Chapter Eight

I can’t do this.

The plan was to reach every mirror in Ararat to address as many of the Black Clan dragons as she could in one shot. Pytheios’s floating flame trick at her mating ceremony had given her the idea.

But this was… After the first ten or so, with each mirror she reached, a shard of pain split through her mind, as though the mirrors were splitting her with each new reflection. Like she had to donate a part of her soul to gain that reflection. Was this what Kasia had gone through with her own migraines with each vision before she’d mated?

“Meira?” Samael’s voice came at her from a hundred different directions.

She slapped her hands over her ears, closing her eyes, even as she tried not to lose the connections she’d already made.

“Talk to me, Meira. What’s happening?” Urgency underlined the dark tones of his voice and hovered around her own emotions. As well as command, the captain of a king’s guard showing through.

“It’s…too much,” she said.

“Stop.”

Vaguely she was conscious of the squeak of the kitten as he swung in front of her, trying to force her to open her eyes and look at him, hands on her arms, steadying and compelling at the same time.

“Stop, Mir.” If she hadn’t been fixated on the pain and the power, she might’ve paid more attention to his use of her childhood nickname her sisters sometimes still used and the slight tinge of panic brushing against her emotions.

Samael didn’t panic. She knew him well enough to know that for certain.

“No,” she mumbled. “I can do this.”

Silence greeted that. Had he heard?

“What do you need?” he finally asked in a voice gone dragon.

Her mind managed to break away from the pain enough to latch on to that question. What did she need? More of herself? No, that didn’t make sense given how she’d done this on a smaller scale. She wasn’t splitting her soul to teleport the way she did, no matter what this felt like.

So, what was she doing?

“Fire.” She wasn’t sure if she said the word aloud. Didn’t matter. She needed more fire. More power. Maybe if she could get to her sisters—

Suddenly the searing agony in her mind eased under an unexpected onslaught of heat. Perhaps merely thinking of her fire had stoked the inferno inside her? The hundreds of connection points grew less painful with each passing moment until she was able to drop her hands and open her eyes.

Oh. My. Heavens.

The fire wasn’t coming from her, but from Samael. He stood before her, ablaze in flames of pure black sparking silver at the tips.

Living, dancing, beautiful death.

Eyes consumed by the inferno, he focused solely on her in a way that turned her insides liquid, melting her, feeding her his fire, turning her own red-gold flames blacker with each passing second, as if his power consumed hers.

A gasp threatened to escape her, but Samael covered her mouth with his hand. “Let’s not risk my fire getting inside you.”

In other words, let’s not risk an accidental mating, if such a thing was possible without the sex.

A shard of hurt, not from the use of her powers, embedded in her chest. Why? Because he didn’t want to mate her? Why would he? She belonged to his king. No matter what she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes earlier.

Even so, she couldn’t rid herself of the sensation it left inside her. Emptiness. Like the time they’d had to abandon their home and her mother made her leave her favorite toy behind.

Abandoned.

“Is it working?”

His question jerked her back to the task at hand. Gods, what am I doing? She forced her concentration to her powers alone and the task she’d set herself to complete. “I think so.”

All those connections sliced and pulled at her. A glance over his shoulder showed her tiny images across the mirror, like a thousand picture-in-picture screens. Concentrating, Meira used the power coursing through her, making her fingertips tingle. The points of connection came easier now, as though she simply had to sift through the mountain to find each one and add it to her display.

“I’ve got them all,” she said when she could feel no more within the mountain.

Even through the flames she could see his eyebrows go up. “All of them?”

“Yes, but let’s not test how long we can do this.” She waved at him to step to her side.

The kitten weaved around his feet but remained close. Once he stood beside her, she took a deep breath and made it so those on the other end of the connections could see. Gods knew what the clan would think about Samael feeding her his fire like this, but they’d have to risk it.

Now for the worst part. Public speaking.

“Dragon shifters of the Black Clan,” Samael boomed beside her.

In the tiny reflections, those who already hadn’t turned to look did so now, expressions reflecting a hundred different reactions—mistrust, hate, curiosity, horror, hope. No sense of emotions bombarded her though, not through the reflection. At least she didn’t have that extra chaos to contend with.

Meira held on to the hope.

“You know me. I am Samael Veles. You have heard from Pytheios, the false High King,” Samael continued. “Now it’s our queen’s turn.”

Shouts rose from the mirror. “She is not our queen,” they said, or various versions of the same.

Meira held on to the solid determination radiating from the man at her side and put on that mask of confidence she’d known she’d have to wear the day she offered to mate a king. She tipped up her chin the way she’d seen Kasia and Skylar do a thousand times. “Your king still lives.”

