As I step into the sunlight, I look down at my ravaged clothes. I could mend them with ease, but I need my cleaver.
I consider turning back to the women, who are still deep in the cave, to ask if they know its location, despite knowing that they won’t be overly keen to see me again. Instead, something overhead draws my attention.
A flock of tropical birds flies away from the shore as quickly as possible, and a roar sounds in the distance. From the exit of the cave,which is elevated over the witches’ small town, I can see the glint of golden scales before the water.
Seraph.
I let out a long exhale, preparing myself for the fact that the last time I saw the creature, Arlet was tending to her. We were there together before my secrets were revealed, before Arlet made the decision to leave me forever.
The memories hurt to touch, like the worst of the wounds I received without a heart.
I make my way down the winding path that leads to the rocky edge of the beach. As soon as I pass the trees, Seraph looks up at me. Her golden scales shift in the light, creating rainbow prism rays that litter the ground.
Her deep amber eyes gaze in the direction Arlet went with the elves. My heart constricts. The woman she risked her life for.
I continue walking up to her until we are less than a wingspan apart. As she looks at me, I can see the question in her eyes that remains there, unfaltering. When I halt, and then neither she nor I move for a few minutes, I open my mouth, searching for the words.
A constricting pain in my chest comes again. It chokes its way across my heart, my lungs, and up to my throat.
Too many feelings.
I reach up, patting my bare chest where the fabric has long since been torn away by battle and procedure, and then feel something hot slide down the side of my cheek.
I clumsily wipe it away with my opposite hand, and look down to see a glistening tear.
Fuck.
All of the pain of the last half century had been felt halfway. It didn’t all come down on me before, but I am overwhelmed now with its lingering presence. I know the feelings are there, lurking. The loss of Adra, the loss of most of my people, my city, and almost my best friend. And now, the loss of the other half of my soul.
I stare at my hand as I gather the strength to say that which I could not before.
“She…is gone. We have to help her.”
The only way I will feel peace is if I bring her back. I need to leave now, and I need to be quick in my visit home.
I will not let Teo draw me into complex plans.
It would be better to make it a one-man show rather than bring armies to fight a new war so soon after the last. We have allies for the first time, but if Arlet is still there, in close proximity to the king, then there is only a greater chance that she will get hurt.
There is no way I will let anyone or anything hurt my…
The word “mate” freezes in my mind. I haven’t earned that title, with her or myself. Not yet.
I clear my throat. And if, after Arlet is rescued, Mrath still wants to storm Shvathemar, then I will lead the battles knowing that Arlet is safe and sound in a home that I will make for her, knowing the king is no longer a threat. In a place that will belong to the two of us. If she’ll have me back.
Until then…
I look up at Seraph.
“Are you ready?”
The dragon, who has been watching me break down, begins to move her tail, unfurling her long coil. Underneath lies my cleaver.
I stare down at it, thinking how I have lived my life clinging to its handle through both war and peace. It has always sung in my hand with purpose, but the purpose it brings me now feels more personal. It is mine—my burden. Not one laid on me by another’s danger. And I will carry it well until Arlet is home.
I will cut through flesh and burn down the entire palace just to get her back before real fighting can break out.
Seraph dips down, her saddle still attached to her back, and a churning in my stomach almost overpowers me. I don’t like being on her back without Arlet, don’t like flying where my feet can’t find purchase on solid ground.