by Selena Scott
Isla felt someone sit next to her and she barely had the energy to look and see who it was.
“Have faith in my boy,” Felice said. And had Isla’s head snapping around.
Isla’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll try. But it’s hard for me to have faith in anybody.” She rested her forehead on Felice’s shoulder. “I just love him so much.”
“I know that, sweetheart,” Felice said as her arm came around Isla’s shoulder. “And so does he, if he has any sense. Not to insult you, but you don’t play your feelings very close to the chest, Isla. Your love for him is written all over your face.”
Isla laughed a watery laugh that was filled with the pain of the situation. “Then why did he leave?”
Felice shrugged. “Only he can tell us that. When he comes back. And trust me. He’s coming back. I know my boy. I raised him from an egg. You heard me. Dragon shifter hatchlings are born in an egg. And they hatch.”
Isla’s eyes went wide. “Wow.”
“You’re telling me. But listen to me, sweetheart. That boy is not an abandoner. He stayed with me in Chestershire for damn near 20 years longer than he wanted to.”
Isla nodded. She knew Felice was right. Part of what had been so alarming about it was that it hadn’t seemed like something he would do in the least. She supposed that all she could do was wait at this point. For him to come home and clear everything up.
Shouts from the edge of the Surgere camp had Isla’s head popping up and Solar running out onto the porch. Those weren’t happy shouts. They were filled with alarm. Panic.
“Oh, Jesus,” Solar said, squinting into the distance to where the Surgere were pointing.
Isla saw a black cloud on the edge of the horizon. “Bad weather?” she asked. That would be bad news.
“No,” Amos answered, coming out and standing beside Solar. “An enemy army.”
“Holy god!” Isla exclaimed. “That black cloud is a cloud of dragons?”
But there was no one there to answer her. They’d all rushed off to their separate corners to prepare. Solar was rallying the Surgere, calling them into ranks and shouting orders. Amos ran inside to get Lucy. Their plan was to have Lucy stay with all the kids in the cellar of the house. Felice ran for Donovan.
Isla stood. And then sat. And then stood. She watched as person after person shifted into dragon. She watched Zara zip around the camp, talking to the younger Surgere, assuring them that they would be okay.
Isla jumped when she realized that Mel was standing next to her. Holding a knife the length of a man’s arm.
“Are you fighting?” Isla asked her, totally amazed.
“I don’t know how much good I would be at fighting an army,” Mel replied. “But I can tell you this. If I get the chance, I’m cutting Dalyer’s fucking wing off. For O.”
Wow. That was badass as fuck. Isla turned on her heel to go into the kitchen to find something to fight with. She found two kitchen knives. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use them, but she wasn’t opposed to it.
She ran into Zara in the doorway of the porch. “Isla,” Zara said. “You’re not gonna need those. I’m gonna protect you. And the children. I’m sticking close to the house.”
“You’re not gonna try and get a piece of Dalyer?” Isla asked.
“It’s more important to me that you and Lucy and Mel and the children are safe.”
Isla nodded. “I won’t do anything stupid. I just want to be prepared.” Especially now that Idris wasn’t here. But she didn’t add the last part out loud. She felt like it was already being said. Just from his absence.
When Isla went back out onto the porch, what she saw completely dismayed her. The black cloud of the enemy was much closer than it was before. And the Surgere were not organized. They looked nervous and unsure. Some were listening to Solar but others weren’t. Obviously the absence of Idris was hitting them hard.
This wasn’t good.
A little thought wormed its way into her head and Isla took off to their room on the third floor, taking extra care now that she was carrying two butcher knives in her hands.
She stood at the window of her room, looking out at the teeming camp. She took a deep breath, blew it out of her mouth. This was part of having faith in him, she reminded herself.
She opened the window and stepped out on the roof that overlooked the camp. There had to be three or four hundred Surgere soldiers out there. Her stomach flipped into a million pieces. The funny thing was, if she’d been dancing for them, this wouldn’t have scared her at all. But it turned out that speaking was a lot scarier than stripping.