“Liar!” came the louder response from the collective.

She hid a flinch. “The man who died in my fire was a red dragon bewitched to look like Gorgon. We are searching for our king now.”

Those who fell among the angrier of the clan continued to shout, but others quieted, listening. She said the words Sam had told her to use.

“Gorgon’s most loyal protector stands at my side. Gorgon is my mate in words, and when I find him, we will be mated in deed.”

She tried not to pay attention to the doubts wanting to take the strength of conviction away from that declaration. Or the sudden fracture of denial coming from the man at her side.

“Pytheios claims to have a phoenix, and he may have. That does not mean my sisters and I are not also phoenixes. I want only peace for both my phoenix family and for my new dragon family. Will you help me?”

He’d warned her not to beg, not to ask, but to command. But the question slipped from her lips naturally.

Deciding not to take them back, she let the words drop into what had become a void of silence and blank faces.

Beside her Samael stood unnervingly still, shoulders held back, all warrior. “I will stand by our queen as King Gorgon would want,” he said. “He would want you to do so as well.”

They gave it another few moments to sink in.

“If you have any information, or wish to help us in this search,” Meira said, “please get in touch with the Blue or Gold Clans. My sisters will know how to reach us at all times.”

Defeat stared at her from a thousand reflections, clawing at her. This wasn’t working. She still wasn’t getting through to most of them. The hostility reflected at her, despite the mirrors blocking her empathic powers, faces bearing scowls or narrow-eyed suspicion or outright hatred, told her so.

Meira swallowed and stepped forward, though Samael held on to her hand. Forget not begging. It might be beneath dragons, but it wasn’t beneath her. “Please. Gorgon has been honorable and nothing but a friend. For his sake, please help me.”

A blast of sound boomed overhead, the reverberations of it hitting her like a physical punch, and the house shook with the impact. Something massive had struck, knocking the ceiling fan to the floor, the popcorn ceiling shaking loose and cascading over them in a fall of white.

In the same instant, Samael tackled her to the floor, covering her with his body. He grunted as the ceiling fan broke free and landed on his back before falling into the mirror and shattering the glass.

Meira lost her connections, her fire extinguished by a fear that stole her breath and her mind. Pytheios.

“He’s come for me.” The child who’d always lived in terror, never fully gone even as she’d grown into a woman, whimpered. With grasping hands, she practically tried to burrow into Samael’s chest.

“It’s not Pytheios.”

Panic tossed reason out the window as she scrambled against him, shaking so hard her teeth rattled in her head. “He’s going to kill you and try to mate me and—”

Samael shook her by the arms. “It’s not Pytheios.”

“What?”

“By the scent, I’d say gold dragon. Waiting for you or one of your sisters to show would be my guess.”

Samael’s total calm reached to an answering part deep inside her, like a balm, a rock on the rapids she could cling to. With a deep, shuddering breath, she lifted her head, focusing on his eyes, his gaze intent and steady. “We need to get out of here,” she said.

“I agree—”

The house howled and splintered as the creature outside ripped the roof off faster than a Kansas twister.

Samael was on his feet, the floating mirage of his shift eddying around his form before the roof had even cracked. Instinct kicked in, and Meira lit her fire and jumped to her feet.

“Let’s go!” She grabbed him by the hand before he could finish his shift and dragged him away. She jerked to a stop as he lunged for the kitten, scooping it into one big hand. Then, without question, he ran after her into her mother’s bathroom and through the mirror hanging on the back of the door. They emerged in a cavern that reminded her of Ben Nevis.

A hangar of sorts, with a gaping hole open to blue skies and mountain peaks beyond. Only no dragon-steel door to shut out the world and protect them.

The roar that followed them had Meira spinning back to what they’d come through, a glass partition separating the hangar from another room—no doubt a control room of sorts. Abandoned and dark. With a yelp as a golden eye peered at her through the reflection, Meira shut off her powers, the fire leaching from her skin in an instant.

The fear didn’t disappear with the flames, though, even as she gaped at the glass and the room beyond. She grabbed for Samael, only to have him shove the kitten in her hands and back away.

“Stay there,” he warned, backing away into the center of what appeared to be a massive foyer. His body continued to shimmer and waver with signs of an oncoming shift.

“What are you doing?” she called, though she remained where she against the wall, with no place else to go.

