It was hard to say.
Nothing had made sense in this crazy place.
“Yes,” the dragon grudgingly admitted. “It is the only way to protect her until I can find a way to break the curse.”
Torque nodded. “Have you had any luck?”
“Not so far,” Ravel said, frustration smoldering in her pale eyes. “Blayze claims she can sense the creature responsible for cursing her, but I can’t be sure it’s not just a figment of her growing instability.”
Torque was struck by a sudden thought. “Could Sylvermyst be involved?”
Ravel blinked in confusion. “Why would you believe the dark fey were connected?”
“We think they’re the ones who brought the frost sprites here.”
“Why would they do that?” she demanded.
Torque shrugged. “We don’t know.”
Looking more impatient than concerned, the dragon turned and gave a wave of her hand.
Instantly a shimmering circle appeared, hovering in midair. The dragon gave another wave of her hand and the circle widened, revealing the image of an icy cavern.
Torque assumed Ravel had created a tiny portal to check on her daughter.
Like a magical nanny-cam.
Covertly inching his way to the side so he could see through the opening, Torque wasn’t entirely surprised at the sight of the strange fey who were standing beside a large swell of ice. The three had varying shades of hair and eyes, but they looked enough alike to make Torque assume they were siblings.
They had to be the Sylvermyst responsible for opening the portals.
His gaze moved to study the motionless female form lying on the ground. It looked like another Sylvermyst, although the others weren’t paying attention to her. Instead they were all focused on the huge mound of ice in the center of the floor.
There was a hiss from the female dragon, the air heating as she leaned toward the portal. “They’ve stolen my treasure.”
Holy shit. Torque grimaced as his gaze caught sight of the cavities roughly gouged into the frozen floor. Were the dark fey truly stupid enough to try and steal a dragon’s hoard?
Rya stepped to stand at his side. “Look.” She pointed toward the male form almost hidden by the tallest of the Sylvermyst. “It’s Finn.”
The heat in the air intensified as Ravel growled low in her throat.
“The fool,” she rasped as they watched Finn lift his hand and point it toward the mound of ice. “What is he doing?”
Torque felt a childish stab of pleasure at the female dragon’s annoyance with the sprite.
Rya, however, was swift to rush to defend her friend.
“He came here to save his people. I think the Sylvermyst must be forcing him to use his powers,” she murmured. “Is there more treasure under the ice?”
“No.” The ground shook beneath their feet as Ravel’s power caused a ripple of tiny quakes. “It’s Blayze.”
The dread pulsing in the air became a tangible threat.
Torque’s stomach clenched at the potent sense of danger.
“Why would they want to release your daughter?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ravel snapped. “They must be stopped.”
Magic exploded through the room, the illusion of a cavern shattering to reveal they were standing in the middle of a swirling mist.
Torque stiffened, unnerved by the strange fog.
The ground beneath his feet was solid, but everything else felt…unsubstantial.
Before he could adjust, however, Ravel was pivoting to move away from them. Not about to be left behind in the haze, Torque grabbed Rya’s hand and hurried after her.
“Hey,” Levet called from behind them. “Wait for me.”
***
Finn’s powers faltered as a dense wave of evil crawled over him. The sensation made his hair stand on end and his skin feel too tight for his body.
Hell.
He didn’t know what was under the mound, and he didn’t want to know.
As if sensing Finn’s less than enthusiastic participation in removing the ice, Micah turned his head to glare at him.
“Why are you stopping?” he growled.
Finn kept his hand extended, although his magic was a mere trickle.
“I’m doing the best I can,” he muttered.
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
He was exhausted and in need of food. His powers were running on empty.
“It’s not good enough,” Micah snapped, his eyes shimmering with a feverish hunger.
Finn took an instinctive step away. He suspected that whatever nastiness was floating in the air had already infected the Sylvermyst.
“This isn’t natural ice,” he reminded the male. “It’s protected by a powerful magic.”
“All I hear is excuses,” Micah snarled.
“It’s not an excuse—” Finn bit off his words as Micah turned around and violently slammed his foot against the side of Adair’s face. The unconscious female jerked, but she didn’t wake, thank the goddess. “Stop,” he commanded.
Micah deliberately touched the bow that was strapped across his chest.
“If you care whether the bitch lives or dies, you’ll try harder.”
Finn hissed with frustration. “I can’t perform miracles.”
“Now.” Micah leaned forward, the stench of rotting herbs wafting from him. The male had gone from greedy to full-throttle frantic.
The next step was no doubt batshit crazy.
“Dammit,” Finn muttered, releasing the last dredges of his magic.
Small fractures began to form over the top layer of the ice. Like an eggshell being cracked.
Micah released a sharp laugh, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.
“It’s working,” he crowed in pleasure, seemingly unaware of the ominous glow of light that was spreading deep beneath the ice.
His joyous mood wasn’t shared by the others in the cavern. Jarvis and Lila inched backward, their expressions reflecting a snowballing sense of dismay.
“Micah,” the younger male Sylvermyst muttered. “Maybe we should—”
“Not now,” Micah snarled, interrupting his brother even as he sent Finn a fierce glare. “Keep going,” he ordered, turning back so he could step closer to the shattered ice. “I see something.”
