Chapter 30 #2
Ash removed her black parka, then stilled. Footsteps echoed from the tunnel entrance. Jesus. So quick? Do they have infrared security lights trained on this place?
Race cast her an indulgent smile as he rose. No cameras. Just lookouts. I sensed them as we reformed.
Attor, Koal, and Skaldr entered, followed by Talon-Marshal Varkyn. But it was the fifth figure that gave her pause.
Tall and elegant, the woman glided inside, wearing the Resistance’s earthy colors—worn brown leathers and a belted green tunic. Her copper hair, pulled into a sleek high ponytail, swung with her movements. Even in plain battle dress, her animalistic grace marked her as someone used to action.
Golden green eyes swept the cave, glossing over Ash before fixing with predatory interest on Race.
Ash slowly set her parka onto the stone seat and sat again, watching.
This should be interesting.
“Sire.” The woman bowed, her voice honey-smooth. “I am Rhaedra, chief strategist for the Southern Resistance.”
Race inclined his head in acknowledgment, back to his reserved self. He folded his arms over his chest and waited.
“We’ve confirmed the site,” Varkyn said.
Koal dropped Ash a quick, warm smile, one that said you’re not really supposed to be here, but that he was glad she was.
Ash smiled back.
Rhaedra opened her satchel and drew out several maps, spreading them across the rough stone floor. The parchments were old, the edges frayed, the surface marked with what looked like patrol routes and supply lines. The others crouched low, studying the terrain.
From what Ash could see, the woman knew her craft.
“The breeding camps are here.” Rhaedra’s talon traced near a range. “Getting the women out is our priority—”
“And the children?” Race’s voice cut across hers, hard as flint.
“Secondary objective. The breeders are key to Malcarion’s power—”
“Both matter.” He hunkered down, his eyes narrowed, scanning the map.
“Yes, of course, sire.” Rhaedra turned the map his way, then shifted closer, with all the sinuous grace of a fox.
Ash rose, smoothing her shrunken, maroon ribbed top that refused to stay down and revealed a handspan of her waist. She skirted the firepit, didn’t intrude, and just stood behind Attor and Skaldr.
The she-dragon dragged her talon across the map again. “I suggest we strike here, at Gildershard Mount, when the moon’s dark.”
The terrain’s mapping nagged at Ash’s mind. She moved to the side and studied the faded charts and the landscape. Something wasn’t right.
She looked up, meeting Attor’s quiet stare, Koal’s wry one, and Skaldr, who, of course, looked like he wanted to murder someone. Varkyn, at least, remained politely impassive.
Why are they watching me like that? she telepathed Race.
They can smell me on you, he replied dryly. Even with the smoke from the fire masking your scent.
She bit her lip, fighting a blush. And her?
He rose to his feet. Hard to say. She-dragons don’t reveal much.
Ash barely suppressed a snort. If she had to guess, that one likely wanted to cuddle up with Race.
A flicker of dry amusement slid through the bond. Ugh. He’d heard every word of her thoughts. Ash’s face went hot in an instant.
“This map,” Ash said, keeping her tone neutral, “does it account for what’s been happening here lately, weather-wise?” She pointed to the wobbly lines marking the mountains. “Because that’ll affect airflow in this section.”
Rhaedra’s cool gaze flicked over her as if she were a buzzing insect. “This is sufficient. We stake out everything. Nothing is left to chance.”
“Fair enough.” Ash glanced around, picked up a piece of chalky stone from the ground, and crossed to a smooth stretch of dark wall.
The air still felt taut and unstable, the same pressure drag she’d sensed since they’d arrived.
She sketched quick strokes, marking the routes she’d seen on the faded map and the subtle shifts in air currents she’d sensed outside—the kind that could smother flight.
She could feel Race’s curiosity.
It’s a climate map, she said through their mind-link, relieved to finally be useful in the only way she truly trusted. And I know my stuff.
Silence spread through the cave, broken only by the crackle of flames.
“This is what I would want before heading into those passes,” she said to them, without looking at Rhaedra.
“Chalk on stone doesn’t change strategy,” the woman shot back.
“Let her finish.” Varkyn straightened, his gaze flicking between them, then pinning on Ash’s work.
Race folded his arms across his chest, letting her handle it. Her heart swelled at his quiet trust.
“We are dragons, not hindered by mortal limitations.” Rhaedra’s voice dripped with disdain. “Our maps are a guide—”
“Even immortals can fall from the sky.” Ash managed a cool smile.
She crossed to the rock seat, grabbed her parka, and glanced at Race. “Take me to the highest peak near Gildershard Mount. I can read the patterns better from there.”
Rhaedra’s low gasp cut through the air at the audacity of her request to a royal, or maybe at Race’s immediate nod. Her cool gaze flickered between them, then returned to her own maps, dismissing Ash entirely.
