Chapter 8 #2
I did the math in my head. He’d been born in the year 577. In my time, he was over fourteen hundred years old. Reeling a little, I looked at Albie.
“I’m seven hundred and fifty-two years old,” he said.
Over a thousand in my time, I realized, the weight of their ages—and the vast span between us—settling over me. I’d spent my entire life around immortals, and just about everyone I knew measured their birthdays in centuries instead of years. But I’d never considered dating one of them.
Not that I was thinking of dating Albie and Tavish. Because I most certainly was not.
“Albie is the last full-blooded dragon ever born,” Tavish said.
The quiet pronouncement jerked me from my thoughts.
“Is that true?” I asked Albie.
He sobered. “Aye. My mother was sick with the Curse when she delivered me. She died hours later, and my fathers followed a year after that.” He looked at Tavish.
“My story is similar,” he said, “although, my mother didn’t fall ill until I was hundreds of years old.”
An ache filled my chest. I’d grown up in the shadow of the Curse, the darkness growing longer every year that passed without another female birth. But Tavish and Albie had witnessed its devastation up close. They’d lived it.
“Is the king truly well in the future?” Albie asked, something tentative in the question, as if he dared to hope I’d told the truth about my dad’s recovery.
“He is,” I said. And a sudden realization made me gasp. “My fathers are alive right now. They’re in this timeline. I could go speak to them—”
“No,” Albie said sharply. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“Disturbing the past can have disastrous consequences for the future.” Obvious worry creased his brow. “I’ve read accounts of chronomancers who tried to change events to suit their own purposes. The results were catastrophic.”
My heart sank. Then a new kind of panic gripped me.
“What if I’ve already disturbed it too much just by being here?
” A chicken wandered close, clucking as it brushed the hem of my skirts.
Oh gods, what if every step I took rippled into the future?
A sneeze could erase my mother. One wrong move could jeopardize my own existence.
“That’s why we need to see the chronomancer,” Albie said. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
He rushed up the Great Hall’s steps, leaving me alone with Tavish. The latter folded his arms over his broad chest. He’d rolled his sleeves to the elbow, exposing more of his tattoos.
“You look worried,” he said.
I didn’t try hiding my anger. “Wouldn’t you be?”
“No. Maybe.”
“No or maybe?”
He lifted massive shoulders. “The future is never set in stone, lass. The past, however…” He shrugged again. “Whatever happened has already happened, even if you don’t know it yet.”
I tried to follow his logic. “But if I’m from the future, and I’m here now, wouldn’t anything I do change my timeline?”
“Or perhaps you were always meant to come back.” Unfolding his arms, he took a step closer, and the scent of leather and something herbal drifted with him.
“Perhaps everything you do here has already been accounted for in your time.” He took another step, his blue eyes gleaming.
“Maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, hmm? ”
“No,” I said, taking a step back.
“Running from it won’t change it.”
“I’m not supposed to be here,” I insisted. “You don’t have running water.” I’d learned that the hard way when Albie showed me the chamber pot under my bed. “Or Wi-Fi,” I said.
Tavish looked bemused. “Why-what?”
“Don’t worry about it. The water is already a dealbreaker.”
He gave me one of his lazy smiles as he continued toward me. “I like the way you talk, Portia.”
Desire pulsed between my thighs. Cursing my dragon, I kept backing up. “Well, don’t get used to it.”
Albie emerged from the castle with a leather satchel in his hand. His kilt swung around his thighs as he ran lightly down the steps.
Tavish stopped, giving me a look that said to be continued.
“You can store your clothes in here while we fly,” Albie said, opening the satchel. He looked between Tavish and me. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing that can’t keep,” Tavish said, taking the satchel from him. He turned to me.
I grabbed the satchel and hugged it to my chest. “You shift first.”
Tavish frowned. “I don’t think—”
“All right,” Albie said. He looked at Tavish, whose frowned turned into a glower. “Tavish?” Albie prompted.
For a moment, Tavish looked like he’d argue. Then he spun in a whirl of tartan, strode a few dozen steps away, and twisted into smoke. The black cloud streamed into the air before bursting into an enormous dragon.
My breath caught. Tavish was beautiful, his scales a dark, glittering blue. His tail whipped the air, raising a wind that tugged at my hair and stirred straw on the ground. The chickens scattered, squawking indignantly. In the paddock, the horses snorted and moved to the far fence.
