by Tara West
“Welcome to Valhol,” Acheron said, “the mountainous region of the fourth realm and the original home to dragons.”
After grandmother checked on Serah, Teju, and the eggs, she clasped her hands to her heart. “All seems well. You’re safe here. Won’t you shift?”
Ladon and Draque did so.
“Are you sure they’re going to be okay?” Ladon asked, hurrying to Serah’s side. They and the eggs were covered in a yellow powder.
“They’ll be fine,” Grandmother assured him. “They’ll sleep it off, and the powder can’t penetrate the shells.”
“Thank the goddess,” Draque said, shoulders slumping.
“Now let me hug you!”
Draque cringed when she plastered his face with kisses. Ladon chuckled at his reaction.
Then Ladon was swept up in her embrace, which was surprisingly strong for an old woman. She smelled of mint leaves and fresh mountain air, not the lavender scent he remembered from childhood.
She pulled back, clutching his shoulders. “Are you hungry, grandson?”
As if on cue, the scent of roasting meat hit him, and his stomach rumbled. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he was famished. “Always.”
He smiled, remembering how much she had loved feeding him, especially homemade pies. The sparse cavern had a primitive bonfire in the center. She probably wouldn’t be baking him pies anytime soon. His nostrils flared when they reached the back of the cavern and the smell of cooking meat grew stronger.
A broad grin brightened her sun-kissed face as she waved at a pile of large leaves covering a smoking hole. “Your grandfathers killed a goat this morning. They’ve been roasting it all day.”
Ladon licked his lips. “It smells delicious.” He looked over at Serah and Teju, hoping the tempting odor would wake them.
“Your mate and brother are fine,” she said. “They will wake when they’re ready.”
His grandfathers stripped away the leaves from the meat.
“What do you think of our mountain home?” Acheron asked with a wink. Ladon remembered his alpha grandfather as the most serious of the three, but now he seemed much more relaxed.
“It’s magnificent,” Draque answered.
“The mountain air is rejuvenating, isn’t it?” Jagua sucked in a deep breath as if to emphasize his point.
“Is that why you look healthy and younger?” Ladon asked. Though the air was thinner, and he had to work harder to draw breath, it seemed cleaner than the air in The Grotto.
Grandmother pinched his cheek, eyes sparkling. “Always a sweet boy.”
“We believe so,” Jagua answered. “Fresh air, fresh food, and we’re free from the worries of the world.”
That last part didn’t sit well with Ladon.
Free from the mess that they left for our parents, Draque said to Ladon.
Yeah, Ladon agreed. Not cool.
EVEN THOUGH THE ROASTED goat was delicious, salted to perfection, and wrapped in edible leaves, Draque and Ladon mostly ate in silence. Their grandfathers smoked spice pipes, passed around a jug of wine, and bragged about their victorious hunts. Meanwhile, their mother and fathers were back at The Grotto, working tirelessly to restore their kingdom after Nathaniel Goldenwand’s sanctions had nearly forced their people into starvation.
Grandfather Acheron blew out a long puff of smoke and gave Draque and Ladon a long look. “Why so quiet, grandsons?”
“You know why,” Draque answered, heart heavy.
Jagua took the pipe from Acheron. “You were just hatchlings when we left. We could not guarantee you would keep our secret.”
“Nathaniel Goldenwand has been in exile a year,” Ladon said. “Why haven’t you come back?”
“Our parents have been working tirelessly to restore our homeland. Your homeland,” Draque said bitterly.
“I know you think us selfish for staying here.” Grandmother’s voice dropped. “But you must understand, King Tormung has given us no choice.”
“He’s making you stay?” Draque had a hard time believing that, given his disdain toward shifters.
“He had bad anxiety before your grandmother brewed potions for him.” Domov’s eyes went from brown to gold. “Now he cannot function without her.”
“So he forces you to remain though you are shifters?” Ladon asked, his voice rising several octaves.
