Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kjeld was stretched out in bed with Caelian curled into his side when a crackling sound jarred him from sleep.
His eyes flew open, but his body remained perfectly still. Unmoving.
He slowed his breathing, calmed the entwined beating of his and Caelian’s hearts, and listened.
Outside the stained glass window of their room, the rosy hue of dawn was slowly slinking across the sky.
There was no pattering of rainfall, no voices from the first stirrings of early-rising Druids setting up their carts for the market.
Even the Eldergrove was mostly hushed with the quiet of sleep, save for those who served to guard and protect.
On the bedside table beside him, Kaldflam rested.
Kjeld waited.
The crackling noise occurred again, accompanied by the faintest purr and whine.
The dragons.
Shoving a hand through his hair, he slipped from the bed and pulled on a pair of pants.
He padded toward the nest of blankets, where wavering candlelight flickered and spat.
Crouching low, he inspected the three eggs.
As suspected, one of the onyx ones, presumably a male, cracked first. Bits of hard shell broke away as a small set of claws broke through, accompanied by a snout and a pair of intense yellow eyes that latched onto him.
The whelp croaked, and Kjeld sat back, chuckling at its first attempt to roar.
“Ready for battle now, are you?”
He set aside the pieces of outer shell as the little one stretched its fibrous wings. This one was covered in sleek black scales that shimmered faintly in the dim light. An exact replica of his father, Svartos.
From the bed, Caelian stirred and hummed. “Kjeld?”
“I’m here, Starweaver.”
She sat up, sheets falling around her waist, her perfect breasts sending a bolt of desire through him. He crushed the sensation as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her bleary gaze landing on him before clarity struck and her mouth fell open.
“Stars above,” she whispered, climbing out of the bed. She pulled on her discarded nightgown, really nothing more than a slip of impossibly sheer fabric, and tiptoed toward him as the second onyx shell started to crack. “He’s beautiful.”
“Aye, he is.” Kjeld opened his hand, and the dragon nuzzled his palm, crawling over the pile of blankets. “He’ll be hungry soon, too.”
“Should I fetch some milk?” Caelian asked, her brows pinching together.
Kjeld laughed. “No, freshly hatched dragons don’t drink milk. They already have teeth, you see. They’ll need meat, raw sustenance.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll have to kill for them first until we can teach them to hunt.
And they will need to learn humans, or Druids and fae rather, are off limits.
” He glanced over at the second egg, where a wing claw was poking through its shell.
“Rabbit or squirrel should work fine if you want to find some of those to start.”
She didn’t respond, and Kjeld looked up at her, only to find she had turned a sickly shade of green.
“You want…” Caelian swallowed, gulping hard. “You want me to murder an innocent woodland creature?”
Kjeld bit his lip to keep from laughing, only because she looked truly horrified by the prospect. “No, Cae. Not you personally. Go to the kitchens and see if they have any raw meat available. I’ll restock whatever the whelps eat.”
“Right.” Her color hadn’t quite returned, but a gust of air whooshed from between her lips. “Of course. I’ll go see what I can find. Do we need anything else?”
“Maybe an extra pair of hands?” He nodded toward the window. “We’ll have to take them out into the Myrkwild first thing for training. And I’ll have to find a safe space for them to live.”
“You mean they’re not staying with us?” Concern clouded her voice.
“They can stay in the Eldergrove while they’re small, but that won’t last long.” Kjeld pushed off the ground, and the young whelp clambered toward him. “They’ll be fully grown in a year, and far too large to stay here before then.”
“I suppose I have a lot to learn about raising dragons.” Caelian clasped her hands together, her gaze trekking over to the second egg, where the dragon was almost fully hatched. She spun quickly on one heel. “I’ll go see if I can find some raw meat so they’re not hungry.”
“Caelian.” Kjeld’s voice held a clip of command, and she stuttered to a stop, turning back to face him. “I beg you to put on something other than that nightgown before you leave this room.”
She glanced down at her attire, and a blush bloomed in her cheeks. “I suppose this doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
He pretended not to stare while she changed, like he didn’t already have every curve and dip of her body memorized.
She opted for a dress of soft blue that tumbled from her hips in layers of creamy white.
Forgoing a corset, she bound her waist with a belt, the leather engraved with flowers and birds.
