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We landed on the beach, about half a mile from the village. The moment Yaggir’s clawed feet touched the sand, I hopped off his back and Quye shifted back into her fae form. The dragons also shifted, and my heart began to beat faster—all three of them were female, with hair that matched their scales. They were dressed in colorful short-sleeved crop tops and loose, flowing wrap skirts made of some kind of natural woven fiber, stylized flame tattoos on full display, eyes gleaming with distrust.
“Yaggir.” The purple-haired one stepped forward, a thunderous scowl on her face. She marched right up to the male and fisted her hand in the front of his shirt, bringing them nose to nose. “Tell me right now why I should not have your hide flayed and hung on the wall of my hut for turning your back on us.”
“First of all,” Yaggir said, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture, “my hide is far too big to fit on your wall. And second of all, you already know why I’m here, and why you should spare my life.”
“Yes, but your friends did not have the benefit of listening to our conversation.” The indigo-haired dragon approached Quye, her head tilted to the side as she examined her. “You are the seer, I presume,” she said, before turning to me. “Which makes you… the hybrid.”
I tried not to bristle at her tone. “I have a name,” I said evenly. “It’s Adara.”
“A veryfaename.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am Isador. The purple-haired one is Diyani, and my other sister is Rysla.”
Rysla folded her arms beneath her chest as she stared at me. “Yaggir told us you are Daryan’s daughter, but you barely look like him. How do we know Olette wasn’t tupping someone else at the same time they were together?”
“Because if she was, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” I said, then chucked a fireball at her, lightning-fast. Rysla’s eyes widened as she caught it, then tossed it from palm to palm, staring at it with great interest before snuffing it out.
“Your fire smells different,” she informed me.
I blinked at her. “It does?”
“Absolutely.” She rubbed the tip of her nose. “It’s a strange scent, one I can’t quite place, but it reminds me of winter.”
“Really?” Diyani released Yaggir and came over to me. “Show me,” she demanded.
Bemused, I lit a flame in my palm and held it out for her. She sniffed it, and her eyes widened as she looked toward her sisters. “Itdoessmell different.”
The three of them took turns sniffing for a moment, but we were interrupted by the arrival of several young children, who had spotted us from wherever they were playing. Isador intercepted them before they could get too close, and she herded them back toward the village, shooting glances at us over her shoulder along the way.
Clearly, we weren’t to be trusted around the children. Or at least, not yet.
“Come,” Diyani commanded, waving me forward. “We will bring you to Ylena, so you can deliver this letter and make your request for aid. Whether she will accept is another matter, especially given the company you keep.” She shot Yaggir a nasty look over her shoulder, then marched off, leaving us to follow.
“Is it just me,” Quye said in a low voice as we trudged through the sand, “or is her vendetta against Yaggir personal?”
“Diyani served alongside me and Einar in the army,” Yaggir explained in a heavy voice. “She and I were close once, and she has a strong bond with Ylena. She was heartbroken when I chose Myras’s side over theirs.”
“Heartbroken?” Diyani scoffed from up ahead. “Don’t make me laugh. I just get angry when I see trash littering the island.”
“Yup,” Quye said brightly. “Definitely personal.”
I elbowed her in the ribs. “Are you trying to get us killed?” I hissed.
“What?” Quye complained, rubbing the spot I’d struck. “I live for this kind of drama. Besides, they’re not going to kill us. We’re far too interesting for that.”
We entered the village, and my skin prickled with a strange combination of self-consciousness and excitement. Everywhere I looked, there were dragons of all ages and sizes—children playing in the streets, adults talking or doing chores. All of them turned to look at us as we passed, their curiosity turning to shock and fear as they beheld Quye and me, taking in pointed ears and fae coloring. My heart sank—I knew I couldn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms, but it would have been nice not to be viewed with suspicion, hostility, or fear. Aside from the ice fae at the Bala Oighr, my time at Usciete had taught me that my water fae family only saw me as a pawn to be played in their sordid game of chess. It was a little disheartening to realize that neither halves of my heritage might ever see past what I represented, and to the person who lay beneath it.
But then again, I didn’t come here to make friends. I came here to complete the ritual and get back to my world. Back to Einar, and the friends I already had, so I could save our home from Nox and her shadow cohort.
Isador rejoined our group, her face flushed with exertion. “I’ve informed Ylena of our visitors,” she told Diyani. “She is waiting in her hut for them.”
My heart beat faster as we stopped outside a hut located toward the edge of the village closest to the jungle. This one was bigger than all the rest, with a sturdy wooden frame and walls crafted of bamboo and palm fronds. The roof was thatched with palm leaves that sloped gently downward, and the entrance was marked by a wooden door, also woven with palm fronds, that hung on leather hinges. The door was flanked on either side by large, tropical flowers, their colors bright and striking against the hut’s earth tones, and more palm trees loomed from behind, casting welcome shade across the dwelling.
Diyani knocked on the door, and a female voice told her to enter. A frisson of nervous energy shot down my spine as she opened the door and we stepped over the threshold. The inside was shadowy and cool, with a fresh breeze from the ocean blowing in from the many open windows. A fearsome-looking spear tipped with a curved blade hung on the wall above the sitting area, the other walls adorned with woven baskets, seashells, and other small trinkets. Woven mats made of natural fibers covered the floors, and a large wooden table with a few chairs gathered around it dominated the center of the room. Toward the back was a curtained-off area that I surmised was Ylena’s private sleeping chambers.
My eyes zeroed in on the tall female standing by one of the windows, staring at the clear blue ocean lapping at the shoreline that lay a mere hundred yards away.
“Ylena,” Diyani said. “I have brought the visitors.”
Ylena turned from the window. She was as majestic as a dragon queen should be, with long, golden hair falling in waves down her back, save for the two sections along the sides of her scalp that had been braided away from her face. Tall and well-muscled, she wore a sleeveless garnet dress that gathered in tight below her bust before falling in a long curtain down to just above her ankles. A more delicate, feminine version of the gold cuff I wore on my bicep encircled her left wrist, the red primal stone catching the fiery sunset and throwing its rays against the far wall.