Finn could see something too. Something that had an iridescent shimmer. A brief sense of relief eased Finn’s raw nerves.
Maybe it was just a pile of gems that’d been coated with an aversion spell. That would explain the thick dread that pulsed through the air.
But as the ice continued to break away, his premature relief was snatched from him.
The lustrous gleam wasn’t coming from a priceless jewel. Instead he could see an inky blackness beneath the shimmer.
Was that a scale?
“It’s not treasure,” he muttered, his hand dropping as he continued to back away.
Lila cursed, pulling the bow over her head and grabbing an arrow.
“He’s right, Micah,” she warned.
“Keep your mouth shut,” the male growled, his narrow face bathed in the light shining from the ice. “I won’t be denied. Not when I’m so close.”
“Idiot,” Finn muttered, angling his retreat until he could lean down and scoop Adair in his arms.
Thankfully no one was paying attention to him. The Sylvermyst were fully consumed with the sight of the ice cracking and popping. Whatever was beneath was shedding the thick coating.
Which meant Finn had time to cradle Adair against his chest and duck into the hidden tunnel just before all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rya had a split second to reach for Levet’s outstretched hand before Torque was dragging her through the weird fog. Hanging onto the tiny demon, she tried to ignore the mist that swirled around them.
Just seconds ago she would have been convinced there was nothing more unnerving than the ice that wasn’t ice. The sensation of being tr
apped in the maze was something that was going to give her nightmares for weeks.
Now, however, she realized the fog was worse.
Much worse.
Not only did it hide any enemies that might be lurking nearby, but it gave her the sensation that they were running through clouds. As if the world wasn’t quite solid.
“What is this place?” she muttered.
“It’s a small pocket between dimensions,” Ravel answered, her hectic pace never slowing.
Rya grimaced. She’d traveled through portals that were basically holes that burrowed through dimensions, but she’d never visited the space in between.
Now she knew why.
“How can you tell where we’re going?” she demanded.
Ravel waved an impatient hand, her robe fluttering around her despite the lack of a breeze. In fact, the air was stifling. And eerily thick.
“We must hurry,” the dragon warned. “Blayze is already awake.”
Rya shivered, clutching Torque’s fingers even as Levet clung to her other hand.
“I can feel her,” she muttered, almost able to taste the darkness in the air. “It’s…evil.”
“It’s not her,” Ravel protested. “It’s the curse.”
Rya grimaced. She believed the dragon. The malevolent sensations that vibrated in the air were magical, not physical.
At last Ravel slowed her pace and came to a halt. Then, with a dramatic gesture, she gave a wave of her arms.
The fog moved aside, like a shroud being parted to reveal the cavern they’d glimpsed when they were still in Ravel’s lair.
Or at least she thought it was. Only now the ice was gone and instead of a mound in the middle of the floor there was a very large, very angry dragon spewing fire at a tall, redheaded male.
“I think we might be too late,” Torque muttered.
Rya grimaced, taking in the sight of the infuriated dragon.
She was lovely. In a lethal, melt-your-flesh and chomp-on-your-bones kind of way. Her scales were a deep ebony with a glossy sheen. Her eyes were pearly white and shimmering with a radiant light. Her snout was long and elegant, although at the moment it was widely parted to release her fire.
“Help,” a female screamed from across the cavern. “You have to stop her.”
Rya’s attention moved toward the two fey who were huddled together, trying to inch away from the beast who’d finished with their companion and was turning her head in their direction.
“This is your fault,” Ravel insisted, flames dancing over her skin at the sight of her daughter in full fury. “Why did you release her?”
“It wasn’t us,” the female babbled, her hand waving toward the crispy remains of the dead male. “It was Micah.”
Rya grimaced. Nothing like throwing their companion under the bus. Or the angry dragon.
Then her gaze continued to sweep around the cavern as she searched for any sight of Finn. It took only a minute to accept that he wasn’t there.
Refusing to believe that he might already be a dragon-snack, she instead convinced herself that the prince had somehow managed to disappear. Along with the unconscious female.
“Blayze,” Ravel murmured in soothing tones, slowly walking forward.
She’d taken fewer than a half dozen steps when the two strangers lost the last of their nerves. With tiny squeals they scrambled away from the massive beast, no doubt hoping to get lost in the nearby mist.
“No,” Ravel barked, holding up her hand in warning. “Don’t move.”
“Fuck that,” the female rasped, knocking her companion out of the way as she raced into the fog.
She was fast, but not fast enough as the dragon released a thunderous roar before she spewed a stream of white-hot fire that turned the two fey into piles of ash.
Yow.
Rya was half dragon, but she was smart enough to stand as still as a statue. No need to draw the attention of her pissy sister.
“Mon dieu,” Levet breathed softly, for once doing nothing to try and create a scene.
Smart gargoyle.
Barely glancing toward the charred fey, Ravel continued forward, her movements deliberately slow. “Blayze.”