“He hates witches, too.” Grandmother chuckled. “But he tolerates us.”
“I still think you should return home,” Draque grumbled. “Tormung can find a new healer.”
Acheron shook his head. “Tormung trusts no other witches.”
“If you think he is aggressive now,” Grandmother said fearfully, “you don’t want to see him when I don’t brew his medicine.”
Instead of feeling sympathy for her, Draque was even more aggravated. Tormung must have made his grandparents’ lives hell on a daily basis, yet here they were. “So you stay to keep him happy?”
The lines framing her eyes and mouth became more pronounced. “I stay to keep the world safe from him.”
Was Tormung that much of a threat? “What could he do?”
“A full-blooded dragon is more powerful than a shifter, grandson.” Grandmother wrapped her arms around herself and rocked forward, locking eyes on him. “Their fire burns hotter and longer, and their scales are thicker, virtually impenetrable.”
Though the mountain air had made her skin and eyes more radiant, he noticed for the first time the deeper wrinkles around her mouth, as if she’d spent a lot of time frowning or worrying. He wondered if they had been caused by age or stress from Tormung. He’d disliked the dragon king already, but now he resented him almost as much as he loathed Nathaniel Goldenwand.
Jumping to his feet, Draque paced in front of the fire pit, aggravation making his skull ache. “It is not fair that he’s keeping you from your family.”
“I know it’s not,” she said and sighed.
“He’s given us sanctuary all this time,” Acheron said, somewhat shame-faced. “We have no choice but to return the favor.”
“By cowering to a madman? Did you know Thaddeus has been missing for a year? That we could’ve used your help finding him?”
Grandmother hung her head, a lone tear cascading down her cheek. “We get missives from your parents and your older brothers. We know about Thaddeus.”
So their older brothers had known their grandparents were alive? They trusted brothers who’d run off to join the resistance and not them? That revelation stung.
“We mourn his disappearance every day,” Acheron added solemnly.
“They could focus more on his rescue if you were there helping.” He refused to take pity on them. While they’d been enjoying their cool mountain air and catering to a selfish king, their family was suffering. Draque’s mother never smiled anymore. She wore black in remembrance of Thaddeus, her face a permanent mask of sorrow.
“Draque,” Jagua said, “we’ve already explained why we can’t leave.”
Draque sent Ladon a telepathic message. Do you buy their story, brother?
Why would they lie?
You remember they faked their own deaths, right?
Ladon looked away. That was different.
“So now what?” Draque asked, irritated.
Grandmother folded her hands in her lap. “Now you rest and visit with us while waiting for your brother and mate to wake.”
Stifling a yawn, Draque stretched, not realizing how sore he was until that moment. Their flight had been much too long and he was tired. “I’m in no mood to visit,” he said curtly and glanced at his mate curled up in Teju’s arms, wishing he was holding her instead. He stood and brushed imaginary crumbs off his pants. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to retire for the night.”
He ignored the hurt in her eyes. He had every right to rest after such a long journey.
A loud roar rent the air, turning his blood to ice. His grandparents leaped to their feet with surprising alacrity.
Grandmothe
r shot Draque a forlorn look. “Tormung needs me. I suspect he used all his sleeping powder on your mate and brother.” She rushed to a stone bench and shoved small burlap sacks into her pocket.
Jagua and Domov pulled back the curtain over the door and Acheron shifted, then flattened himself to the ground so Grandmother could climb on. He took off as soon as she’d straddled his neck. Jagua and Domov closed the curtain before Draque could see what direction they’d gone.
“He sounded angry,” Domov said, running a hand through his thinning hair with a shaky hand.
Jagua rolled his eyes. “He’s always angry.”
They aren’t Tormung’s guests, Ladon’s thought-projected to Draque. They’re his slaves.
Chapter Six
VIOLET SWORE UNDER her breath when she slipped on the path’s slick surface. She wasn’t used to moving on such long legs and was completely thrown off balance.
“Are you all right?” Thaddeus whispered at her back.