“My dragon is already close to the surface with you,” Samael called back. He glittered with obsidian scales, his body warping and stretching to accommodate his larger size. “That was…too much—”

He threw his head back on a primal roar that made the glass beside her ripple. Holding still, as though he were a T. rex and wouldn’t see her if she did, Meira waited out the rest of his shift. An incredible process as human features broadened and lengthened, vicious spikes emerged along his back, and a tail whipped out behind him. Finally, wings unfurled thirty-five feet on either side of him.

Black dragons were sleeker than blue or gold dragons, everything about them built for stealth—wings attaching differently, spikes lying flat differently. Even their scales were smaller and layered so that they could seal up, cutting wind resistance.

Samael, in full dragon form, was the most brutally magnificent creature she’d ever beheld.

The dragon fell to his forefeet in total silence and craned his neck to size her up from a single massive eye on one side of his head.

Meira watched him closely. In theory, this was still Samael. Her mind knew he wouldn’t hurt her. The reality was a different experience. “You’re not going to use me as a human toothpick or anything, right?”

She wasn’t entirely sure the question was teasing, either.

She didn’t have time to process shock as he plucked her from the spot she stood with claws she was fully aware could rend her into tiny pieces. He gently placed her on the ground, then curled around her in a circle, going so far as to drape a single wing overhead while his snout ended up directly in front of her. Warmth cocooned her from every direction.

He’s protecting me.

Slowly, Meira reached out and ran a hand over one of the scales, fascinated by the glasslike appearance. Obsidian, yet strangely softer.

He growled at her touch, though the sound was more of a purr.

“I’m safe,” she said quietly.

At least, she hoped she was. She still wasn’t sure exactly where she’d brought them.

…

It took a while—the protectiveness his dragon side held toward Meira meant it didn’t want to cede control to the weaker human side—but Samael managed to wrest it back. That was the closest he’d ever come to losing himself to the animal. Even his first shift had gone smoother.

Meira watched in silence until he finished his shift. Then her eyebrows rose slowly. “I was worried I was about to be a snack earlier.”

“I would never hurt you.” The words left his mouth before he thought about them.

“I know.”

“How do you know that?” He could have killed her.

“Call it instinct.” She glanced away, pulling into herself and away from him.

Instinct. Right. Did she know what she was admitting? That instinct drove her to a faith in him that was beyond reason. Couldn’t she see the danger of trusting that or, worse, what that might mean?

Samael lifted one hand then dropped it back to his side before she saw. Now wasn’t the time or place to discuss it. “Where did you bring us?”

“I don’t know.” Her expression turned so rueful, if his own protective instincts weren’t screaming at him, he’d have laughed.

Instead, he glanced around, dread sinking through his bones. This was a dragon mountain, no doubt about it.

The natural caverns had been hollowed out more. Though slightly smaller, the space was like the training area in Ben Nevis and Ararat with its tall ceilings and flat floor, obviously created for the purpose of easy landings, an entrance large enough for a 747 to fly through. Or one extra-large dragon. At least one hallway no doubt led deeper into the mountain, though several doors were placed along the walls.

“Do you have a guess at least?” he asked.

“I would love to hear this myself,” a familiar male voice sounded from behind him.

Pissed his focus on Meira had allowed anyone to come close without his knowledge, Samael swung around with a snarl that he cut off midsound as soon as he saw the owner of the voice. “Rune?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Veles?”

“Rune?” Meira asked, breaking into what was already heading toward an awkward reunion as she glanced back and forth between them. “Rune Abaddon?”

Now how the fuck did she know that name?

Dark eyes not unlike his own slid to the woman at Samael’s side, glittering with a hard sort of curiosity, and Samael had to stop himself from stepping between them. “You know me?” Rune asked.

“My name is Meira Amon.”

The black dragon shifter who’d been labeled a traitor for years narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

“You helped my sister Skylar.” Meira started forward, but Samael stepped in front of her. Only to get smacked on the shoulder for the effort. “Stop that. He’s not going to hurt me. My mother trusted him.”

The fact that she dared to hit him, even just that tiny tap, made him pause, but it was her words that pulled him up sharply. “Trusted him?”

Meira’s eyes narrowed, turning icy white. “Why the disbelief?” she asked, voice uncharacteristically cool.

“Because I know this man better than you do.” Once a reliable member of his clan, a respected warrior, Rune had gone rogue and had been stealing mates for a decade, at least.

“Obviously not anymore,” Rune said drily.

Rather than question him, though, Meira shot Rune a glance filling quickly with doubts. “How do you know him?” she asked Samael slowly.

A show of faith. In him. Despite her mother’s trust and her sister’s situation, whatever that had been.

“Rune was captain of the guard when I first joined. Before he left to become an enforcer, upholding the laws of the clans in the Americas colonies.”