Isla took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “Surgere!” she shouted, her voice carrying over the camp. Everyone there knew that she and Idris were together. A unit. She only hoped that some of the faith they’d had in Idris had transferred to her as well.
The crowds turned to look at her, falling into silence as she held up a hand. “Dalyer’s army is coming!” She was going off the cuff here, but they all needed a little inspiration. “Make no mistake, he waited for the moment when Idris wasn’t here. Because he fears Idris. But listen to me. This was a massive mistake on his part. Because he doesn’t fear us,” she yelled as she slapped a hand on her chest. “And he should fear us to his bones. Because there aren’t any prophecies about us. We’re not destined for this. We’re here because we choose to be here. We’re here to fight! There’s nothing chaining us but our own understanding of what it means to fight for freedom! And that makes us dangerous! Unpredictable! Ferocious!”
The Surgere were dead silent because, she hoped, they were hanging on her every word. But it was hard to tell from up here. All she knew was that she needed to get them unified. Revved up. Because there was no way she’d survived her shitstorm of a life just to die as collateral damage in a dragon fight.
“It was easier to believe when Idris was here, I know. But a king is just a symbol. He only has as much power as you give him.” She gestured with her knives. “He represents our freedom. Our independence from Dalyer. He represents fighting for what we believe in!” She raised her knife to the sky and looked out at the crowd.
The cheers were deafening. Isla looked down at Solar and he nodded up at her. “Alright!” his voice rang out. “This is how we’re going to organize.”
He took over, shouting out directions to each of his battalions. Isla wasn’t sure how much she’d changed things, but she could tell that the energy in the camp was different than it had been. It was filled with anticipation now, not with dread.
She was about to climb back into the window of the room when something caught her eye in the sky. Something that glinted blood red in the sunset. She knew that Dalyer’s dragon was red. And her heart plummeted into her stomach. She took one stumbling step back. And then another. But she realized that it wasn’t just red. It was blue and purple and a gorgeous refraction of every color.
Her breath caught in her throat. It was Idris. Launching toward the roof of the building. Cheers from the Surgere camp rose as other members saw him too. He made a breathtaking shift only twenty feet from the roof. He landed, naked as the day he was born, right next to her.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded of her. Then he looked down at the knives in her hands. “With those?”
Isla didn’t answer him. Couldn’t with all those people staring at them. She turned and ducked back inside their room. He followed immediately.
“I was giving a speech to your people!” she shouted at him. “Because they’d all thought that you abandoned them and morale was low!”
He winced at her words and tears streamed down her face.
“Where the hell did you go, Idris? Without telling me or saying goodbye or explaining?”
Carefully, he slid the knives out of her hands and set them aside. He turned back to her.
“I guess I could sugarcoat it. But I won’t. There’s no time.” He glanced out the window at the ever-advancing army. He took a step toward her, c
lasping her hands. “I went back to the human realm.”
“Why?”
“To kill Ivan Ivanovich.”
“What?” Isla felt like she’d just swallowed an ice cube only to realize that it was glass.
“You heard me.” Idris’s eyes were cold steel.
“He’s dead?” Isla asked. “Ivan is dead?”
***
Idris nodded, helped her sit back on the bed. He watched her like a hawk as her dazed eyes bounced back and forth, trying to make sense of what he’d just said.
Isla dropped her head into her hands and Idris’s stomach plummeted. He may have badly miscalculated here. He needed to keep explaining, fast.
“Isla,” he started, but cut off completely when she threw her hands down and he caught sight of the effervescent look on her face.
“He’s dead!” she pumped one fist in the air. “I know I’ll probably go to hell for celebrating this, but I don’t care! He was the worst person alive and now I never have to worry about him again. About him finding me or doing that same shit to anyone else!”
