Veron curls his arms and wings around Alara, holding her close. Tenderly, he rests his open palm against her swollen abdomen. “I will return as soon as I can, my T’kara.”
A smile curls my lips. Halla told me that T’kara is the word for treasure in his language.
“I wish I could go with you, my dragon.” A tear escapes her lashes as she cups his cheek.
“I will miss you every single moment I am away,” he replies. He kneels and presses a tender kiss to her abdomen. “Both of you.”
Caelen slips his arms around me from behind and I melt against him. His breath is warm in my ear as he whispers. “It seems I am not the only Otherworldly being that has fallen under the enchantment of a human.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “Is that what you believe? That I’ve bewitched you somehow?” I tease.
He arches a brow. “If you have, it is a spell I willingly succumbed to.”
Playfully, I hit at his chest. He growls low under his breath, spinning me to face him and gathering me close as he captures my lips in a searing kiss, stealing the air from my lungs.
When he pulls back, I study him curiously. “Your mood is light. What has changed, my love?”
“I believe I know what the mirror was trying to show me,” he says. “The way out of the bargain that your mother made with the goblin.”
I frown. “What is it?”
“The sylven apple,” he explains. “I saw it in every version of the future the mirror showed me. It is a symbol of hope and life among my people. I always see it, along with the dragon. If we have one, we have the other, do we not? I believe it is the mirror’s way of showing me that you will live.”
A smile curves my mouth.
As we climb onto the dragon’s back, worry steals my breath. We haven’t even taken off yet, and I’m already afraid to look down. Caelen wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me back against the solid warmth of his chest. I twist my head back to face him. “Did I tell you I have a fear of heights?”
Tenderly, he combs the hair back from my face and brushes his lips against mine. “I will not let you fall, my Lyana.”
Veron turns his massive head toward us, as he addresses Caelen. “You are certain your people will not try to attack me?”
“Not if you ensure they can see me on your back,” Caelen replies.
He nods. “Done.”
Veron extends his massive wings out to the sides, catching the wind beneath the great sails and lifting into the air.
I look down, watching as the world falls away beneath us with dizzying speed. My stomach roils and I groan. Closing my eyes, I lean back against Caelen.
“Do not look down,” he whispers.
“Too late,” I reply, swallowing against the bile rising in my throat.
“The view is stunning from up here,” he says, his tone tinged with awe.
I open my eyes and stare out at the open sea and the cliff wall beside it. My fear and discomfort fall away as I gaze at the earth below us.
The sunlight casts sparkling, golden reflections across the ocean. Rolling waves crash against the shoreline. Several Mer swim beneath the clear, blue water, breaking through the surface and twisting in the air before diving back under. “It’s incredible.”
Veron dips his left wing to turn inland, heading toward what appears to be a solid mountain wall in the distance. I squint my eyes, studying it. It appears to be moving.
“What is that?” I ask Caelen.
“The Mists of Rivenyl,” he replies. “Magic disguised as fog to deter enemies from crossing our borders.”
“My brother spoke of this,” I murmur as the memory returns. “Arthur nearly got lost in it once. It was your brother, Dhurvaen, who saved him.”
Caelen chuckles softly in my ear. “Yes. Dhurvaen had captured him and was taking him back to our people to be imprisoned. Along the way, a Wraith attacked. Dhurvaen was injured and would have been slaughtered, but Arthur saved him.”
“And set in motion the treaty of nonaggression between our people,” I add.
Caelen nods, leaning against me. “Yes. I remember how tall and proud Arthur stood before my father when he demanded an end to the fighting between us.”
“You met my brother?”
“Yes. He was very brave.”
“I am glad he met you, my love.”
“So am I,” Caelen whispers.
Tears sting my eyes at the memory of Arthur, but I push down my sadness. I will have time to grieve later. Right now, I must focus on retaking my throne. It’s what my brother would have done, if he were the one still here instead of me.
As we cross through the fog, I study the ground below in wonder. A dense forest canopy of trees with gorgeous purple, heart-shaped leaves stretch as far as the eye can see. Several of them have long, thick vines that hang down, covered in bioluminescent white blossoms.
As the sun dips low on the horizon, glowing white and yellow lights flit between the boughs as pixies flutter and twirl, lending the entire forest an ethereal, otherworldly glow.
The castle stands proudly up ahead, carved into the side of a mountain. Tall, circular, white towers stretch toward the clouds, their golden rooftops reflecting the last of the sun’s rays like gleaming beacons.
Waterfalls cascade from the mountain above, spilling into collecting pools on each level of the palace before running through the gardens and into the city below. Each house and building is carved from the same white, pearlescent stone.
Cobblestones line the city walkways and paths. As night falls, several fairy lights begin to glow throughout the streets, the floating orbs appear as something straight out of a dream.
Everything is so beautiful; I don’t know where to look.
As we draw closer, panicked shouts fill the air. The Elves scatter as Veron flies toward them, but he dips his wing to one side so they can see their prince flying on his back.