She brushed him off with an agitated flick of the wrist, trying not to dwell on what he must be thinking about her.
They had been following the dark, musty tunnel for hours, and her muscles were cramping from all the walking. She did her best not to complain, even though Thaddeus’s idea to destroy the griffin eggs was gargoyle-shit crazy.
Why had she gone along with this plan? She should’ve let him go on this suicide mission alone, but the thought of abandoning Thaddeus made her heart ache. Fool that she was, she’d been in love with him and his two mischievous brothers since school. She’d been an awkward, pimple-faced freshman when they were seniors. Though she was certain he didn’t remember the incident, Thaddeus and his brothers had saved her from a bully once, stopping the girl from using a spell that would’ve made her school uniform invisible. After that she’d been love-struck, completely enthralled by them, as were most of the other girls at their school. She was once again enthralled and a complete idiot for following Thaddeus to the evil mage’s pit.
“Hold up a moment,” he implored. “Do you have any more of that energy potion?”
Violet glanced at him. He and his brothers had looked like ancient gods to her back then, tall and broad-shouldered with wonderful shifter eyes that changed from deep brown to blazing gold. The poison meant to dull his heart had taken its toll on him, though. His skin had a gray tinge, his eyes had faded to dull brown, and his thick, dark hair had thinned. How she loathed herself for succumbing to Katherine’s spell and being forced to poison him for almost a year.
Sweat pooled on his forehead, and though he tried to conceal it, she could tell he was in pain by the way the veins bulged in his neck, not to mention the stiffness of his gait. Coming down here had been a terrible idea.
She fingered the potion in her pocket, mostly a mixture of vitamins, herbs, and caffeine. “You’ve had enough,” she said, trying not to sound too patronizing, for she knew it aggravated him more. “Too much is bad for your heart.”
He clutched the side of the cave wall, panting. “Let me just catch my breath then.”
She gritted her teeth to prevent from cursing. This was such a bad idea. “We should turn back and escape.”
“We’re not going back.” He pushed off from the wall and brushed past her.
“You won’t have the strength to defeat Eagleheart.” She chased after him, gasping when she slipped again, then walking faster to match his pace. “It’s a fool’s errand. He will destroy you, and your family will never learn what happened to you.” She hated being so blunt, but she didn’t think he grasped the full magnitude of the threat they were facing.
He stopped as if he’d hit an invisible wall. She held her breath, hoping she’d finally gotten through to him. Back rigid, he turned his head slightly, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. “You may turn back if you wish.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Grunting, he resumed his dangerously fast pace. “Then let’s keep moving.”
“Stubborn dragon,” she mumbled, sucking in a sharp breath when she tripped again. This shifter was going to get them both killed, and she didn’t know who was the bigger fool, him for insisting they carry out this plan or her for going along with it.
ADORA FIRESBREATH COULDN’T shake her guilt. Her grandsons thought she and her mates had taken an early retirement and were enjoying the good life in the mountains of Valhol. If only they knew the daily torture she and her mates endured because of the mad dragon king. As she rode astride Acheron, ignoring the wind whipping her hair across her face, she tried to distance herself from her overwhelming depression.
The moment they landed on the threshold of the uppermost cavern at the top of the highest mountain peak, she felt the tension under Acheron’s thick scales. Tormung’s cave was in more disarray than usual, and there were far too many half-eaten animal carcasses strewn about, many of them babies.
Why would he kill more than he can eat? she projected to Acheron.
I do not understand the why of half his decisions, Acheron responded.
She slid off his back and went into the farthest cavern, past an ornate throne room with several headless and broken golden statues.
What would lead him to destroy his art? she asked, but Acheron didn’t have a chance to answer as another heart-wrenching roar echoed off the cave walls, causing an avalanche of pebbles to rain down on them.
Acheron quickly shielded her with his wing.
She kissed his cheek, then tugged on a scale. “Let’s get this over with.”
