by Lili Zander
“You remember when you told us about your vision?”
Her brows furrow. “Just the gist of it.”
“You were wondering if you were supposed to be a seed. Of course, Casius picked up on that. He took it, like he always does, to the logical next step.”
She looks confused. “Which is what?”
“What happens to a seed when a plant grows?”
Her expression clears. “Ah.”
“Indeed.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Then there was the time when your blood broke the barrier around the Bloodstone. It felt wrong, didn’t it?”
She gives me a sidelong look. “So you caught that.”
My lips twitch. “I might not be in Zyrian’s league, Aria, but I’m not entirely without weapons.”
She looks abashed. “I didn’t want to worry anyone,” she murmurs. “That’s why I didn’t mention it. But yeah, it felt like it was reaching for me, rushing into me, taking over. It was desperate to be free and was doing everything in its power to make that happen…”
“But the magic felt tainted,” I finish her sentence. “Because of what Zyrian did.”
The world desperately needs the magic stored inside the Bloodstone, but it’s cursed. If it breaks free… I shudder away from that thought. Zyrian is powerful enough already. In his hands, the Bloodstone won’t be hope for a better future. It’ll become a weapon, one that will annihilate us all.
She bites her lower lip. “Yesterday, you said the magic needs to be purified through me. How?”
I give her an amused smile. “And that brings us to today’s lesson. Understanding the nature of magic. Welcome to Magic Theory 101.”
She leans forward, a smile curling at her lips. “Okay. I’ll bite, Professor Valentini. Tell me about magic.”
When she calls me Professor with a gleam in her eyes, the last thing I want to do is talk about magic theory. But this is important. “You’ve reached for my magic before,” I tell her. “Why isn’t it tainted?”
She sits up, her eyes wide. “I don’t know,” she says. “Why isn’t it? You were born after the curse.”
“It is tainted,” I respond.
“But that doesn’t make any sense.” She frowns at me. “I’ve used your magic. The stuff inside the Bloodstone felt sinister. It was very different.”
“Let me see if I can explain it.” What is it they say? The only way to find out if you truly know something is to try to teach it to someone else? The truth is, theory isn’t my strong suit. I’m much better doing. “Magic should be effortless. Like jogging on a treadmill.”
She gives me a wry look. “Mateo, I assure you, jogging on a treadmill isn’t effortless. Maybe for dragons, but certainly not for Norms.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough. Stay with me. Using magic should feel like jogging on a treadmill, not running a marathon. I’ve read enough ancient texts. Poured over Maija Essen’s old journals. Read Leopold Kaiser’s accounts of magic. Every single one of those mages seemed to be able to harness more power than I can. Let’s take the Silver Mage, for example. She was powerful enough to preserve her memory in a bubble for five hundred years so that she could talk to you across time. And what can I do? A bit of healing here and there. Parlor tricks compared to the power of the ancients.” I grimace as I admit the truth. “For a while, it gave me quite the complex.”
“But then you realized it’s the curse,” she guesses astutely.
“Exactly. Because of Zyrian’s curse, every time I do magic, part of my energy goes to purifying it. That’s why I can’t do anything as powerful as that of the ancients.”
She looks unconvinced. “I’ve used your magic so many times,” she says. “I’ve never seen a taint.”
“It’s there, tesoro. I assure you.”
I get to my feet and walk to a cabinet in the corner. Aria watches me curiously. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a demo.” I pull out two clear quartz crystals from a shelf and make my way back to her. “Clear quartz is an amplifier,” I explain. “You’ll be able to see what I’m talking about.” I reach for one of my strands of magic and feed it into the crystal.
Aria leans forward, her attention entirely on the clear rock in front of her. As she stares at it, it slowly changes color, turning golden. It stays translucent for almost a minute before turning grey and cloudy. “That’s it?” she asks skeptically.
I point to the other crystal. “You try it.”
“Okay.” Her eyes go unfocused, and she pours a stream of pure energy into the crystal in front of her. It turns blood red. “What now?”
“Patience, little thief. Watch.”
Seconds tick by. “Nothing’s happening, Mateo,” Aria complains after a couple of minutes. “I’m growing old watching…” Her voice trails off and understanding flashes in her eyes. “Ah. My crystal stayed clear.”
“That’s my girl.”
She wrinkles her nose. “How come I’ve never noticed it before?”
“You didn’t have enough skill to see it. Now you do.”
“Why is that not reassuring?” she says under her breath. She winks at me. “Okay, Professor. After that long detour, let’s get back to my original question. Tell me how to purify magic.”
“Are you questioning my teaching methods?” I trail my fingertip over her lush, lower lip, and her breath catches. “You know what happens to students who do that.”
She raises her eyes and meets my gaze squarely. “Stop distracting me.”
My mouth curves into a reluctant smile. She’s sharp, and she does not miss a trick.
“Watch.” I extend my fingers to talons and slice open my skin. The red droplets rain down on the dull grey stone. Golden strands weave around it, and a couple of seconds later, the crystal is clear once again.
“But you’re not bleeding every time you do magic,” she points out.
“I’m a dragon. Blood, energy, magic, they’re all the same thing.”