Several stop and stare, dumbfounded for a moment, before Caelen waves.
Cheers rise through the crowd along with several shouts. “Prince Caelen has returned!”
Veron lands in the courtyard outside the castle entrance with an audible thump.
Caelen slides off Veron’s back and then reaches for me. He wraps his hands solidly around my waist and carefully sets me on the ground.
Several guards rush toward us, weapons at the ready. Caelen raises his hands. “Stand down,” he commands. “The dragon is an ally, not an enemy.”
They lower their weapons, staring in shock as Veron shifts into his two-legged form and walks up beside us. His green reptilian eyes narrow as he studies them warily.
“Where is my father?” Caelen asks the guards.
“The throne room, my Prince.”
As we start for the doors, two figures rush out of the castle, and I realize they must be Caelen’s father and sister.
His father is dressed in long, flowing green robes and a golden crown. He looks so much like Caelen, if not for the fine lines on his face, I’d mistake them as brothers.
Walking beside him must be Caelen’s sister—Nurala. Her golden hair is twisted in an elegant braid that hangs down her back.
They both halt abruptly as soon as they notice Veron behind us.
“Guards!” Caelen’s father cries out and the guards around us instantly snap to attention again, brandishing their weapons.
A deep growl rips from Veron’s throat as he flares his wings. Muscles ripple beneath his silver scales, as he readies to shift forms.
“Stop!” Caelen demands.
To his credit, the High Elf king’s face reveals nothing of his shock. I only notice it in his eyes because I’ve spent so much time with his son that I can recognize their inability to hide emotion in their gaze.
Caelen’s father studies Veron warily before turning to his son. “You brought a dragon to Rivenyl? What were you thinking?”
“He is not like other dragons,” I interject, and Veron huffs.
“He has a human mate that is expecting their first child,” Caelen adds.
King Kyvern’s jaw drops, but he quickly snaps it shut. His brow furrows deeply. “A dragon mated to a human?” he asks incredulously.
Veron’s nostrils flare.
“He brought us here,” I explain. “He wants to make peace with your people.”
“Peace?” King Kyvern asks. “Since when do dragons ever seek such a thing? They care only for blood, treasures, and gold.”
“As if the Elves are any better,” Veron snarls, baring his fangs.
Caelen steps between them. “We have much to discuss.”
The king levels an icy glare at Veron. “He is not to step inside this castle. He will be bound and—”
“Try to bind me and I will burn your kingdom to ash,” Veron growls.
“Veron,” I call out, drawing his attention to me.
He turns to me, his gaze hard. “Come with me, Queen Lyana. We are wasting our time here.”
Caelen’s family and the guards snap their eyes to me. “You have a dragon at your command?” the king asks. This time the shock is easy to read in his features.
“Veron is my ally, not my subject,” I correct.
Their expressions shift from fear and uncertainty to one of intense fascination as the king and the guards study Veron.
The High Elves are known for their stoicism. So, I’m surprised when Nurala rushes forward and throws her arms around Caelen. “First, we heard you were dead,” she sobs. “But then rumors began that you had kidnapped the princess.” She pulls back and her green eyes swim with tears. “I was so afraid we had lost you.”
“All lies,” he tells her as he returns her embrace. “I am here now. All is well.”
He takes my hand, drawing me to his side. “Lyana, this is my sister, Nurala and my father, King Kyvern.” He wraps a possessive arm around my waist. “And this is Lyana—my bride and my mate.”
Their eyes snap to the claiming mark on my neck that Caelen gave me, and my cheeks heat under the intense scrutiny of their gazes.
His father’s expression is an impassive mask as he looks to his son, but his eyes are bright with tears. He places a hand on Caelen’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to speak. “When we received news of what happened, I feared the worst. I am glad you have returned to us, my son.”
“I am glad to be home as well, Father.”
Behind the king, I notice a familiar face at the same time as Caelen. He calls out. “Ruvaen? I thought you were dead,” Caelen says. “How did—”
“I managed to escape the castle. I was wounded, but one of the villagers took pity on me. They treated my injuries, and gave me a horse to make my way here.”
Ruvaen steps forward and embraces Caelen warmly. “My boy, I am so glad to see you again.” He turns to me. “And you as well, Princess. I am sorry about your father.”
“Thank you.” Tears threaten to fall, but I push them back down. “I am glad to see that you are alive. You are very important to Caelen.”
His eyes dart to the mark on my neck and he flashes a warm smile. “It seems you are as well, Princess.”
“She is queen now,” Caelen interrupts. “The rightful heir to the throne of Eryadon, and we must gather our forces to help her retake it.” Caelen looks to his father. “Let us go inside. There is much to discuss.”
His father casts another wary look at Veron. “The dragon will remain here.”
“No,” I protest. “He will not. He is not your enemy, King Kyvern.”
Caelen’s father hesitates a moment before inclining his head. “Fine.”
