be described as flower like.
She stared at the mark for long enough that her grandfather’s presence interrupted her thoughts. He barged into the room, ignoring the fact that she was only half dressed. “They’re leaving now, and you’re going to be left behind.” He grabbed her arm and looked at it. “What are you staring at?
Wayrian wished she could snatch her arm away before he saw. The last thing she wanted was to explain the goddess’s dream to her grandfather.
But it was too late. Wayrian held her breath as he squinted at her wrist.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It was kind of faint and his eyesight wasn’t as good as it used to be.
No such luck. He poked at her skin where the flower was, then he used his water powers to dampen it a little and scrubbed at it, the way he’d cleaned her scraped knees after she’d been playing in the dirt as a child.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t I be heading outside so I don’t get left behind?”
“It’s obviously not nothing,” her grandfather snapped. “What is it, and how did it get there?”
“I’ll miss the cars if I don’t go now,” Wayrian said desperately. “I can explain later.”
“If you’d stop protesting and tell me what’s going on, then it would be done and you’d be on your way,” her grandfather said firmly. He stared at her, waiting, not releasing her wrist.
For a moment, Wayrian was tempted to wait it out. If she didn’t say anything, would his need for her to be at the waking to impress Prince Verrian outweigh his need to know the answer?
Did she dare to find out?
She should be able to ignore his demands and do her own thing. She’d turned twenty-one, and been considered an adult dragon for three years now. She shouldn’t still be doing what her grandfather told her.
But when your grandfather was an elder, it wasn’t so simple. Every command he gave her was ‘for the good of the clan’, and to say no to that would imply she didn’t care about her clan, which wasn’t the case at all. Rian clan was the only thing Wayrian had ever known, she couldn’t even begin to imagine life without them. They were her family. Her home. Of course she wanted to do anything she could to help her clan.
The trouble was telling what was about her clan, and what was just about her.
If the issue was only about her, she was pretty good at being quietly stubborn. It was what water dragons did best. And it had always worked against her air dragon mother. Her mother had always forgotten about an issue long before Wayrian gave in.
Her father, another water dragon, not so much. But he’d doted on his daughter and given her everything she wanted with very little encouragement.
For a moment, she felt a familiar ache, a sadness at losing her parents in the last attempt to wake one of the princes more than ten years ago. Her mother had been shot out of the sky by one of Ultrima’s bolts of lightning, and her father, mate bonded, had only lived long enough to lament the fact that he hadn’t been able to protect her.
Their deaths had left Wayrian in her grandfather’s sole care, and changed her life dramatically. Her grandfather had never forgiven her mother for his son’s death, and Wayrian was sure that was why he’d been so hard on her since he’d taken over her care. She might be a water dragon, like her father, but she looked more like her mother, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.
Washed out, her grandfather always said.
Wayrian had thought her mother was beautiful.
Her grandfather had never hidden the fact that he thought love was weak. He’d never mated permanently with her father’s mother, his only child being born of a random mating. He’d felt no pain when her grandmother had died.
He believed there was no point in mating unless it achieved something more. Something for the whole clan. Otherwise, it just made them weaker.
“Answer the question,” her grandfather demanded, his voice sharp.
He stared at her, his eyes dark, and somehow, in the memory of her mother and father and the power of their love, Wayrian found the strength to straighten her shoulders, stare him in the eyes, and say nothing.
Annoyance flashed across his face and he shifted a little, as though to get comfortable for a long wait.
Two water dragons trying to out stubborn each other could take days. Wayrian had been in those battles before. Usually, she lost. Mostly because her stomach rumbling distracted her.
But not this time.
This time, she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.
If nothing else, the battle of stubbornness would get her out of going to the real battle. It would be over long before either of them gave up. That thought gave her an extra reason to stick out her lower lip and say nothing.
Her grandfather changed tack with a suddenness that took her breath away. “We don’t have time for this. You can tell me on the way.” And he started marching her towards the door.
On the way…?
Wayrian’s heart rate sped up.
The only thing worse than going into the middle of a potential battle, would be going with her grandfather.
If he wasn’t there, all he would have to go on would be the stories of the others, none of who would be paying any attention to what she was doing.
If he were there, he would be pushing her into the middle of the fight, hoping she’d impress Prince Verrian. Panic rose up in Wayrian at the thought.
