Still, rather than attempting to dive out of the way, Phoenix looked skyward for the first time since sending her dragon away. She hadn’t dared risk her carefully mustered confidence by glancing up and failing to see the support she had to believe was present. Because even if Mason wasn’t there to save her, quenching her father’s flame was the right thing to do for the sake of the Aerie and of the world at large.
Whether or not she went down with the ship was a matter she was willing to leave up to fate.
But of course her Lord Dragon was waiting. Mason’s tail looped around willing waist and jerked her out of reach just as the flash of purple immolated a wooden railing near where she’d so recently stood. And as her mother had once promised, Phoenix rose from the ashes unscathed.
Chapter 16
“Do you regret it?”
Phoenix’s heart had initially leapt at the sound of feet on the stairs, but the female voice wasn’t the one she’d been waiting and hoping to hear. Still, Sarah’s presence was welcome since Mason was busy delivering a sodden but surviving ex-fire mage to the distant reaches of the western wasteland. She didn’t expect her dragon back for hours yet, so talking to his mother seemed like a fine way to fill the time.
“Do I regret quenching my father’s flames for good? Or do I regret asking Mason to fish him out of the reservoir before he died?”
“Either? Both?” The older woman smiled, but she merely raised eyebrows rather than advancing further into Mason’s private domain.
And even though it felt strange to play hostess in someone else’s space, Phoenix plugged in the electric kettle she’d discovered an hour earlier and offered Mason’s mother a choice of precious teas while waving her inside.
“Maybe a little,” the younger woman admitted, once they’d both settled onto a soft sofa facing west across the broad valley. Off in the distance, she could just barely pick out the dark patch where charred earth soaked up sunlight and melted pockmarks into the otherwise solid expanse of white. “Still, it was the only real choice,” she added after a moment. “He’s my father, but he’s a plague on the face of the earth.”
“And you’re the only powerful fire mage left? Or at least the only one that you know of?”
It seemed like an odd question to ask now, after the woman had spent all day setting up yesterday’s invaders with beds and food to calm their aching bones and growling bellies. Most of Malachi’s underlings were able to call hints of flame to their fingertips, but the mages’ powers were weak enough that Zane and the twins hadn’t batted an eyelash when asked to ferry wives and children from Phoenix’s former home into the towers that made up the Aerie. Meanwhile, no one had questioned the sparks of fire that flitted around Phoenix’s head every time she thought about the absent Lord Dragon and their toe-curling kiss.
Given that surprising hospitality, Phoenix had assumed the antagonism between fire mages and dragons ran in only one direction. Now, though, the wiry old woman leaned forward with a stiffness to her form suggesting that Phoenix’s reply was far more important than the latter could possibly understand or even guess.
So the mage answered honestly. “I’ve never met a significant fire mage other than my father,” she said, and was surprised when Sarah’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. “Why, were you hoping for more trouble to show up on your doorstep tomorrow?”
Which is when Mason’s mother explained why the Lord Dragon’s neck had grown so cold as they flew west away from the Aerie. Why he had almost failed to return in time to save Phoenix from her own trap.
“The Fade,” Phoenix murmured, a chill running up and down her spine. The notion that Mason’s inner fire might wink out at any moment was almost more than she could bear, and she appreciated the older woman’s support when Sarah pulled her into an awkward but heartfelt embrace.
“Not that I think Mason has much to worry about now that you’re here,” his mother said with forced brightness. “But Zane could be next...”
“We’ll find a solution. I’ll do everything in my power to protect your sons. I promise.”
And then Sarah’s face lit up with true happiness as her eyes darted toward the window in front of them. A dragon hovered there, all indigo scales and flickering fire. Mason tapped a lever on the side of the building with flame-tipped talons and a massive glass door slid open to invite in a treacherous gust of wind.
“Hang onto the sofa!” Sarah ordered.