The narrow head swiveled in Ravel’s direction, the eyes still blazing with anger. Ignoring the danger, the older dragon continued toward her daughter, murmuring low words that Rya couldn’t hear.
Seconds ticked past. The heat in the air eased, although the evil power continued to beat at Rya like a weapon.
Then, with a surprisingly gentle wave of magic, the infuriated dragon was surrounded by a swirl of sparkles. When they at last faded, a tall, slender female wearing a beaded robe stood in the center of the floor.
Wow. Rya blinked in shock. If Blayze’s dragon was lovely, her human form was…breathtaking.
Her long black hair spilled down her back in a river of ebony, and her pale eyes were sprinkled with brilliant flecks of color. Her features were elegantly carved with full lips and a slender nose, and she had one charming dimple in her right cheek.
The last of the smothering heat dissipated, but a dark sense of doom remained.
Seemingly disoriented from her shift to human, Blayze gave a vague shake of her head. “Mother?” she murmured, warily watching the older female walk toward her.
Ravel held out her hand. “I’m here, darling.”
The pale gaze moved in the direction of the black scorch marks that had once been three Sylvermyst.
“Intruders,” she said, her pretty features hardening with anger.
“Yes, but you took care of them.”
The pale gaze drifted toward Rya. “Not all of them.”
Oh, damn. Rya stiffened even as Torque stepped to block her from the dragon’s sight, his fire moving over his skin as he prepared to attack.
“These are friends,” she heard Ravel assure her daughter. “They don’t mean you any harm.”
“No,” the younger dragon breathed. “Stay back.”
“Blayze, what’s wrong?” Ravel demanded.
Inching to the side, Rya glanced around Torque’s broad shoulder to see Blayze hold up a slender hand, her eyes beginning to glow with her dreadful power.
“I said to stay back,” she hissed.
Ravel faltered, clearly torn between the need to reach her daughter and a fear she might push her over the edge of sanity. “Listen to me,” she pleaded. “You’re safe.”
Blayze shook her head, the floor near her feet cracking beneath an unseen pressure.
Rya shivered. It wasn’t the curse that was causing the ground to vibrate or the nearby mist to swirl.
Or at least it didn’t feel evil.
Instead it held an edge of desperation as the young dragon backed from her mother.
“I won’t be trapped again.”
“Trapped?” Ravel shook her head, her expression heart-wrenchingly sad. “No one is going to trap you, my darling. But you must be protected.”
The crooning words did nothing to ease Blayze’s spiraling panic.
“No more,” she rasped, her ebony hair floating around her face as she created a white-hot ball of flames that danced in the palm of her hand. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Ravel halted, glancing over her shoulder at Torque. “We can’t let her escape.”
Rya sucked in a horrified breath, but before she could protest, Torque was swiftly moving to stand on the other side of the increasingly desperate female.
Was the aggravating male intending to try and physically halt a full-blooded dragon?
“Torque.” His name was wrenched from her lips as she took an impulsive step toward him.
Without warning, Levet reached to grab her hand, holding on with surprising strength.
“Non, ma belle.”
“Let me go,” she commanded, trying to tug her hand free as she watched the female dragon head toward her betrothed, the fireball growing larger as she prepared to attack. “I have to do something. She’s going to kill Torque.”
&n
bsp; The tiny creature wrinkled his nose. “Not much of a loss.”
“Levet,” she snapped.
“Forgive me. Now is not the time to discuss your mate’s unpleasant manners.” He wrinkled his snout. “Not when your mother is shouting so loudly.”
Rya halted her attempts to break free, instead turning to gape at the gargoyle in disbelief.
“My mother?” she demanded, waiting for him to give a small nod. “She’s here?”
Levet tapped the side of his head with a claw. “Here.”
“Oh, thank the goddess.” Rya pressed a hand over her heart. Her mother was still alive. And hopefully close enough that she could join them. Her magic was exactly what they needed at this moment. “Can she tell you how to find her?”
“There is no time,” Levet muttered. “We must do it this way.”
Rya frowned. “What way?”
The words had barely left her lips when the voice of her mother hammered into her brain.
Rya.
Holy shit.
She reeled, nearly falling to her knees as she absorbed the impact of the connection. “Mother?”
I’m here.
“Where are you?” Rya spoke out loud, unsure exactly how the magic worked.
It doesn’t matter now, her mother said, her tone clipped with impatience.
Rya frowned. “But—”
She overrode Rya’s protest. You must open yourself to my powers.
Rya struggled to clear her mind. She’d worry about locating her mother later. For now, they needed her magic.
“How?” she asked.
I’m using the gargoyle as a transmitter, her mother explained.
Levet made a sound of distress. “Hey, wait. I am no transformer.”
Both women ignored him. Instead, Rya closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of her mother that was nestled in the center of her brain.
Instantly she felt a sensation of peace flow through her, easing the raw fear.
Her mother had many gifts, but one of her greatest was spreading a sense of calm. She’d always thought that had been the reason Synge had been so fond of her mother. The older Shinto could offer a temporary relief from Synge’s savage, sometimes downright aggressive instincts.
“Now what?” she asked.
Allow the magic to flow through you, her mother commanded.
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