Tha
t was the last place she wanted to be.
Suddenly, telling him about the dream seemed minor in comparison.
“It was a dream,” she blurted out.
Her grandfather paused and his grip on her wrist loosened a bit. “Go on,” he prompted.
Wayrian squirmed a little, feeling lousy for being tricked into giving in so easily. As she tried to think of the words to explain, she realised it was going to sound made up, no matter how she put it.
Then again, she did have the mark on her arm as proof. Of a sort.
“I dreamt that a goddess, Allendra, pulled a whole heap of shifters together in one room. Not just dragons, but other types as well. Did you know there were other types of shifters, Grandfather?” Wayrian looked up, hoping to catch an answer on his face, even if he didn’t admit anything.
But his expression was blank. “It’s a dream. How would I know what would happen in your dream?”
That didn’t bode well for him believing her.
Wayrian swallowed. “She said she was tired of us fighting all the time and that she was going to take away our dragon form. Turn us back into humans.”
Her grandfather raised an eyebrow. “If she’s punishing dragons for fighting, it is the Trima clan she should be focusing on, not us. Your dream is very nonsensical, youngling.”
Wayrian ignored the fact that she sort of agreed with him, and that he seemed to be discounting her dream as a simple fantasy. For some reason, she felt the need to tell him, as though to unburden herself to someone. Maybe he would see something in the dream that she had missed.
Maybe he’d be able to convince her that it really was just a dream
“She said she was giving us one last chance to redeem ourselves. If we all proved that we could think of more than fighting by mating with our fated mates by the Blood Moon, she’d let us remain as shifters.”
Wayrian waited, holding her breath. What would he think of her dream? Would he dismiss it?
She half hoped he would. It would make it easier for her to do the same.
She didn’t want all that responsibility on her shoulders. Maybe if her grandfather intervened…
“A silly, girly dream,” her grandfather said flatly. “Real mating is nothing like dreams. And what does it have to do with the mark on your wrist anyway?”
Her face heated. How had she left that bit off when that was what had sparked the question?
“It’s supposed to give me a clue as to who my fated mate is.”
Her grandfather bent and examined the mark again, his expression unreadable. He turned her wrist one way, and then the other, squinting at it. “Perhaps it could be water droplets?” he mused. “Prince Calrian is a water dragon, and though mating water with water isn’t a good plan, it is better than fire and water.”
“I thought it looked a little like a wattle flower,” Wayrian blurted out.
“And how would a wattle flower represent one of the princes?” her grandfather asked. His gaze narrowed. “Or do you have someone in mind? You’re not going to refuse to help your clan because of a dream, are you? It is important that you, a dragon, mate with Prince Verrian, before this whole thing gets too out of hand.”
Wayrian still wasn’t sure how mating with a prince she didn’t even know would help the clan, but she wasn’t going to say that. It wouldn’t do any good. But she couldn’t help muttering to herself, “Yeah, takes a lot of effort to send me out into a battle to impress a prince none of us have ever met.”
She was sure she’d only said it in her mind, not out loud, but she shrank back from the frown on her grandfather’s face anyway.
Despite her reluctance to anger him further, she couldn’t just let it go. His quick dismissal had soothed none of her nerves. She wanted a thought out, reasoned answer as to why she should dismiss the dream. Maybe that would make ignoring it easier.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “But, Grandfather, what if it’s true? What if the goddess does turn everyone human if I don’t mate with the man she believes I should?”
He stared at her for a few minutes, then shook his head. “I will not change my plan over a silly dream that is nothing more than your girlish wish for some fantasy of fated mates. We don’t have time for this nonsense.” He released her wrist and turned away. “It is a bunch of scratches, nothing more. Now hurry up and get dressed, or we’ll miss the battle.”
He spoke like they were going to a feast.
Wait a minute.
“We?” Wayrian asked nervously.
“Yes,” her grandfather said. “You’re obviously distracted by this dream, and if no one is there to remind you of the seriousness of the situation, you will miss the chance to impress Prince Verrian. I can’t have that. He may notice one of those humans instead. I will have to come with you.”
Come with her? Wayrian’s shoulders slumped. It didn’t matter that she’d given him the information he wanted, he was still going to come. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that the mark on her wrist couldn’t mean she was supposed to mate with Prince Verrian, because she’d never met him and he wasn’t forbidden in any way.