But Phoenix was instead rising and running, falling at last into her dragon’s waiting arms the instant he changed from beast to man. She hadn’t been granted a chance to exchange more than a handful of words with the shifter before he left to carry Malachi away from her new home. In fact, if she added it all up, she probably hadn’t spoken more than a couple dozen words to Mason in her entire life.
Regardless, Phoenix’s fire flared so brightly as his lips brushed across hers that she smelled the sizzle of charring fibers. Glancing down, she was mortified to catch sight of twin holes in the carpet at her feet. “Oops.”
Mason’s eyes only crinkled up at the corners, though, as he lifted her off the smoldering floor to spirit her away from the open wall. Only after pressing the matching lever on the interior that closed the space up tight did he finally relinquish his protective grasp.
The air must have dropped twenty degrees while the door was open, but Phoenix’s fire turned her cheeks red and her breath short anyway. Flames twirled around her body, begging to meld with Mason’s fire and never let him go.
But, instead, Phoenix took one small step backward and dug into her pocket for the ring reclaimed from an aged ferry master after the morning’s drama had died down. She couldn’t imagine Mason taking offense at such a minor theft after every other betrayal he’d brushed away without complaint. Still, Phoenix’s hand trembled as she held out jewelry that didn’t belong to her. “Here. This is yours.”
Behind her back, Sarah emitted an abrupt exhalation of air. But it wasn’t a disappointed gasp. More of a romantic, rings-are-being-exchanged-between-my-son-and-a-girl-he-likes sort of gasp. Phoenix had a feeling when such a gesture was less innocent and more associated with an “I do,” there would be major waterworks coinciding with the event.
Only Sarah was right and Phoenix was wrong yet again. Because Mason knelt down at her feet for the second time in twenty-four hours, squeezing oversized jewelry between two glowing fists. And when he opened his hands back up the ring had been reduced to half its size, just the right fit to slide onto a female finger and stay put for as long as a fire mage might want it there.
The mage in question was pretty sure that length of time would be...well...forever.
“Phoenix,” her dragon started. He paused to clear his throat, a mist of steam rising up from abruptly watery eyes. Then he began again. “Phoenix. You barely even know me, so I won’t ask for promises. But you’re wrong. This ring isn’t mine; it’s yours. I hope you’ll wear it so everyone will know that you’re precious to me. You’re my treasure. And maybe some day you’ll feel the same way about me.”
Two days earlier, Fee had thought she possessed no remaining reason to live. But now, as she breathed in Mason’s sweet marshmallow aroma and listened to the quiet sobs of joy from the woman behind her back, Phoenix realized she’d been naive.
Not naive in attempting to win the love of a father who cared for no one except himself. But naive in thinking that just because her own family was irrevocably broken, she could never find a cherished spot for herself in the world beyond Malachi’s domain.
The signet ring slid onto the third finger of her left hand like warm hope kindling inside a cold, dead chest. And as the shifter before her rose to his feet, Phoenix fell into his embrace yet again, feeling every bit like a lump of coal flaring bright as it dropped into a blazing inferno.
Flames encircled them both. Magenta and blue, then red, yellow, and white as dragon and mage power danced and flared in joyous abandon. Together, they were far more than either had been apart
. Together, they could take on the universe.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Phoenix said quietly above the crackling of flames. She leaned in closer, basking in Mason’s warmth, sweetness, and strength. “There’s no need to wait. I’m pretty sure I already love you too.”
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED Incendiary Magic! If so, you won’t want to miss Zane’s story—Verdant Magic—now available to buy and borrow on all retailers. Or you can simply turn the page for a sneak peak.
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Thanks for reading. You are why I write.
Verdant Magic
Partly cloudy with chance of dragons....
The chime on her enchanted weather vane gradually pulled Amber out of her intense gardening trance. She absently brushed a strand of mousy hair away from her face with the least grimy part of her palm, then jolted alert as she took in the forecast.
