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A sharp inhalation came from Amy.
Gia whipped her head around, rolling to her knees.
But fear gave the woman wings and Amy twisted to a crouch, eyes on Sorin as she started scuttling back in an awkward, crab-like walk.
“Wyn...come here,” she said in a near soundless whisper.
“The boy’s fine,” Sorin said, sounding annoyed. “He’s doing far better than you.”
Amy didn’t seem to hear him. “Wyn.”
Wyn rose with a weary sigh.
Sorin looked at him. Wyn’s eyes widened, his throat working as he swallowed. Without saying a word, he sank back down.
A broken sob escaped his mother and she jerked her gaze to Sorin, fear turning rabid as shock and speculation began to ferment into a noxious brew. “What did you do to my son?”
“Nothing.” Sorin frowned and looked around. “As a matter of fact, I’ve barely spoken to him. This woman here? Well, she saved him. Likely saved you. I imagine she’s done more for the both of you in a few days than you’ve done for yourself or the boy your entire life.”
Gia pinched the bridge of her nose when Amy flinched.
“It’s not my fault I’m not strong!”
A deep bass rumble emanated from Sorin’s chest and his impossibly golden eyes glowed as he leaned forward. “Strange. I thought you were the one leading a Fae witch to her death. Or did I misinterpret how the two of you and this child came to be out here on a mountaintop with bigoted hatemongers?”
Amy’s body tightened, her eyes slanting toward Gia’s for a fraction of a second.
“Do not look at her. She isn’t going to answer for you.”
Gia lifted a brow at Sorin, his arrogance irritating her. But since he wasn’t wrong, she stayed silent. Amy might not be the sort who’d charge head-first into conflict, but she had more strength than she wanted to admit.
“They had my son,” Amy bit off.
“Of course.” Sorin waved a dismissive hand in the air. “A mother will do much to protect her child. Although I’m not sure where you found the courage to stand there and growl at a dragon who’d just as soon leave you on this mountain to die as look at you. Your life means nothing to me, which I suspect you know...but you’re taking me on. Truly the act of a spineless coward.”
The hot flush of color painting Amy’s cheeks drained away, leaving her a sick, sallow shade.
“Stop scaring her, dragon,” Gia said.
He continued to stare at the other woman for long moments.
Gia heard Amy’s breathing stutter, heard her heart quicken with fear. Rising, Gia stepped between them, cutting the human off from the dragon’s view. “Are you having fun bullying her?”
His lids lowered, shielding the burnished gold of his eyes for long seconds.
When he looked back at her, the glow had faded and he looked about as human as he likely capable of. He smiled, his cheeks creasing as the grooves bracketing his mouth deepened. “No. I’d rather trade words with you anyway. You don’t seem to know what fear is.”
She sniffed. “Of course I do. But I don’t waste my time being afraid of arrogant males simply because they are powerful and arrogant—I am half Fae. Underhill spoon feeds our kind with arrogance and power—some all but choke on their own arrogance while they are still in swaddling clothes.”
A whisper of awareness traced down her spine with those words and she went still, head cocked. But the power reaching out to her didn’t speak in a way she’d could hear in the normal sense.
The connection that bound her to Underhill, the sanctuary and home to so many Fae, pulsed within and she opened her mind. Underhill was a conundrum, a physical place that existed in reality, although it was far more than that—she was far more, because Underhill wasn’t just a place. She was sentient and could act in ways to protect those she favored—as well as the opposite.
Gia had only ever had rare contact with Underhill, but like most Fae, she recognized the being’s presence instinctively.
So when she opened her mind and Underhill reached out, the emotion came through loud and clear.
“We are grateful to the dragon.”