“Isla,” Idris said slowly, knowing he was about to cut out his own heart and hand it to her on a platter. “The human realm is safe for you. You can go back if you want.”
Her eyes instantly clouded and she stood up, her arms crossed over her chest. “You want me to go back,” she said flatly.
“What? No. I’d rather jam nails in my eyes than have you go back but-”
“Then why the hell are you bringing it up?” She threw her hands in the air.
Idris dragged a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t want to be your second choice. Your ‘well, he’s better than Ivan’ choice. I wanted you to want to be here. Not stay here because you were scared to go back to the human realm.”
Isla tossed her hands up even higher in the air. “This is why you should always let me talk!” she yelled. “If you had let me talk last night, then I would have told you that I’m crazy-fucked in love with you, too. And that nothing, not a trillion dollars and a record deal with Beyoncé as my backup singer could get me to go back to the human realm. I would stay with you in the dragon realm if Ivan was alive and HERE. I will always choose to be wherever the hell you are. OKAY? And I want to die right next to you some day. And I’m never going anywhere. Even if it means I have to be your mistress-”
He cut her off with a kiss that blew both of their socks off. “You love me. You choose me.”
“Yes, you big idiot.”
He kissed her again. Broke it off only to look at her in confusion. “What do you mean, be my mistress?”
“Well, I was thinking that nobody would want a stripper queen. But, I gotta say. That speech I just gave went over mighty well.”
Idris grinned at her. Kissed her again.
“IDRIS!” Solar’s voice sounded from outside on the lawn. It was time. The enemy was so close that Isla could hear their wings flapping outside.
“I’m going to love you forever, Isla Angotti,” Idris said, kissing her one more time. And then he was out the window and flinging himself off the roof, shifting on the fly. He looked back just long enough to see that Isla had left the bedroom. Good. He didn’t want her up there during the battle. He needed her to be safe.
She chose him. With her heart. The thought propelled him into the air. A fire in his heart.
The line of Dalyer’s soldiers was approaching, almost on them. The line was dark; he knew that most dragons were dark blue, like Solar. It was the most common color. He could only hope that not too many of Dalyer’s army would have to be killed in the pursuit of Dalyer. Idris knew they were mostly slaves.
An idea hit him like a bolt of lightning.
“That’s a great idea,” O said from behind him, panting and flapping like crazy to stay in the air.
Idris would never forget the fact that his brother had come to the human realm to find him. Twice now. He’d never forget that his brother had helped him hunt down Ivan. Dispose of the little twit. That the two of them had walked side by side back to the portal, and then flown together, side by side, back to the battleground.
“You think so?” Idris asked O and O nodded.
“I can’t say more, or I risk fucking up the outcome. But yes, good idea.”
Idris flew high. Even higher than the rest of the soldiers. “Dragons!” he bellowed, loud enough for the first wave of Dalyer’s soldiers to hear him. “Dalyer is not your king! I, Idris Prodigo, am the true king and heir to the throne. I will not enslave you! I will not murder your people or burn your villages. I value independence, freedom, and justice above all else! I am here, from the human realm, my first home, to free you from the disease called Dalyer. I will fight alongside you to take him down. Do not fight for him. For Dalyer the torturer. I’m not asking you to fight for me. But I am asking you not to fight my men.”
His words had an interesting effect. They fortified his own soldiers. And weakened the resolve of the approaching army. Idris watched in satisfaction as many of the closest dragons looked at one another in confusion and doubt. He watched a great many of those dragons lose altitude and turn back in the direction they came. And he watched in amazement as a handful of them turned on the dragon beside them, swiping them from the air.
The effect was that Dalyer’s army, once a solid block of enemy, was filled with holes and wavering as they approached the Surgere. And the Surgere were strong, surging, and unified. They attacked as a unit, smashing through the line of enemies like a dam bursting.
