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AURDYN
When morning comes, the seamstress arrives to fit Freyja for new clothing. I am glad she will no longer have to wear the items gifted her by the Dwarves. Now, there will be nothing masking her distinct scent that even now calls to the primal part of me that longs to claim her.
Because of the bond, my entire body is already attuned to hers, instinctively drawn to she who would be my mate.
But I dare not tell her this because I know it bothers her. She doubts me, worried that my desire for her is an effect of our fated connection.
When she emerges from her rooms, my breath catches in my throat. Her new emerald-green tunic and pants and matching gray boots set off the fiery color of her vibrant red hair. As her ice-blue eyes meet mine, a low growl builds deep within.
The desire to challenge her in the mating battle roars through my veins. Clenching my jaw, my nostrils flare as need burns through me like liquid fire. She is mine even if she does not realize it yet. I will conquer her and claim her as my mate and make her my queen.
I have gifted her a nest that any Dragon female would envy, and now I will prove that I am worthy to be hers.
After we eat breakfast,I lead Freyja back to the temple. High Priest Arkon is already waiting for us. He bows low as we approach. “Greetings, my King.” He turns to my T’kara. “It is agreeable to see you again so soon, Princess Freyja.”
“And you as well,” she replies formally.
I do not ask how he knew we were coming because I learned long ago not to question such things. He is as mysterious as he is wise.
“Come.” He motions for us to follow him to the center of the temple. “I am eager to assess your bond.”
We stand beneath the tree. Its silver-white leaves fall steadily all around us, dancing and whirling on the cool breeze, tangling in Freyja’s long, silken hair.
Arkon places his hand on the trunk, and Freyja’s jaw drops as the wood begins to glow with a soft silver light. “Magic,” she whispers.
The High Priest nods. “This tree was grown from a seed of the very first heart tree created by the Fae and their magic. It was gifted to our very first king from their own. A token and a reminder of the peace they each promised to uphold among our people.”
I clench my jaw as I think of the Fae. King Kyven grates on my nerves to no end. If not for the blood promise, first bound in this tree by our ancestors, I would have been tempted to make good on my threat to singe his perfect silver-white hair and burn his castle to the ground the last time we met.
“Each of you must rest one hand on the tree as well,” he instructs. “It will help me to assess the bond between you.”
As soon as we touch the tree, there is a loud rush of sound like water spilling violently over a fall before everything goes silent. The world disappears, fading away into bright light. Suddenly, we are standing in a temple, similar to this one, but much larger, with a heart tree in the center.
Silver light spirals up and through the branches and into the veins of the delicate leaves. It is so beautiful it is almost blinding. I turn my head and find Freyja beside me, wearing a crown. She takes my hand and the same fire that burns in my chest flows through her veins.
A faintly glowing thread of light winds around our joined hands, binding us together. Her eyes meet mine and I can see my entire future in their mesmerizing depths.
A fledging appears before us. He has silver-white scales and hair like mine, but when he turns to me, my breath catches when I see they are ice-blue, like Freyja’s.
The vision fades and then morphs into a fully grown Dragon with the same blue eyes, but his back and the top of his head are covered with muted crimson scales. When he spreads his wings, the underside, just like his face, chest, and abdomen are silver-white.
“Who are you?” I ask, stepping toward him. “Tell me your name.”
But he doesn’t respond. It is as if he is frozen in place. I move closer, but a voice stops me in my tracks. “He is your son,” a voice whispers in my head. “The one born of the sanishon—your T’kara. Tell no one of your vision, Dragon King.”
“Why?”
“This is but a glimpse of what could be,” it replies. “The future is not set, and you would risk losing that which you desire above all else.”
“Why show this to me then?” I ask, glancing around, searching for the person behind the disembodied voice. “Who are you?”
“I am the spirit of the heart tree,” it replies. “You came to me for answers, and I have given you what you need to guide your path.” It pauses. “Now, go back. Go back and fight for the future I have shown you.”
“My son,” I murmur in disbelief as I turn back to the image of the red and white Dragon.
A son.A smile crests my lips as joy brighter than a thousand stars floods my veins.We will have a son.
CHAPTER33