“Okay,” she concedes. “But because I’m Norm, I have to bleed on it?”
“You’re more than Norm.” I push another strand of tainted magic into the crystal. “Now you try.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folding knife. I grab it from her before she cuts herself. “Are you nuts?” I demand, plucking a sharp-tipped needle out of thin air and giving it to her. “You just need a drop.”
She laughs. “I love it,” she says in delight. “You should see your face. You’re green, you know? It’s hilarious. Bastian is freaked out by germs, and you’re scared of blood.”
“Depends on whose blood it is.”
Her expression softens. She stabs her fingertip with the needle and holds it over the cloudy crystal. One drop falls on it, and instantly, the crystal becomes clear once again. “That was faster,” she says, her eyes wide. “A lot faster.”
“Untainted magic.”
“Holy shit, Mateo.” She looks overwhelmed for an instant and then pulls herself together. “So to purify the magic in the Bloodstone, I need to bleed on it.”
“That’s the theory,” I reply. “There’s one tiny flaw. There’s more magic than blood.”
“That sucks ass.” I can see her mind working. She’s breaking down the problem, searching for a solution. “Can we pull the magic out a little at a time? Kinda a controlled release?”
“What do you think? Can you control the magic inside the stone?”
She shakes her head ruefully. “No,” she admits. “I’ll get overwhelmed. It was just too powerful. I won’t be able to control it. It’ll break free.” She sighs heavily and fingers the gemstone at her throat. “You know what’s weird? The Bloodstone itself feels friendly, not evil.”
“I don’t understand that either,” I confess. “Another mystery to add to the list.”
Her gaze returns to my face. “What are we going to do about the curse, Mateo?” she asks directly.
I pick up the alchemy textbook. “I’m looking for a way to amplify the effects of your blo
od,” I reply. “I took a sample of it when you bled on the gemstone.”
“You did?” she cuts in. “I didn’t notice.”
“You weren’t supposed to, tesoro.” I brush my lips against hers. “I didn’t want to alarm anyone. Not until I had a solution.”
She kisses me back. “You should involve us,” she chides gently. “We could help you.”
“You’re right. You’re not the only one that struggles with admitting you need help.”
Her lips tilt up. “Touché. So you’re trying to duplicate my blood?”
“With no success,” I reply. “But I’m going to keep trying. Casius knows more about alchemy than I do. Now that everything’s out in the open, he’ll help, as will the others. Bastian and Rhys have friends in the magical community. We will figure it out.”
Her eyes drop to her lap. “How can you be sure there’s an answer that doesn’t involve my death?”
I put my finger on her chin and tilt her face up. “Here’s the truth. Nobody knows what lay in the Silver Mage’s heart.”
“Very reassuring,” she quips.
“But,” I continue, “After all this time, Bastian has finally found his mate. I cannot believe that Bastian’s mother would engineer a future that involves him losing you. I cannot believe that she would condemn him to such a fate.”
She stays silent for a long time. Finally, she forces a cheerful smile on her face. “Let me see if I’ve got the plan straight. Step 1. We figure out how to amplify my blood. Step 2: We safely free and purify the magic in the Bloodstone.”
I nod grimly. “Step 3: We storm Zyrian’s castle. The Dark Dragon has lived long enough. It’s time for him to die.”
3
Aria
After all this time, Bastian has finally found his mate. I cannot believe that Bastian’s mother would engineer a future that involves him losing you. I cannot believe that she would condemn him to such a fate.
I’d kept silent when Mateo had said those words to me.
I hope he’s right. I really do. But he wasn’t in the vision with me. He hadn’t seen the tears roll down Maija Essen’s face. He hadn’t seen her air of hopeless despair.
Sometimes, seeing the future means you have to make hard choices. Brutally hard choices.
I make my way to Erik’s bedroom. He’s still not conscious. Mateo has assured me that Erik’s on the mend, but I just wish he’d open his eyes. I could use Erik’s particular brand of tough love right now. Enough, princess, he’d probably say to me. Stop pouting.
And then he’d kick my ass at pool.
I perch on the bed next to him. His breathing is steady, and his chest rises and falls gently. Around his body is a spider-web of protective and healing magic. Mateo’s taking no chances.
“Hey,” I whisper. It’s so weird how important the dragons have become to me, each one in a different way, but nothing is weirder than my relationship with Erik.
At the start, I’d been convinced he hated me, but then he’d paid Silas’ medical bills. I’d found him baffling and infuriating, and then I’d come to understand why he held himself apart. To lose your mate… your unborn child… I can’t even imagine what an abyss of loss that must have been.
I’d told him I wanted to be friends. Over the last month, Erik and I have established our boundaries. We don’t flirt. We don’t fool around. I thought it was enough. A real-life counter-balance to all the fairy-tale sexy-times I’m getting from the other four.
It’s not enough. I want more.
“You stupid lug,” I mutter under my breath. “I told you that I had a bad feeling about your stupid meeting. Did you listen? No, of course not.” I brush my thumb over his cheek, and his stubble rasps my skin. “You had to go charging in, thinking nothing could happen to the big, bad dragon.”