But she knew that wasn’t going to convince her grandfather.
She had thought that hearing him dismiss the dream would help her to do the same, but it didn’t. Somehow, it only made her more convinced that it had been real. It made her hope she might have a purpose greater than her grandfather’s prejudiced goals. But there was no point in saying that. Once he had his mind made up, nothing would convince him to change it.
She bit back a sigh. “Yes, Grandfather,” she said in a small voice.
She pulled the rest of her clothes on as she followed her grandfather out to the human vehicles, the memory of the dream and its possible meaning pushed aside by a jolt of adrenalin at the fact that she was about to go help defend Prince Verrian as the human woman woke him.
Wayrian - Chapter 2
As soon as Wayrian stepped out of the underground lair, the heat hit her full force. Despite the fact that the sun hadn’t risen far yet, it was already hot enough for an almost instant sweat to form on her brow.
Wayrian barely noticed. She was too busy staring around at the bustle of vehicles, humans, and dragons. There were so many of them. She counted six utes, five with the metal cages on the back, and one without.
The one without a cage must be Chase’s fireworks vehicle. She caught sight of him, his distinctive board-brimmed hat standing out as he bent over the vehicle, double checking the fireworks. Wayrian found her gaze lingering on how his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of the shirt he wore. But when her gaze slipped lower, noting how his tight jeans hugged his buttocks, she caught herself.
What was she doing? Why on earth was she staring at Chase? Yes, he might have turned the tide in this dragon war, but that was no excuse for staring at his butt.
Yet, for some reason, her stomach did a flip flop.
Probably from nerves.
Her grandfather was having no such problems. He marched straight up to Prince Taurian. “I have decided to accompany you,” he announced, his voice indicating that they should all be grateful for his presence. “Which vehicle are we riding in?”
Ever polite, Prince Taurian looked around, then pointed to a ute to his left. “I believe there is room for both of you in Karla’s father’s vehicle.”
He gave Wayrian a kind smile. He was always kind. As perfect as a prince could be.
“You want me to ride with a human?” her grandfather demanded.
“Well, they are the only ones who can drive their vehicles,” Taurian pointed out, his voice amused. “And unfortunately, we can only fit three people per vehicle.”
Her grandfather had to see the sense in that, didn’t he? Wayrian was relieved that he only grumbled a bit before he headed towards the indicated car.
Wayrian climbed into the vehicle, sitting on the bench seat squeezed between her grandfather and Karla’s father, near the front of the cavalcade.
As
the car jolted over the rough dirt track, Wayrian twisted around in her seat to see behind them. The column of vehicles spread out in a long line, half obliterated by the dust the mechanical beasts stirred up. Where was the fireworks car?
Why was she so concerned about where it was? It wasn’t like they were going to leave it behind.
“Sit down,” her grandfather ordered. “You’re shaking the whole vehicle.”
Wayrian’s cheeks flamed as she sat back down, not moving. How did her grandfather always manage to embarrass her like that? She stared ahead, not moving.
But her heart wouldn’t stop hammering.
They were on their way. There was no backing out now.
Soon, Lisa would enter Prince Verrian’s Mesmer chamber to wake him, and the rest of them would wait outside to protect them if the Trima clan showed up.
And he was sure to be there. He might have extended a truce towards Rian clan after the last battle, but he’d been clear it only extended to those in the clan, not to the rest of Taurian’s brothers and sisters if they attempted to wake them.
Which, of course, was just what they were about to do.
There were no two ways about it, they were riding directly into a battle. A battle such as the one that had killed her mother. Would the humans’ help mean this battle had a different outcome?
Or would she be the one hit by a bolt of lightning this time? There was every chance she could die in this battle. Didn’t her grandfather realise that?
Wayrian’s stomach rolled in time with the movement of the car, making her feel ill.
She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. With the humans’ help, the last battle against Ultrima had been a success. No one could argue that. This one would be too.
She didn’t see Karla’s father’s gun, but she was sure he had it somewhere. The human guns were powerful, a great asset, but they weren’t what had turned the tide in the last battle. The strange metal cages that Chase had made on the back of the vehicles protected them against the Trima dragon’s lightning, and his fireworks had intimidated the flying enemies. That had been the only reason they hadn’t all died in the last fight.