When I received the mysterious letter, I knew immediately who it was from, even before I opened it. Maeve’s scent clung to the parchment, reminding me of the nights we’ve spent together, the way her breath feels on my skin, how her hair falls around us when she leans over me.
I’ve no idea where she’s taking me. But like I told her before, I trust her.
And it’s been many decades since someone last had a surprise for me.
As I walk, I tip my head back to admire the frost-laced branches and the way the snow glitters as it’s brushed from the trees by the wind. Somewhere far off, a crow calls, its voice breaking the peaceful silence.
There’s no question as to whether I’m headed in the right direction. My blood bond with Maeve accompanies me, guiding my every step as if it’s a hand on my back, pushing me subtly in the direction I wish to go.
Towardher. Always toward her.
Every step I take seems to draw me away from the carefully controlled life I’ve lived for so long and closer to something wilder, something uncontained.
Something very much like a storm.
The road bends between a tight cluster of low-hanging trees. A dusting of snow falls from one, catching in my hair,and I brush it away as I round the turn, to where four roads intersect.
I stop walking. My breath catches.
Maeve stands at the center of the crossroads, her long hair hanging loose around her shoulders, her dark cloak fluttering around her calves as the breeze catches it. Her cheeks are tinged pink from the cold, and her lips lift into a smile when she sees me.
But I can’t focus on her for long.
Because waiting behind her is something I never thought I would see again—not after the conflict that took the lives of so many.
A dragon.
Impossible.
It’s massive, with glossy black scales and eyes flecked with gold. Its wings are tucked against its body, and plumes of steam billow from its nostrils with each exhale in the cold air.
The dragon stares at me. I don’t move.
But Maeve does.
She walks toward me, light on her feet, not at all concerned with the creature lurking behind her. When she gets to me, she turns and gestures to the dragon with a flourish. “Severin, meet Raelan.”
The dragon blinks and exhales another plume of steam.
“Who,” I say very slowly, “is Raelan?”
“Alina’s fiancé. Future prince of Elarwyn. I’m sure you’ve seen him around Coven Crest; he’s the one who always looks on the verge of hurting someone.”
The futureprince?
Now I recall of whom she speaks. I have indeed seen thebodyguard who follows Her Highness through the halls, never more than a few steps behind her. But it is not common knowledge that he’s a dragon shifter. Though I can understand why that would be kept a secret.
Slowly, I shift my gaze to Maeve. “And Raelan is here because...?”
She smiles up at me, and the way the snow turns her eyes a vivid shade of violet almost takes my breath away. “He’s going to take us to the cottage.”
My brow furrows. “Cottage?”
Maeve reaches for my luggage bag, pulling it from my hand before I can stop her. “You’re asking too many questions. This is supposed to be a surprise, remember?”
I stay rooted to the spot as she carries my bag toward the dragon.Raelan.Seeing her so close to an apex predator makes me want to lunge forward and pull her away. My fangs ache, and my blood pumps hot and fast through my veins.
Raelan must scent the shift in me, for he meets my eyes with an expression I’m quite certain would be a smirk if he were wearing his human face.