The king was in his bedchamber, his treasure scattered in all directions, eyes glossy with tears. “There you are, witch. Did you not hear me calling you?”
She clenched her hands until nails broke skin, steeling herself against his insults. “I came straight away.”
“Not fast enough.” He pouted.
She worked hard to unclench her jaw. “Even if I were to live under your paw, I’d never be fast enough.”
He rose, glowering at Acheron. “Your presence is not needed.”
Adora leaned into her mate, kissing his jowls.
He purred against her. I do not like leaving you with him.
Go, she admonished, attempting to sound confident. I’ll be fine.
I’ll be in the next chamber. Do not hesitate to call if you need me.
She blew him a kiss as he stomped away, his large tail scattering gold coins in his wake.
“I had another waking dream,” Tormung whispered.
Brushing past him, she mixed his sleeping herbs in a large goblet of wine, stirring them with a heavy gold spoon until they dissolved. “Tell me.”
“The same. All the world was ablaze, every lower realm from human to shifter.”
She contemplated his words. These dreams had been coming more frequently, which was disturbing. She wondered if he was having a premonition of some sort. She prayed he wasn’t. “The same dream you’ve been having this past year?”
“This one was different.”
“How so?” she asked as she continued to stir.
“This time I figured out who started the fire.”
Dropping the spoon with a clank, she turned and thought she saw fires blazing in his eyes. “Who?”
His ruby red eyes looked like pools of blood. “Me.”
DRAQUE PACED THE FLOOR waiting for his mate and brother to wake or for Grandmother and Grandfather Acheron to return. Something. Anything. He was tired of being stuck in this cave. Ladon tucked a blanket around Serah’s shoulders and checked on the eggs.
Draque tried to look outside, but his grandfathers stopped him. Apparently, shifters were only allowed to be seen in dragon form, no doubt one of King Tormung’s rules, based on his hatred of shifters.
He heard a heavy thump on the ledge and raced to the cave entrance, relieved when Grandmother appeared on the back of his grandfather. His relief was short-lived when he saw the solemn look in their eyes. “What is it?”
They ignored him, and he quickly got the impression they
were speaking telepathically with Jagua and Domov. “Say it out loud, so we can all hear!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “We are no longer hatchlings, you know.”
Acheron looked him over as if he was sizing up his worth. “We know.”
“King Tormung is going mad,” Grandmother said calmly and smoothed her hair.
Draque snorted. “I could’ve told you that.”
“We think he may become a greater threat to the world than Nathaniel Goldenwand,” Acheron added.
Draque shared wide-eyed looks with Ladon. He doubted anything would match Goldenwand’s evil menace. “How so?”
His grandmother’s mouth was a grim line. She slid off Acheron. “He has waking dreams. Hallucinations.”
Draque arched a brow. “How often?”
“A few times a week,” his grandmother answered.
“What are they about?”
“Burning down the world,” she answered and took Acheron’s hand after he shifted into human form.
Burning down the world? That wasn’t good. What if his dreams came to fruition? Who would be powerful enough to stop him?
The moisture in Draque’s mouth evaporated like a Sawran pool during a summer dry spell. “Do you believe he’ll act on these dreams?”
Her features fell. “I fear he will, and soon. The dreams are becoming more graphic, and they’re lasting longer.”
He ran his tongue over parched lips, wishing for a tall glass of wine. “What can we do to stop him?”
Jagua clasped Draque’s shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, grandson.”
“No dragon can take down Tormung.” Domov laughed bitterly.
Draque dragged a hand through his hair. “Then... what?”
“I will stop him.” Grandmother, straightened, expression defiant.
“You?” Draque’s stomach churned. “How?”
Grandmother looked away, her gaze fixed on her mates. “Poison.”
LADON KNELT BESIDE Draque as they both hovered over Serah and Teju, who’d been tossing and turning, a good sign they’d soon wake. Ladon’s mind had been reeling since Grandmother announced her plan to poison the mad dragon king.