Chapter Seventeen
RONAN
The farther north I flew, the more the world tried to kill me. Not with teeth or claws, but with cold, a cold that gnawed through my scales, turned the air thin and brittle in my lungs, and made every beat of my wings feel sluggish and late.
I was not made for this.
Sweat froze along my back spikes. My breath came in white bursts. The clouds ahead were iron-gray slabs pressing low to the earth, and the trees below had thinned into crooked pines clinging to stony soil.
I forced my wings wider, searching for the telltale scorch of Veskor’s fire or the hint of his scent in the air. Snow made it so difficult. I fucking hated snow. Drakens weren’t meant for fucking snow.
There wasn’t a whisper of heat or anything else in this frozen wasteland.
I dropped lower, letting my claws skim the top of a pine. Snow shook loose in a glittering cascade that stung across my snout.
“Damn it …”
I’d been chasing for hours. My senses were blunted by the cold, my muscles stiffening with each mile, but I couldn’t stop. Perri was out there somewhere, Veskor’s prisoner, that poor, little drakling with the mismatched wings and the sweet, chirpy laugh. Gods, her parents’ faces when she vanished.
I pushed harder.
A scent hit the back of my tongue a moment later: not draken—not Veskor—
Wolf.
And not just any wolf.
A ripple of power moved through the pines, and I landed hard, claws slicing into frost-crusted earth. A shadow detached from the tree line: massive, fur white as moonlit, eyes molten gold.
The Lykos King, Varun. My ally.
He didn’t shift when I approached, but I didn’t expect him to in this cold. If I had thick fur in this weather, I’d keep it too.
“You are much further north than I am used to seeing,” I greeted.
He barked back a rumbling laugh, his voice echoing in my head. As are you. Luckily I have fur thick enough to follow. You do not, lizard boy.
I grinned at the old insult between us.
Ronan, he said, inclining his head with seriousness, you look half frozen.
“I feel half frozen,” I admitted, folding my wings close, “but I can’t stop. A drakling was taken. I have to—”
We know.
His expression softened barely, but enough. We caught the scent of your quarry half a day ago. The rogue draken flew north. Fast. Too fast for any wolf to track in this weather. I have been running all day to try and catch you.
My heart dropped.
“Is the drakling—?”
No blood. No body, he said. That means she’s likely alive, possibly well.
I exhaled shakily: relief, sharp and painful.
“There is nothing well about this cold,” I muttered.
Varun chuckled. You drakens are southern creatures.
“The vampyre packs?” I asked. “Any sign of them?”
He shook his head. The last stragglers approached our territory three nights past—starved, rambling, half-feral. We put them down. I haven’t found any since the last few went charging toward your island. Perhaps they are all gone.
I swallowed.
Good? More like horrible. Yet necessary.
Veskor’s fault.
We can alert the mountain men, he continued, offering suggestions. If your rogue draken keeps north, their passes are the only route. They’ll see him. They could try to stop or delay.
I grimaced. “After everything that happened between us? They might kill him on sight.”
Perhaps. But they won’t kill the child, he said firmly. Their king is a fair man. He won’t abandon a little one to die in the snow for the crimes of her protectors.
The wind howled down the ridge. I hugged my wings around me more tightly, fighting the sting in my eyes.
The mountain men were once a proud race.
I’d even found the name of their kingdom in our archives: Hoveria.
But during the Demon War, their king went mad and Benedict took over their fortress with the surviving drakens.
Their people fled with no leader, forming into little pockets of scavengers who hid in the mountains for the next few generations.
Only after the Demon War ended did they reclaim their castle in stone.
Much like Lyoness.
“We don’t deserve their help,” I muttered.
And the girl doesn’t deserve to suffer, he countered. So we help. For her sake. Our alliances don’t end just because the War did.
Before I could answer, the sky shook. Wings—huge ones. Two shadows dropped from above like descending storms.
Varun grinned. Ah yes, and that was the second bit. Backup is arriving.
I growled, but then recognized at least one of the drakens.
Canavar landed first, claws carving trenches in the ice.
His red-braided hair whipped in the wind, eyes blazing with purpose.
A strange golden draken touched down a breath later: silent, large, and watchful.
I almost thought it was Vilhem before remembering he was long dead.
Ghosts were falling from the sky at an alarming rate these days.
