Chapter Ten
WREN
Iwoke to the smell of soup.
Instantly awake, my nostrils flared as I catalogued the scents immediately. Rich broth, sweetbread glazed in honey, roasted roots, fried dumplings, and fruit so ripe it dripped down the sides of platters. Something smoky curled through it all. Something spicy enough to sting my nose.
My stomach growled before my eyes even opened. When I finally blinked awake, the treehouse glowed gold with lantern light.
Every surface was covered. Platters crowded the table. Bowls overflowed. Breads, fruits, and pastries were stacked high along the windowsill. Bundles of herbs and flowers filled the corners. Bright fabrics and woven gifts had been draped over railings and chairs like offerings.
For a second, I just stared. “What—”
Enya swept past carrying a steaming pot, then stopped when she saw me upright. “Good. You’re awake. Eat before you fall over.”
“I’m not going to fall over,” I muttered. “What is all this?”
“You nearly did twice already,” Yazmine called cheerfully from the firepit. “We’re not risking it a third time. And everyone is a bit … excited after defeating the vampyres, and the prospect of new drakens. And don’t forget your impending birth of new draken blood, of course.”
She gestured toward my stomach.
Kieran lifted his head from the floor, hair a complete mess as he yawned. Benedict pushed himself upright more carefully, jaw tight. Ronan blinked slowly, like he’d forgotten where he was entirely. Benedict was on his knees at my side a moment later, sniffing my neck and my baby bump.
“All good?” I asked cheekily.
He nipped at my ear. “For now.”
Mara pressed a bowl into my hands. “Eat. Slowly.”
It smelled divine. Warmth spread through me with every sip, grounding me back into my body. Back into the moment. Back into this—this impossible, hard-won peace.
My mates lounged around my nest of cushions, watching me intently to ensure I did what I was told.
“Mates,” Enya said, sharply efficient, “look outside.”
“What’s outside?” I asked. I stood carefully. My legs still felt unsteady, but stronger than before. Benedict took one side of me. Kieran the other.
Together, we stepped out onto the platform.
And I stopped.
The entire island stretched beneath us.
All our drakens filled the platforms and branches below, wings brushing wings, bodies packed close in a sea of scales and color. Lantern light shimmered across them, gold and amber and fire-bright. Witches mingled among them, the few hybrid children giggling and laughing as they ran.
Earth witches gathered in clusters, hands resting on baskets of food and woven goods. Air witches drifted above, sending petals spiraling through the air in slow, dancing currents. Seawitches stood at the edges—awkward on land, but present.
All of them.
“What is all this?” Benedict grumbled, even as Kieran grinned like a loon and elbowed him.
“Like Enya said, excitement for the future. Plus, the season is turning into summer. Seemed as good a time as any for a party.”
Benedict’s hands came to rest at my shoulders, grounding and warm.
“For you,” he whispered.
I shook my head faintly. “Not just me.”
“For all of us,” Kieran corrected quietly.
Ronan’s hand pressed gently to the small of my back. “You brought us here.”
My throat tightened.
The moment we stepped forward out onto our platform, the island erupted.
Cheers crashed upward through the branches and feet thundered on the ground. Drums began to pound, deep and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of the island itself. Flutes cut through the air, bright and wild.
Seawitches shrieked their joy. Air witches answered in spirals of sound that made the platform hum beneath my feet. Vines crept upward along the treehouse, blooming into flowers in real time.
They weren’t just celebrating.
They were alive. The island was alive.
Voices called up to us.
“To new beginnings!”
“To Lyoness reborn!”
“To the future of our blood!”
The baby inside of me stirred, as if recognizing the calls.
More gifts came.
Earth witches brought woven carriers and blankets alive with growing vines. Air witches carried wing-covers stitched with shifting patterns. Seawitches tossed shimmering shells and pearls onto the lower decks.
Drakling children danced in chaotic circles, wings flapping wildly, laughter spilling out of them as they chased one another through the crowd.
Ronan made a soft sound beside me as Kieran wiped at his eyes without shame. Benedict covered his mouth briefly, trying—and failing—to hide how much this meant to him.
The island pulsed joy, hope, and relief.
“The future!” someone shouted.
“The future!” the crowd echoed.
My heart felt as though it would explode.
But the joy didn’t touch everyone.
Off to the side, on a quieter platform, almost forgotten, stood Nerissa and Canavar. He leaned over her like a dark angel, wings tense with his hands on her shoulders. Grief clung to them like a shadow that wouldn’t lift.
Nerissa met my gaze, dipping her head once. My hand pressed on my belly instinctively.
Before I could move toward her, Benedict went still beside me. I closed my eyes and felt something as well: a pull of sorts. It was an uncomfortable itch under my skin, unnerving and wrong and demanding my attention.
Kieran’s posture shifted immediately, sensing it as well. “What is it?”
Ronan’s eyes grew alert.
“A disturbance,” Benedict murmured. “Not the wards … something smaller.”
Ronan straightened. “Where?”
“One of the young witchlings,” Benedict said. “A young one. Her spark—”
I felt it then, a faint tug at the edge of my awareness. It was bright, reckless, and familiar.
“That’s Perri,” I said immediately, clocking the troublesome but adorable witchling’s aura quickly.
“Where is she?” Ronan asked.
Benedict’s expression tightened. “Climbing the volcano.”
I stared at him. “Of course she is.”
“She’s two,” Kieran said dryly. “This tracks.”
Enya huffed from behind us. “Slipped off during the celebrations. That one is always running.”
My instincts screamed to go after her, but I could barely wobble. It was impossible to find her parents in the crowd, and it wouldn’t be good to ruin the party by panicking everyone. Benedict hesitated, no doubt having the same struggles.
Did we call for her parents? Did we send guards?
Benedict’s lips thinned, as if coming to a conclusion he didn’t like. His gaze shifted to Ronan.
Kieran stepped forward without hesitation. “Great idea. Ronan can get her.”
Benedict’s jaw tightened. His anger flickered there, but he didn’t say no.
“Benedict,” Kieran pressed, gripping the wooden railing tightly. “Let him make it up to you.”
There was a tense beat of silence while he considered it.
“Fine,” Benedict said. “Bring her back.”
Ronan blinked. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, you,” Kieran said, clapping him on the shoulder and grinning.
Ronan straightened slowly.
“I will,” he said. “I swear.”
Benedict rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s the idea.”
The noise of the crowd faded in my ears, even though I knew it hadn’t.
“I won’t fail,” Ronan added, quieter.
“You won’t,” Benedict said, sharply, but not unkindly.
Kieran gave Ronan a shove toward the edge. “Go.”
Ronan didn’t hesitate again. His wings snapped open—bronze catching the lantern light—and he launched into the sky, cutting through the celebration like an arrow.
Straight toward the dark silhouette of the volcano.
The music surged again behind him, petals swirling upward. Below us, the island roared with life.
And Lyoness, our home, welcomed whatever came next.