Piling her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, she blew him a kiss before rushing out of the room with bare feet.
Kjeld admired the baby dragon crawling around his ankles. “We’ll have to give you a strong Northernlands name, won’t we?”
The whelp squawked, and Kjeld’s face split into a grin.
He’d missed this. He missed raising the young dragons, he missed watching them grow into powerful beasts capable of decimating entire towns with one fire-filled breath.
And that was another reason he needed to find them someplace else to live.
They were currently in a damn tree. All it took was for one of them to have a temper tantrum, and an errant spark or spit of flame would catch the whole place on fire.
They needed to be taught and trained somewhere safe for everyone, where they could learn from mistakes, where they could become the magnificent creatures of legend.
The second onyx egg splintered wide, and another babe fought its way out.
Another male, just as Kjeld thought, noted by the curving horn on the tip of its snout.
This one pushed out of its shell, his scales glossy black like his brother’s, but his eyes were the profound blue of his mother, Astrylys.
He screeched and hissed, clomping over the pile of blankets, before losing his footing and tumbling down one side onto the hardwood.
Kjeld smirked. “You think you’ve got this all figured out, eh? Your brother came out ready to breathe fire, and here you are, charging into the fray.”
He folded his arms over his chest, the brothers already flapping their wings and attempting the snap at one another. He squatted to the floor, running a hand along their rough scales, acclimating them to touch. “Just waiting on your sister now.”
Assumably a female, since the silvery egg had not yet stirred.
The two whelps pranced and squawked, each of them vying for his attention. Their tails were long, and with their wings unfolded, they would both be massive. Of that, he was certain.
Kjeld was about to measure the size of their wing claws when Caelian rushed through the door with Sylvan right behind her, carrying a stack of raw meat packaged in thick brown parchment.
“Wow,” he breathed, just as Caelian squealed, “Another one!”
Kjeld strode over to them and accepted the wrapped chunks of meat. “I’ll take these. Wouldn’t want anyone to accidentally lose a hand.”
Sylvan’s umber skin turned ashen, and Caelian took a hesitant step back.
“I’m only joking.” Kjeld flashed them both a mocking smile. “No one loses any extremities…unless I command it.”
Sylvan stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind them. His twists of white hair were pulled back into a ponytail, and though his eyes held a shadow of worry, his tone remained calm and confident. “You train the young ones, then?”
“Aye. Train them. Teach them.” Kjeld’s heart was suddenly heavy.
“It would be different if their mother was here. I would wait until they were older before stepping in, because even though I had a legion of dragons under my command in Brackroth, we wanted the babes to stay with their mothers for as long as possible. Maintain some of those wild tendencies, those innate abilities that only come from being around other dragons.”
“I understand.” Sylvan’s brows clashed together. “So these young ones will not have the benefit of a mother to teach them the way of the world. That responsibility falls to you now.”
It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact, proof Sylvan was in tune with the natural order of things.
“Correct.” Kjeld nodded once as the brothers circled around him. “But I’ve raised orphans in the past, and this shouldn’t be too different. The good thing is they’ve already imprinted on me, so they think I’m their parent.”
“Imprinted?” Caelian asked, dropping to her knees to brush a hand over the last remaining egg. “What’s an imprint?”
“It’s much like a connection.” Kjeld didn’t miss the way her lips parted the moment he spoke the word. Her sapphire eyes darkened in the glow of early sunlight pouring in through the window. “Some would say love at first sight, hence these two following me everywhere I go.”
To prove his point, he walked toward the opposite end of the room, and both dragons screeched and hopped, refusing to leave his side. He stopped, planting his hands on his hips. “But I think it’s deeper than that.”
“Indeed,” Sylvan agreed, blowing out a steady breath as he reached to pet one of the whelps. The one with the yellow eyes stretched his small neck, reaching for Sylvan’s outstretched hand. “Imprinting is a bond, similar to how Druids feel in regard to the world around us.”
Caelian ran her fingers over the ridges of the silver egg. “What do you think—oh!” She jerked her hand back and looked up at Kjeld, her eyes wide with wonder. “It moved.”
Kjeld nodded. “Just stay right where you are, she’ll poke her little head through soon enough.”
“Do I need to do anything? To help her, that is?” Caelian asked, twisting her hands in her lap while she gnawed her bottom lip.