Rania saw the two men talking, then the blacksmith’s frown of surprise. Notus stood up and shimmered blue, then shifted shape.
“Darian wasn’t as astonished as Notus might have expected, but then the blacksmith had been to Fae and seen many marvels. Notus breathed fire in his smithy, heating the forge so Darian could work. The blacksmith took the scraps his son had brought and turned them into marvels, inspired by the wonders he had seen. He made latches and knockers and cooking utensils; he made hooks and clasps for cloaks and marvels of every shape and size. Every item he made was distinctive, both beautiful and functional. On market day, he loaded up his work and went to town, leaving Notus to finish the repairs on the cottage. Darian returned jubilant that night, with a load more metal, a fat purse, and a chicken for their dinner. He told Notus that the items made with dragonfire fetched prices beyond compare, and the two settled into partnership together.”
The vision spun, showing the passing of time and the cycle of the seasons. The hut gradually became a little finer, a little larger, and the blacksmith became a little plumper. Darian was singing at the forge when the vision settled, Notus breathing a splendid torrent of orange fire.
“Gradually, Darian began to tell Notus about Fae. He said it was filled with such wonders that even a dragon couldn’t surprise him, and listed many of them. He told Notus that there was even a maiden there who could spin ice into strands of silver. Notus, shocked at this news of Argenta, shifted shape immediately and demanded to know how to get into Fae. He confided the truth in Darian, who then wanted to help his friend save his beloved. He told Notus all he knew of Fae, advised him to avoid all food and drink, then showed him the hill where he had entered that magickal realm. On the next full moon, they went to the mound, and both could hear the Fae music from within. The sound made Darian shudder with dread and he couldn’t approach any closer.”
Rania saw the hill and the light spilling from a door in its side, then she heard the wild merry music of Fae. Notus shook hands with Darian and walked toward the portal that shone with welcoming golden light. Rania knew he was making a mistake but it was impossible to warn him. She saw that Darian believed the same thing, and that his new friend would be lost forever.
“Notus entered the Dark Queen’s realm willingly, in pursuit of Argenta, and though he tried to be stealthy, he was soon discovered. His true nature was discerned by Maeve and he was put to work, trapped in his dragon form to breathe fire for the forge of a maiden silversmith. This maiden was the daughter of a silversmith: she had volunteered to go to Fae in her father’s stead when the Fae came for him, because her father was ill. Her name was Loreena and she was young, strong and lovely. She was compelled to work rivers of silver into jewelry for the Fae, into dagger hilts and even blades. Loreena had thought she would be only a night in Fae and, by her own accounting, it had been a year and a day. She feared this was only an increment of the truth, for she had heard tales of Fae before. She confided in Notus that she suspected everyone she knew in the mortal realm was dead. He tried to console her but could only breathe more fire for her work and hope that one day her debt to the Dark Queen would be paid.”
“In time, Loreena told him of the source of the silver. She was commanded to work all of it into weapons, but suspected the supply would never be diminished. Each day, there was just as much of it as there had been the day before. This was because Olaf had traded Argenta to Maeve in exchange for a spell to see his hoard defended while he was at war. Since he’d died, the spell had been dissolved and the hoard stolen, but Argenta had remained captive in Fae, spinning silver endlessly.”
Rania sat up straighter at this evidence of Maeve not keeping her pledge.
“Notus heard from Loreena how the maiden who spun the silver had come to believe that her father had been infinitely kinder than the Fae, for she was given no rest at all in the enchanted realm. Maeve’s appetite for silver was voracious beyond anything she had known before. When Notus told Loreena his tale of his lost mate, who was Argenta, they schemed together to save her. They realized they could combine their efforts to free all three of them from captivity. They waited until the night of All Hallows, when the Fae were going to ride into the mortal realm on their wild ride, for the veil between realms was said to be thin on that night. Notus freed Argenta from her prison: Loreena knew the locks and locations of keys, as well as the maze of Fae, while only a dragon could fly them out of the realm in time. Notus flew hard, with the maidens in his grasp, and while he flew, Loreena told Argenta about Notus. The spark of the firestorm lit Notus’ way and he reached the blacksmith’s cottage at daybreak, exhausted. Darius recognized his old friend immediately, even though fifteen years had passed, and guessed that one maiden was Argenta. He took the trio in, fed them and let them sleep.
“None of them realized that Maeve, on discovering their escape, flung a curse after them, dooming Argenta, Notus and Loreena to die immediately after achieving their greatest joy.”
Rania frowned at this cruel pronouncement. It seemed the Pyr had good reason to think that Maeve was unfair and unlikely to keep her word. She wondered whether they knew for certain that it was the Dark Queen’s curse, or if there was part of the story being omitted.
“Argenta was thrilled that the dragon who had rescued her was the man she’d come to love while still in her father’s home. Notus explained to her about the firestorm and the two pledged their troth to each other on the spring equinox, the day after their return from Fae. They wed beside the merry river as the last snow of the season fell around them.” The scene changed and Rania thought that something about the bend of the river looked familiar—but then rivers in forests tended to be similar. Once again, the snow seemed to follow Notus, but the pair who pledged to each other had rosy cheeks and wide smiles. The firestorm’s white light bathed all four of them in radiance and she saw Loreena wipe away a tear of joy.