“Ronan,” Canavar rumbled. “You look like you’ve been chewing frost.”
“I feel like it,” I snapped back, too tired to mask it. “I lost Veskor’s trail in the fog. The cold—”
“It weakens all southern drakens,” the strange draken said. His voice was the softest rumble, but it carried weight. “But not Canavar. He can track further. He is more accustomed to the cold than us. How big is Veskor?”
Canavar grunted. “That is Nasi, by the way.”
I nodded once in acknowledgement, trying to decide if Benedict sending them was him helping me or telling me he didn’t trust me.
My heart lurched with hope, painful and sharp. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Perri back, and making Lyoness safe again.
“You’ll help?” I asked.
“We didn’t fly all this way for the view,” Canavar grunted. “We hunt the rogue. We bring back the child.”
Nasi nodded once. “And we help you return with honor.”
My throat tightened.
Honor.
The word tasted foreign now like something I’d lost in the moment I left Wren on the beach. It was something I’d been clawing my way back toward with every beat of my wings.
“We go together,” I said.
“Yes,” Canavar agreed, “but first a fire to warm you up.”
I bristled. “I’m not leaving—”
“You will,” Nasi interrupted quietly, “because you must be alive to carry her home.”
The words pierced straight through me. I closed my eyes, inhaling the icy air. He was right. I couldn’t fail again.
“Fine,” I said hoarsely. “And Veskor is bigger than me, but smaller than both of you. But he is so fast.”
Canavar’s fangs flashed. “Perfect.”
It has been a long time, Varun said, studying the newcomers. It's been too long since I’ve seen more than one draken in the same place, let alone three who aren’t trying to tear each other apart.
Canavar snorted. “Give us time.”
Nasi elbowed him sharply. “Being mated helps. The unmated ones tend to be the troublemakers.”
Varun smiled faintly. For the lykoses, that was practically joy.
When your kind vanished, it worried us, he said. Drakens were volatile, but stabilizing. The world’s magick feels different without you. He nodded toward me. Seeing more of you finding each other again is a good sign. Many hoped your race wasn’t truly dying.
Nasi bowed his head slightly, respectful. “We were scattered. For too long.”
Varun’s eyes softened. Then it is good to see the pieces finding their way home.
Something tight twisted in my chest, something that had nothing to do with the cold. It was the same feeling I’d had watching the twins take their first breaths. Hope mixed with fear. Joy shadowed by responsibility.
Speaking of drakens, Varun said, turning toward me again, one of my scouts told me you had additions.
My breath puffed out in a cloud. “Yes, but not quite yet. Wren, Queen Wren, is due to give birth any day now.”
For a heartbeat, the frozen forest fell utterly still; even the wind seemed to pause.
Varun’s smile broke fully now, bright enough to rival firelight.
Good, Varun said warmly. Very good. You do not understand what this means for all of us. The drakens were not merely soldiers. They were balance. Pillars. Anchors in the ley lines. He shook his furry head. Send word once the child is born. We would like to honor the arrival.
I blinked. “Varun—you don’t have to—”
Oh, I do, he said. Be prepared. There will be gifts. Offerings. Tributes. Every magickal race in these lands will want to bless the first new full-blooded draken born since the fall. His smile sharpened.
I swallowed. Hard.
“You honor us,” I whispered.
It is your birthright, Varun corrected. Do not forget that again.
His gaze drifted to Canavar and Nasi.
And you two, Varun said. If you are truly drakens of Lyoness, then know this: the lykoses owe your kind blood-debts and lifetimes of loyalty. If you stand with Lyoness, Lyoness will never fall.
Canavar dipped his head. “We stand.”
Nasi added quietly, “And we will bring the little one home.”
Varun nodded once, satisfied. Then go. I’ll alert the northern clans. May the winds guide you cleanly.
With that, he bounded off into the snow, massive, white-furred, and regal—vanishing like a ghost, leaving the three of us standing alone beneath the frozen pines, united only by cold breath, a missing child, and a promise that none of us intended to break.
“Let’s find her,” I whispered.
Canavar’s wings spread wide. “Lead the way, sun-dragon.”
I gave him a playful shove at the mock insult, and for a moment, it felt like Kieran and Benedict were next to me, flying and laughing.
Brotherhood was important. It was good.
We launched into the sky again toward Veskor, toward Perri, and toward whatever waited in the far northern mountains.