Momma’s weather vane has been wrong before, she wavered. At her feet, fifteenth-generation experimental seedlings were just beginning to grow, plantlets sprouting quickly as filaments of magic streamed from fingertips into the dark, moist loam. The babies were doing great...for the moment.
On the other hand, if left alone in this condition, half would be dead by morning. Pointy cotyledons would dessicate in hours beneath the pounding summer sun and hungry slugs would move in to chew up sensitive stalks as soon as evening dew fell.
But furthering her dead parents’ experiments didn’t hold a candle to protecting present human life. Ten years earlier, the weather vane had been horrifyingly, life-alteringly right. Amber wasn’t willing to risk a repeat. After all, it was her job as Watcher to make sure the village continued to slide beneath dragons’ fire-spewing radar.
“Jasmine!” she called, jumping to her feet. Fingertips left inch-deep imprints in the earth, the brief touch sufficient to recharge her mild use of borrowed life force. But the energetic boost was momentary, her elevated mood quickly overshadowed by the first sign that her weather vane knew what it was talking about.
Because as she turned to take in the view, every tree ringing the garden began swaying gently to the tune of a sudden breeze. In any other location, the influx of cool air would have come as a welcome relief, too. After all, helpful tendrils of wind sipped sweat off the back of Amber’s neck and soothed her parched throat.
Still, she ignored momentary pleasure and broke into a run. “Jasmine!” she called again, trying not to think about the way encircling hillsides prevented even the mildest air flow from dipping down into her protected hollow.
Even the mildest natural air flow, that was. Dragons, on the other hand, flew where they willed.
The rustle of dancing leaves above her head built into a thrashing chatter of branches, prompting Amber to give up on catching the teenager’s attention the easy way. Jasmine’s tie to the earth tended to make her absent-minded when surrounded by the Green—the network of sentient plants that had popped into existence twenty-nine years earlier. Here in Amber’s garden, the wild magic of growing things thrummed through the air and tapped all earth witches relentlessly on the shoulder. Her young apprentice’s walls wouldn’t have stood long against such a sustained assault.
So her third shout wasn’t for the girl. Instead, she shrieked the name of her goat at the top of her lungs. “Thea!” she hollered, barely able to make out her own words over the ever-nearing roar of wings.
The blood-curdling scream of a terrified mini-Nubian pulled Amber up short and turned her in the opposite direction from the way she’d originally been traveling. Thea wouldn’t have strayed far from the girl’s side, which meant Jasmine was no longer potting up seedlings out of battered plastic flats back at her cabin. Instead, the goat’s voice pinpointed the duo’s location off to the southeast, where one tiny tributary of the River Wend stroked its path through the center of her hollow’s hunched shoulders. There, the encircling canopy opened up to expose objects on the ground to the eye of every passing bird...or to the much more dangerous eye of passing dragons.
“Jasmine!” she called again, hoping the goat’s cry had been sufficient to wake the girl out of whatever earthen daze she’d fallen into. And, to her relief, the teen replied at last, her shrill tones carrying easily above the throbbing beat of the dragon’s thunderous wings.
“Amber!”
“Go home!” the latter ordered, stopping in her tracks so she’d possess sufficient air to broadcast her words a quarter of a mile to the girl’s youthful ears. The Green would help, she knew, vines twisting aside to let an earth witch’s orders carry. Still, she needed to holler and she couldn’t do that while running. “Tell your father to get everyone into the tunnels and to lie low until I call them.”
“But Thea won’t follow!”
Despite the danger that approached on massive wings, Amber couldn’t resist smiling at the girl’s care for her cherished goat. Of course Thea wouldn’t leave her mistress, even in the face of dragon fire. “She’ll come to me,” Amber yelled back. “Leave her and run like a rabbit. Go now.”
The girl would appear as a tiny spark of green to the dragon’s searching eyes, Amber knew. A largely untrained earth witch, Jasmine wouldn’t be able to shield her powers from aerial predators. She’d be easy pickings for anyone hunting magical prey.