Ash stifled a snort as she pulled on her outerwear and zipped up. She had more pressing concerns than a she-dragon’s bruised ego. There were children to save, and her expertise might mean the difference between success and failure.
Outside the cave, Race wrapped his arms around Ash, breathing in the grounding scent of her skin and the faint smoke that clung to her hair. “You okay?”
She nodded, pulling up her fur-trimmed hood. “Wish I had my kit to get a proper reading. Let’s see if I can get even a rough estimate of what the pressure is like here, shall we?”
“You are a Storm Summoner, Ash,” he said softly. “Just call upon what you need to know.”
I am, aren’t I?
The corner of his mouth tipped up at her sassy reply. He dematerialized them, and a breath later, they reformed on a narrow plateau high on the mountain, clouds swirling like ghosts around them.
She shivered, her breath misting white. “It’s freezing here.”
He put a palm to the small of her back, letting his heat seep into her. “We’re in the colder north, still some distance from Gildershard Mount, but safer.”
“It’s fine,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping over the desolate stretch of snow and stone. Then her eyes fluttered shut, lashes dark against her reddened cheeks.
Race watched her breathe as she opened herself to the elements…
And guilt slid through his gut, as cold as the icy wind lashing their bodies. I lied to her.
This morning, the first stirrings of the rut had spiked. He’d taken the potion Hedori usually procured for him to dull it, but the vial was near empty.
Now, every breath of her scent clawed at his control.
Ash shivered, bringing him back to the moment.
Her brow furrowed, her body tilting forward as if the mountain itself was leaning close to whisper to her. He grasped her by the waist, supporting her. Then her eyes snapped open, and she gave a little nod.
“It’s like I thought—the pressure’s dropping faster than I expected.”
Race’s hand traced slow circles on her stomach.
She leaned into him for a moment before straightening. “We’ll need to move sooner.”
He didn’t need the details, not when she carried both the skill of her climatology training and the gift of her bloodline. If she said the storm would be theirs, he believed her.
They returned to find everyone bent over the maps. “So, she knows a little about the weather,” Rhaedra was saying to the others as they entered. “This isn’t the human world—”
Everyone looked up at their arrival.
Race frowned, but Ash showed no sign she’d heard.
She pushed her hood back, bits of her hair escaping its little ponytail, then crossed to the wall, where her rough sketch sprawled.
“Two days,” she said, tapping a ridge in her drawing, her cheeks still wind-flushed.
“The front’s accelerating. The window will be shorter, but the cover will be better. ”
“That’s not much time,” Attor murmured, tapping a finger over his mouth.
“No, it isn’t,” Race agreed. “But we’ll work with it. Ash?”
She traced the mountain’s contours with a fingertip.
“Two nights from now, the fronts will collide. Wind and cloud cover will mask movement and sound. The storm will create a blind spot. Dragons rely on thermal lifts for flight, yes?” The shifters’ team murmured assent.
She had their attention. “Then this low-pressure cell will disrupt their flight patterns.”
“Impossible to predict the weather so precisely,” Rhaedra scoffed, folding her arms under her breasts, her chin tipped in challenge.
“Not for a Storm Summoner.” Ash’s voice carried calm certainty. “We’ll have roughly a six-hour window while the storm passes and the eye holds. Once your teams are in place, I’ll keep the eye steady.”
Race’s chest tightened with pride…and more.
“These wind patterns match what our scouts reported,” Attor’s gravelly voice broke the silence. “Guards losing altitude in crosswinds.”
She gave the older shifter a little smile. “While the storm rages, the blind spot works for us. We’ll reach the children before anyone realizes what’s happening. The thunder and wind will mask the explosions. But everyone must be in position before the eye opens.”
“Good.” Varkyn folded his huge arms over his barreled chest. “We breach the eastern flank, drop the whole ridge. Simple.”
“Simple gets children killed,” Ash countered before Race could. “We take the keystones out, let the mountain vent. Controlled chaos.”
Attor frowned. “You’re certain?”
She nodded, touching the morvaen stone at her throat. “I’ve okayed avalanches for rescue drills in the Alps. I know the risk. But this will hold.”
“Then controlled chaos it is,” Race said.
Rhaedra slowly straightened, her previous disdain giving way to tactical assessment as she approached Ash’s crude map. “Let me show you where our forces will be positioned. If we time this right…” She tapped the weather marks. “We might just pull this off.”
“We will.” Ash lifted her chin with that familiar, maddening determination he knew so well.
And for a moment, Race could only look at her—the human who stood among dragons, unbowed. His equal. His mate, who’d even gotten through to a hardheaded she-dragon.
Still, a knot of unease twisted low in his gut.
Controlled chaos had a way of turning into the real thing. He only hoped they didn’t get caught in the fallout.