“The pair satisfied the firestorm while Darian and Loreena went to market. The four of them lived happily in the cottage as Argenta’s belly rounded and once again, the smith made good coin from work forged under dragonfire.” Snow blew across the vision and swirled around the hut, which was cozy inside and lit by a roaring fire. “The wind was filled with the promise of winter when Argenta delivered her son, and Notus chose the name Hadrian for him. They were as much in love as ever and the arrival of their son made their happiness complete. The blacksmith wiped away a tear when he left them that night, then was surprised when the silversmith slipped her hand in his wizened one.” Rania smiled as Loreena led Darian to her bed, smiling sweetly at him. “That night, they two made love for the first time, and pledged to each other.”
Rania saw the pleasure that agreement gave both of them.
Alasdair frowned. “In the morning, though, Darian and Loreena found Argenta and Notus dead, struck down by Maeve’s curse in the moment of their greatest joy. The two were curled around their infant son, their bodies forming the shape of a heart, their hands clasped atop the baby.”
Rania gasped at the sight of the dragon shifter and his mate curved protectively around their infant son, who kicked his legs heartily despite his parents’ stillness. She bit her lip, realizing that Hadrian had been alone, without parents or siblings, just as she had been.
“Darian buried them in a clearing in the forest that was tranquil beyond all others, ensuring that they remained in the shape of a heart together, their hands entwined. He created a marker of steel forged in dragonfire, a heart that he had thought too fine to be a knocker. He realized then that he’d been unwittingly saving it for this use.”
Rania recognized the marker as the one she’d seen in the forest, and her heart thundered at the importance of that spot. It was a Pyr grave, but that of a Pyr with his mate. Hadrian’s parents. She swallowed. There had been a second marker, there, though, as well, and she had a feeling whose grave it might mark.
“Darian pledged to raise their son as his own and asked Loreena to be his bride. She agreed
and they were happy together, in their own way. They prospered and they never forgot the dragon and his mate, ensuring that the boy knew his heritage and legacy.”
The vision spun again, seasons passing with dizzying speed.
“It was twelve years later when Darian had a dream. He awakened with a smile but no memory of the dream’s details, save the word ‘Boreus’. He conferred with Loreena but neither could make sense of it. Hadrian was tall and lanky by this time, on the cusp of manhood, and though the smith had watched, he had never yet seen any sign that the boy had inherited his father’s nature. On that very day, a stranger approached the cabin. He looked somewhat like Notus, but older, and when he offered his hand, he introduced himself as Boreus, cousin of the boy’s father, come to teach Hadrian what he needed to know. The younger man with him was his own son, Alasdair.”
“You,” Balthasar said.
Alasdair smiled.
Once again, Rania watched a dragon being tutored by other dragons. Alasdair was hematite and silver, but much more slender and agile in this vision. His father was amethyst and silver, a doughty opponent who moved with deliberation. He was both precise and encouraging in his instruction and Rania watched Hadrian master his skills.
“Darian and Loreena then had the honor of watching a Pyr instruct one of his own. They were as thrilled as Hadrian when he mastered the art of shifting shape, when he learned to fly, when he breathed fire for the first time. The cousins worked together day after day, until Boreus had been a fortnight at the blacksmith’s home. He had come on the new moon, the first new moon of autumn, and by the full moon, he announced that he would return home. Hadrian chose to go with him, and though the blacksmith and his wife were saddened by this, for they loved the boy dearly, they knew it was right for him to be with his own kind.”
The vision showed that cabin and clearing, the night sky overhead filled with stars. A yellow moon rose, hovering over the trees like a great lantern, then three of the people in the clearing shimmered blue. They shifted shape, one becoming a larger dragon of amethyst and silver, one becoming a slim dragon of hematite and silver, and the third becoming a slender dragon of emerald and silver. The three dragons bounded into the air and took flight as one—and if the youngest was a little slower in making the transition, the delay was barely noticeable. They circled the cabin as the couple below waved farewell, then turned and flew into the night. The trio were silhouetted against the moon for a long moment, then flew on, as swiftly as the night wind.
“And each year, on that same new moon, Hadrian returned to his foster father and mother. He stayed that same fortnight with them, helping them, breathing fire for their forge, taking them on dragon flights, until the day he arrived to find only silence. He found them still abed, for they hadn’t awakened that morning, their bodies curled together and their hands entwined. Their posture was the same as that of his own parents, all those years before. What he didn’t know was that Loreena had been ill and Darian had finally told her that he loved her with all his heart. The confession had been her greatest joy and she had died, after hearing it, thanks to Maeve’s curse. Darian hadn’t been able to imagine his life without her, and he had passed in his sleep, holding his beloved close to his heart. Hadrian buried them beside his parents and fashioned a marker for their grave, using the skills Darian had taught him and his own dragonfire. He made a heart of steel and fire, not unlike the one that was already there.”
Rania recognized the second marker that she’d seen in the clearing. The vision changed quickly, the cottage becoming a mill and then the lair that she recognized as Hadrian’s home.