Time to make a bigger spark so that little spark will have time to go to ground.
Abruptly, Amber sank down onto her haunches, pressing fingers into the leaf mold to join grubby toes that had long since burrowed into the musty, decomposing remnants of plant matter past. Immediately, microscopic fungal filaments latched onto her skin, the mycorrhizal hyphae slipping between cells of her cuticles to sip from her bloodstream.
The first invasion felt like the pinpricks of a thousand tiny needles. But then her flesh warmed and the pain faded.
When she’d been Jasmine’s age and first coming into her powers, Amber had deemed the symbiosis “gross.” Now, though, tapping into the underground network that connected trees and vines and toadstools felt like waking up from a long, deep sleep. After hours spent walking on two feet with only her human senses to guide her, she abruptly became the Green, thousands of miles long and aware of every fox and vole and turtle passing through her forest’s sheltered expanse.
As a result, she could sense the ache as dragon wings shook a faltering tree branch loose from the tall elm up on top of Cemetery Hill. And her teeth chattered at the crash of the sundered limb plummeting to land on a bed of clover inches away from her parents’ grave.
“You got them, but you won’t get Jasmine,” Amber muttered aloud. She’d thought she was talking to herself, but soft nostrils nuzzled at the scruff of her neck as Thea made her presence known. Crazy goat. Trust the food-obsessed ruminant to ignore dragons and instead search for treats down the back of her mistress’s shirt.
There wasn’t time to send Thea to safety, though. Not when Amber’s magical billboard was attracting the dragon like soft baby flesh drew mosquitoes.
Sure enough, the beast soared into view directly above their heads at that very moment. And for an instant, Amber forgot that dragons were terrible, the born enemies of earth witches. Instead, she momentarily lost her train of thought in breathless wonder.
This specimen was beautiful. Ebony sparked against sunlight, each scale as large as the palm of her hand. A twenty-foot tail whipped through the air like a rudder, slicing leaves from the crown of a towering sycamore as he relentlessly honed in on his prey. Meanwhile, slitted eyes gleamed with intelligence.
“Come and get me, you bastard,” Amber muttered under her breath. Not that she thought her words would carry above the roar of manufactured wind, but she had a hard time keeping the sentiment to herself.
Then, to her dismay, a second dragon appeared, golden-scaled and even more awe-inspiring than the first. This beast was nearly twice as large as the lea
der, and he seemed to vibrate with a barely repressed power that clutched at Amber’s chest with fiery claws.
Shaking her head to dismiss the strange sensation, Amber reminded herself that she had a job to do. She was the Watcher. And whether the invaders consisted of one dragon or a dozen, she was bound and determined to keep the predators away from Greenwich. Like her parents, she would protect the hidden village until her dying breath.
ZANE HAD NEVER FELT so constrained by the shape of a dragon. Held aloft on fiery wings, he could chase and hunt the lost twin who stubbornly refused to recognize their bond. But his lungs could only roar wordless complaints as he flew. His usual weapon of choice—a silver tongue—was grounded by the same shape that carried him so effortlessly on his way.
All told, the golden dragon felt like he’d spent an eon tracking this brother who thought him an enemy rather than a friend. Years ago, he’d hunted lackadaisically, flying out on short jaunts that never turned up a sign of his absent twin....
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Once, Zane thought he saw a black speck of fleeing dragon off in the distance. But warm bed and welcoming foster family had beckoned after he swooped up over the top of the mountain and seen nothing but blue sky waiting on the other side. He’d chosen to assume that his twin, if living, didn’t want to be found.
Then, last winter, everything had changed.
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”
Jerking away from the painful memory, Zane eyed the snake-like body of the beast cutting through the air before him. His twin’s scales were rough around the edges, the ebony coloration a bit dusky and dingy with wear. Was scuffing a normal reaction to substandard food and shelter, or was his brother already succumbing to the first symptoms of the much-feared Fade?
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