I blink back the tears in my eyes. Don’t be ridiculous, Aria. Mateo told you he was going to be okay. What on Earth are you crying about?
I’ve cycled through more foster homes than I can remember. Every single time, it didn’t work out. Once, because I was allergic to the dog, and the family chose their pet over me. Another time, because the couple was only in it for the money. Then there was the boyfriend who kept accidentally walking in on me in the bathroom.
“You could have been killed.” There’s a lump in my throat. “I can’t lose any of you.”
I thought my heart was hardened to loss. I thought there were only two people I cared about in the world. Silas and Bea. I was wrong. So very wrong.
“I’ve been practicing,” I tell the unconscious dragon. “I won a game of pool against Bastian a couple of days ago. You better wake up soon. Because the moment you’re awake, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Or kiss you senseless. One or the other.
Can he hear me? I don’t know. Just to be on the safe side, I don’t say that last bit out loud. It’s too embarrassing.
4
Bastian
I run into Aria outside Erik’s room.
For the first time in a long time, I have absolutely no idea what to say to her. I spent all night tossing and turning, guilt sloshing through my veins.
This is my family’s fault. All of it. My mother rejected Zyrian and chose my father, setting in motion the sequence of events that led to the dark curse. And now, it appears that she not only foresaw the future and pulled Aria into our struggle, but she did so knowing that Aria could die.
My mother did this.
A surge of anger pulses through me. She’d told Halla Northridottir to choose freely. As if that was enough. As if Halla had any right condemning Aria—my Aria—to this path. Condemning her to death.
My mate’s eyes are red-rimmed. She looks like she’s been crying. This is all my fault. I pulled her into this as well. I’ve had so many opportunities to send her away to safety, but I’ve been greedy and selfish. I’ve enjoyed her dry wit, her cheerful spirit, and her surprisingly filthy mind.
This should be our battle, not hers. Except it’s too late to do anything about it.
“Sorry about yesterday,” she says. “I shouldn’t have pitched a hissy fit.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” She’d been frustrated for all of ten minutes. Then Mateo had dropped his little bombshell and she’d gone far too silent. “You’re entitled to yell, you know. You shouldn’t apologize for what’s a perfectly normal reaction.”
She shrugs. “Yelling doesn’t achieve anything.”
Her voice is flat, colorless. The curse is weighing on her mind, how could it not? The last week has been tense as we’ve waited at Erik’s bedside, willing him to pull through. Mateo has sent the spear to Italy, where his assistants are in the process of analyzing it.
Dragons are almost impossible to hurt. Yet that spear had almost killed him. And then there was Mateo’s drunken incident, the one that had prevented him from shifting. That knife is in Mateo’s laboratory too, and I’m willing to bet that the two attacks are linked.
We’re all under an enormous amount of stress. What Aria needs is a good distraction, and I think I have the perfect idea.
I give her a sidelong look. “Can you drive?”
“Of course.” Her lips curl into a smile. “Silas borrowed Uncle Pete’s car and taught me when I was sixteen.”
“What about a standard?”
She raises an eyebrow. “What’s with all the questions, Bastian?”
I wait for her to answer, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Yes, Bastian. I can handle a stick.” Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “As you should know by now.”
I choke back my snort of laughter. She’s got a dirty mind, and I love her for it. “Come with me. We’re going to do something we should have done a long time ago.”
She tilts her head to one side. “Are you going to buy me something?” she asks, her voice coated with suspicion.
My lips twitch. “Nope.”
“Or give me something?”
“What’s with all the questions, Aria?” I tease. “Have
a little faith, mausezähnchen. You’re going to like this.”
I lead the way outside and we make our way down an overgrown path toward the garage. “I like New York,” I tell her conversationally. “In fact, there’s only one thing I miss there.”
“And that is?”
I throw open the door, and she steps into a gleaming, state-of-the-art, temperature-controlled garage. Ten beautiful, classic cars shine under the spotlights. Seven Porsches, one 1956 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL, and a couple of Italian models—a 1964 Ferrari 250 GTO and a 1971 Lamborghini Miura SV—round out the collection, though I maintain that the Germans make far better vehicles. “My cars.”
Her mouth falls open. “Seriously? You have a hangar filled with cars?”
“Dragons like treasure, little thief. Which one do you want to take out for a spin?”
“You’re joking.”
“I told you. Whatever’s mine is yours. But if you pick the Ferrari, try not to crash it. They only made three of the 250 GTO that year.”
“No pressure.” She shakes her head wryly. “Pick for me. Something replaceable, please.”
“I know just the thing.” I make my way to the end of the garage and gesture to a gleaming silver car. “Last year’s Porsche 911 GT2 RS,” I tell her. “Seven hundred horses, two-point-eight second zero-to-hundred acceleration, and I won’t care if you wreck it.”
“Why is it here?” she asks curiously. “You haven’t been to Castle Jaeger in twenty years.”
I wince. “I was going to ship it to the States,” I reply. “But I got busy.”
“Of course you did. You one-percenters. Alright, Bastian. Strap in and hold tight. I’m going to take you for one hell of a ride.”