“And then Hadrian claimed that hut as his home and his lair, for his people had lived there since the dawn of time, and they would remain there ever after.”
A bright orb appeared in the middle of the vision. It became brighter and whiter until Rania had to close her eyes. When she opened them again, the vision had faded along with the light. Alasdair exhaled and the cloud of fog vanished, as if it had been dissipated in the wind.
There was a shimmer of blue light and Alasdair shifted shape, taking his human form once again. He appealed to Rania. “So, you see, my cousin has a legacy to defend, and the firestorm, once it sparks, has to be fulfilled. Take me instead. Fulfill your quota, free your brothers, and make a partnership with Hadrian.”
“But...”
“Give me the kiss of death, Rania,” Alasdair insisted as Balthasar looked on. “I volunteer to be the Pyr who dies. Just as our fathers defended each other’s firestorms, I would defend Hadrian’s.”
“You don’t understand,” she told him. “I can’t do that, not anymore.”
But before she could explain, Balthasar tilted his head, listening. “There’s no sound from the studio. Do you think Hadrian’s okay?”
Alasdair straightened with alarm. “Do you smell smoke?”
Nine
The door to Hadrian’s studio was locked. Smoke emerged from the gap under the door and Rania could hear the crackle of flames on the other side. Alasdair and Balthasar broke down the door by force, then kicked it into Hadrian’s studio.
They were greeted by a wall of flames. It was impossible to believe that anyone could survive such an inferno. Rania was amazed they hadn’t heard the fire start. She stepped forward, even as Alasdair held her back, then pointed at a fallen figure before the forge. “There!” Hadrian could just be discerned through the smoke.
Balthasar had already run to get the hose from the garden and he turned it on the fire, slowly creating a path toward the glowing forge. Alasdair and Rania were right behind him, even though Alasdair wanted her to wait behind. She felt responsible for Hadrian’s injury, whatever it was, and negligent for listening to a story instead of paying closer attention. Alasdair cleared away wood and burning debris, ensuring that they’d have a safe path back out of the studio. As they made their way closer, Rania saw that work tables had been tipped and smashed. How could they have missed the sound of this destruction? The Pyr had keen senses and she was observant. It made no sense, but she’d think about it later.
She saw the crucible in the forge, filled with molten metal, and turned to look for Hadrian’s blades. There was no sign of them.
Was this her fault? Had there been no sound because the Fae had come to interfere with Hadrian’s work, because of what she’d told Maeve? Or had they come for vengeance? She couldn’t see the Fae sword either.
They reached Hadrian just as the roof crackled overhead.
Balthasar shouted a warning and Alasdair shifted shape in a flash of pale blue light, taking his dragon form in a flash. He scooped up Hadrian’s inert form and grabbed Rania too, then jumped toward the breaking roof. He shattered the joists with his back and sent burning rafters tumbling back into the studio as he soared into the sky. Balthasar abandoned the hose and shifted shape, as well, his citrine and gold form appearing through the hole in the roof immediately after Alasdair.
Alasdair landed in the river with a splash, letting the water run over his back where the fire had singed his scales. Balthasar shifted shape before he landed and immediately went to Hadrian.
Rania feared that she knew what he would find. She’d already noticed that there wasn’t a glimmer of white light between herself and Hadrian. She could guess that the firestorm was extinguished because Hadrian was dead.
He also appeared to be frozen. He was in his human form, coated with a layer of ice. That also made no sense, given conditions in the studio. The Fae had definitely been at work. Hadrian’s skin was pale and his eyes were closed, his features strangely impassive.
Rania was surprised to feel a mix of helplessness and grief welling up inside her, and found tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t remember ever weeping over anything. She couldn’t remember ever mourning the loss of anyone, but she wanted to wail that Hadrian was dead.
She’d been assigned to kill him and now she mourned him. Was it just because she’d never be able to strike the final blow? Ran
ia knew that wasn’t it.
As Balthasar tried to revive his friend, she realized that she could never have taken the life of this dragon shifter.
But it had happened anyway.
She admired Hadrian too much. She didn’t want to think of a world without his crooked grin or his confident dares. She recalled Alasdair’s story, of the Pyr cousins and how they had helped each other, how they had won the hearts of their destined mates and fulfilled the promise of their respective firestorms, and Rania realized that she wanted to believe that she and Hadrian were meant for each other.
She wished she’d had the chance to be with him in every way, and she even wished she had conceived his son. She wasn’t sure how that could work out, not with Maeve hunting Others, but Hadrian’s death made her question her loyalty to the Dark Queen.
His death felt wrong.
It was wrong.
And Maeve had commanded it.
Worse, Rania had been at least partly responsible. She should never have told Maeve about the gloves. Was it worth serving the Dark Queen if it meant a noble shifter like Hadrian had to die?
Balthasar had shifted shape again and was breathing a slow stream of dragonfire, gradually thawing the ice from Hadrian’s body. Alasdair mimicked his actions, the two massive dragons bracing themselves against the running water of the stream. Their scales glistened and gleamed in the fading light of the day. Rania wondered whether Hadrian would melt away, but he didn’t—he thawed.
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