The noise was incredible. The air itself was a single, monumental roar. It sounded to Idris like one continuous car accident as the crash of scales echoed out. The battle cries of dragons, fearsome and wounded, sounded out. Idris watched as Solar’s tail took down three enemies all at once, their wounded bodies flapping toward the ground.
“Idris!” Amos’s voice rang out and it was all the warning he got before something like a Mack truck hit him in the side. Idris rolled in the air, quickly regaining his balance, realizing that the battle with Dalyer had begun.
Dalyer had not come unarmed, Idris realized. A group of ten bodyguards circled him in the air. But Idris hadn’t come unarmed either.
Amos rocketed through the air, tearing into the ranks of the bodyguards like they were tissue paper. A great battle ensued, their teeth tearing into one another, tails whipping.
Idris was moving forward to help his friend when O came over his flank, diving in and swatting the extra men off of Amos. And next was Donovan, fighting as hard and as viciously as his son. Idris knew the three of them could handle a group that size, so he turned his attention back to Dalyer.
Who was… really fucking gross, Idris realized. He had raw scars covering half of him. His dragon eyes were bloodshot, almost the same color as his scales. He kept himself in the air with the same frantic strokes of his wings as a rabid bat might.
There was no more time for considering his enemy though, as Dalyer took that moment to charge again. Idris easily rolled to the side, dodging the blow and scratching Dalyer on the underbelly as he went.
That was not a move he would have been able to execute yesterday. Idris was energized, renewed, newly hatched by Isla’s love. He had something to fight for. He understood what life meant. How important the idea of the future was to the heart of a man. To the heart of a dragon.
He fought like a seasoned soldier. With control and vigor and absolute confidence. Dalyer came at him. Again and again. Like a bat out of hell. He was like the Energizer bunny. For an old guy, he just never stopped coming at Idris.
Idris could see the battle raging on around him. He knew that every second that the fight went on, more lives were going to be lost. The two armies were fighting right now because they were split between two kings. He needed to gain control. Put an end to this.
The thought had him swinging his tail around. He caught Dalyer by the side of the head. Knocked him clean out of the air.
Idris dove, followed him down. Dalyer caught h
imself in the fall just seconds before he hit the ground and he did so with more grace than Idris would have thought possible.
Dalyer spread his wings, obviously attempting to take flight again. Idris could tell he preferred aerial battle. He prepared himself to clash in the air. Dalyer’s wings gave one great flap, but he never left the ground.
Dalyer gave a great, agonizing wail as a shiny bright machete chopped clean through his left wing. The detached appendage fell to the ground with a sickening plop. Mel stood over it, bloody sword in hand, breathing like a warrior goddess and baring her teeth. She stared Dalyer in his crazed eyes. “That was for O, you bastard.”
Dalyer took a lumbering step toward Mel, his teeth gnashing, obviously about to gut her like a fish.
Idris tucked into an even tighter dive. He had to get there before Dalyer hurt Mel. But he shouldn’t have worried. Because Zara was there first. She plummeted out of the air in her gorgeous gray dragon form. She landed directly on Dalyer’s head, pinning him to the ground like a tremendous lizard.
She looked him in the eyes. “Burn in hell, Dalyer.”
And then Idris was landing next to him. Either the noise of the battlefield was fading out because of the blood rushing in Idris’s ears, or fights were dying down in the efforts to see what was happening between the kings.
Dalyer screamed out his rage and crazed fury, trying desperately to twist away from Zara. His roars were some of the only sounds that Idris could hear.
In that moment, Idris was all dragon. There was no man left inside him. His destiny burned in his heart like the center of the sun. Its twin radiated out from him as well. His other heart. The one that belonged to Isla. His queen.
He could feel her eyes on him from somewhere in the house. He was doing this for her. He took a step toward Dalyer. Because people deserved to be free from dickheads like Dalyer. Like Ivan. Because oppression was oppression, no matter how big or small.
Idris knew it in his bones. His chest. That he would fight against this forever. Until the end of his days. And the end of his days was not today.
