“All year? That’s not possible.” Not even waiting for his reply, I reach in, pluck one of the purple berries free, and shove it into my mouth. The familiar and rare taste bursts across my tongue, sour and sweet all at once, reminding me of snow and home as it clears some of the lingering fuzz from my head. “God, I used to steal these from the Innerland markets any chance I got.”
We keep walking, and I keep eating. Another. Then another, because the taste is exactly as I remember. Maybe better. They only showed up for a few short weeks in winter, and even then, the supply was limited. Growing wild in the Northern Peaks, in dragon country, most foragers didn’t bother; between the altitude and the fire-breathing death, the risk far outweighed the profit.
Still half-lost in the memory, I reach back into the packet for more, only to blink down and find it almost empty. Leaning over, I offer him the last one.
“Oh, no thanks.” Lifting a hand, he shakes his head. “One bite, and I’m on the floor. Deathly allergic. Minutes, at most.” I pause, the purple berry still resting in my palm. “Only Lucien knows. I carry a remedy—a small glass vial, it’s always in my pocket. But for those who know it’s easy to find, easy to take. So if someone decided they didn’t like what they saw… heard.” Pausing, he slides his hand back into his pocket. “It wouldn’t take much.”
His admission comes out so easily, so casually, but the berry feels strangely heavy in my hand, and a flicker of unease slides through me.
For a few steps I think about keeping it, insurance for when everything he’s muted crashes back in tomorrow. I know I’ll want him to pay. To hurt, for what he did. But the thought of him dead?—
Talen doesn’t look away, doesn’t reach for it. Instead he holds my gaze as I turn the small purple berry once between my fingers—then bring it to my mouth and eat it.
For a while, we continue strolling in silence, then he pivots and angles us away from the tents toward an open clearing, where the Southern Peaks rise dark against the moonlight beyond.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Talen doesn’t answer, just smiles—that quiet, unreadable crooked smile of his—and keeps going.
My pace, however, slows as a large shape shifts in the shadows ahead.
Squinting through the darkness, a shiver runs down my spine, and my heart kicks hard against my ribs like it knows before I do what’s coming.
Then I see her, standing bathed in a silver wash, graceful, almost ethereal, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
She’s... she’s beautiful.
Not in any way I can explain—she just is. And more than that, she’s familiar in a way that makes my soul lean forward, like I’ve known her forever and each step closer feels like gravity pulling me in.
“Lyra,” Talen says gently as he stops and turns toward me. “I want to introduce you to Ahria.” My whole body goes still. “She’s?—”
“My dragon…” The words leave me before I can stop them.
And something inside me clicks.
Not loud. Not dramatic. But... right. Like a bone sliding back into place after years of grinding wrong. A silent, aching gap I never knew existed sealing over.
Mine.
For one suspended breath, the world narrows to her.
Dark green scales cover her in overlapping plates, fitted tight as armour. And then those eyes—glowing, rimmed in violet—lock on to me like they did in my dreams. Like they never stopped watching.
Taking a step toward her, I lift my hand, reaching out, but her expression changes. Her nostrils flare, her lips pull back, and teeth flash in the silver light.
Then her throat glows.
There’s no time to move.
Fire erupts from her jaws, heat slamming into me as the world around us detonates white-hot.
CHAPTER THREE
TALEN’S POV
Every muscle in my body moves before thought can catch them as I step between Ahria and Lyra. With my arms outstretched, my magic snaps outward, unfurling loose around me. Air answers immediately—slamming into place a heartbeat before the flames collide with us.
The impact is brutal. Heat crashes into my shield, jarring my arms to the shoulders and nearly tearing my footing out from under me, but I drag the air in harder, compressing it until it screams in my ears, thicker and tighter, forcing the flames to bend into the dark around us instead of through us.