Albie gave Tavish an admiring look, then turned to me. “Ready, lass?”
No. I nodded. “Okay.”
He gave me one of his searching looks, and I could almost picture little question marks popping into the air around his head.
“Could you turn around?” I asked, unhooking my jacket.
He startled, his brows drawing together.
“I’m not going to run away,” I said, shrugging out of the jacket.
Too late, I remembered my corset and its stubborn laces.
Any other time, I’d shift to smoke and let my clothes drop to the ground.
But when I tugged at my magic, it remained dormant.
Heat touched my face as I half-turned, showing Albie my back. “Actually, could you…?”
“Ah, yes,” he said, coming to me. A few tugs later, the corset loosened enough for me to slip my arms free. Albie stepped back, then averted his gaze.
I stripped off the rest of my clothes and stuffed them into the satchel. Please, I begged my dragon. Please let me shift.
Just as my worry reached a fever pitch, my dragon rushed under my skin. Instantly, the itch was fierce and demanding. I twisted into smoke, then shot into the air and spun into my beast. Flapping my wings hard, I gave a loud snort of relief.
But irritation was hot on its heels. My dragon didn’t want to leave, so she was selectively cooperating.
Tavish swooped past in a ripple of glittering blue wings. Claws bared, he alighted atop one of the castle’s towers and curled his body around it, his tail flicking the stone.
Snorting again, I pivoted away from him with a swish of my wings. Albie was a small dot on the ground. He stared up at me, his glasses winking in the morning sunlight. Even from a distance, the naked emotion on his face shivered all the way to my soul.
Wonder, longing, and grief stamped his features. Something like guilt swept me. His mother and every other female he’d known had died from the Curse. And now I wanted to deprive him of a chance to be with his mate.
Except I couldn’t stay in his world. Which meant I couldn’t be his female. I just couldn’t.
Tavish snorted, smoke curling from his nostrils. He jerked his massive head toward the sky.
Albie swirled into smoke, spiraled into the air, and took shape as a golden dragon with amber-colored eyes. He was smaller than Tavish, but his movements were lightning fast as he dipped back toward the courtyard and snatched the satchel from the ground. Then he sped toward the north.
Tavish gave me an unmistakably mischievous look, one brow ridge climbing toward his horns. With another obnoxious snort, he shoved away from the tower and hovered in the air.
“After you,” he said in the dragon tongue, the sibilant words rolling from the clouds of smoke that billowed between his fangs.
I pumped my wings. “Try to keep up,” I answered in the same language. Then I shot after Albie with Tavish’s rumbling laughter echoing in my wake.
Wind rushed over my scales. Cool, clean air filled my nostrils and swirled down to my lungs. I pumped my wings, climbing higher. Albie was a brown speck far ahead of me. He’d sliced through the air like a knife.
Tavish appeared beside me, his eyes a brighter blue in this form. “Albie is faster than any dragon on this plane or any other. If you’re thinking of trying to evade us, don’t. He’ll catch you.”
I huffed, smoke rolling from my nostrils. “I’m not going to run.”
Tavish dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Yet,” I added.
He slanted me a warning look, flames dancing in his eyes. Then he stretched his neck and flew faster.
After a moment, Albie circled back, and the three of us swooped and darted among the clouds.
The land below was the green carpet I’d seen a thousand times, but now it was dotted with forests and castles with bustling courtyards and smoking chimneys.
Villages with stone houses and thatched roofs huddled in valleys.
Horses pulled carts and carriages. Sheep and shaggy Highland cattle grazed in the fields. More castles appeared. More villages. Not a car or power line in sight.
And the colors were brighter. The air was like a gulp of cold water at the end of a long, hot day. Every breath I drew was cut like crystal, each facet achingly pure.
An island appeared in the distance, its craggy coastline jutting from the sea. Waterfalls spilled down the sides of jagged cliffs, and a strip of golden sand hugged the base of the rocks.
Albie swept golden eyes over Tavish and me, then darted for the beach. Tavish and I followed, landing in a rush of wind and sand. The sea crashed against the shore, spray misting my wings.
The men shifted, their clothing fully intact. Albie approached with the satchel, and I let the transformation sweep me.
“We’re close,” Albie said, helping me into my chemise. “The guidebook says the chronomancer lives nearby.”