“He was a scrawny rookie with more brains than brawn last time I saw him,” Rune commented, his calculating gaze turning wryly amused.

Samael cursed his luck. Of all the dragon shifters in the world, she brought them to this one.

Meira’s white-blue eyes darkened, her brows drawing down in a slight frown as she gave the man an unimpressed stare that would give his old mentor a run for his surly money. “Clearly you don’t know him now, either,” she pointed out, about as irritated as Samael had ever heard her get.

Then her eyes flared wide and she flicked a quick glance at Samael, and he had to tamp down on a ridiculous grin because he could easily read her thoughts. Where had that outspoken side of her come from? The woman he’d been around the last three months would never have spoken back to Rune that way.

For him.

His phoenix was changing, finding her own voice, almost before his very eyes.

Meanwhile, Rune, whom he remembered as being an emotionless bastard, shifted on his feet. Only slightly, but Samael caught it and struggled between shock at her defense of him and another arrow of ill-timed amusement at Rune’s discomfort.

Given how hard Rune had pushed Samael those few years they’d worked together, their relationship had been contentious to say the least. An odd combination of respect and dread on Samael’s part. Seeing his old mentor put on the back foot by Meira was worth all the mishaps that had brought them here.

“Why do you have a kitten?” Rune asked, almost idly.

Samael ignored the red herring and skipped to the bad part. “Rune steals mates.”

Meira shook her head, cuddling the tiny cat closer to her breast, as though worried the black dragon shifter would rip it away from her and kick the thing out. “There I know you’re wrong. He protects them. Skylar told me.”

Samael swung his gaze to the man, watching with narrowed eyes. Rune gave a lazy shrug, basically saying they could believe it or not. He didn’t care.

“Why are you here?” Rune drawled, clearly having run out of patience with the conversation.

Meira visibly paused at the question, then turned to Samael as though he’d been the one to ask it. “I guess I was thinking of safe places my mother sent us. Maul’s no longer in Alaska, and the wolves are with Angelika in Ben Nevis. But my uncle is…”

Realization parted her lips in a silent gasp before she jerked her gaze to Rune. “Is my uncle here? Can I see him?”

The traitor who apparently might not be a traitor glanced between them, then shook his head. “Why me?” he said, more to himself. Then turned and walked away. “Follow me.”

Hell. They had no choice.

Meira raised her eyebrows in question to Samael, who waved her ahead. They followed Rune down a long, dark corridor. Everywhere around him was the sound of water, a constant drip, drip, drip, like the snow and ice on the towering peaks outside seeped inside the mountains to melt and weep through the walls.

Apparently here they used old-fashioned torches set into sconces to light the main corridors. They passed several corridors that weren’t lit, the scents of darkness, decay and fallen rock telling Samael that those sections hadn’t been used in a long time and were no longer safe, prone to cave-ins.

Which was Samael’s first clue as to which mountain they’d landed in.

No one, not even Gorgon, had known where the mate stealer hid himself and the women he took. Though, to be honest, the king had been focused on problems closer to home. Maybe they should have been giving the colonies a little more attention. If they had, perhaps the answer to Rune Abaddon’s location would’ve been more obvious.

The Andes.

Clearly, the man had taken over the old, abandoned enforcer base deep in the Andes Mountains in Argentina, one of several that had been located on the South American continent at one time. Thanks to a treaty with other shifters in this region of the world, the previous High King Hanyu—Meira’s grandfather, in fact—had agreed to abandon South America and leave it for the indigenous supernaturals in exchange for their help identifying dragon mates in the region and sending them to the clans.

Pytheios apparently hadn’t seen any reason to break that treaty. Or had been too busy keeping his crown. Either way, it had been smart of Rune to hide here. Samael wondered how he’d located the place but didn’t ask.

After several twists and turns, Rune led them past a large room full of monitors, one similar to a room in Ararat, used for monitoring the mountain security along with any indications of dragon shifters in the region.

They didn’t stop there, though. Instead they continued on to a dragon-steel door, which stood slightly open.

Samael grabbed Meira by the wrist, pulling her slightly behind him. “No way in the seven hells am I letting her walk into dungeons.”

Rune turned slowly, eyebrow raised. “These aren’t dungeons.”

“Meira?”

She jerked against Samael’s grasp as an older man appeared in the doorway. Tall and lanky, he wore his stark white hair cut short in a flat-top, military style. White eyes gazed out from a wizened face. A gaze that zeroed in on the woman at Samael’s side.

“Uncle Tyrek?” No mistaking the curious hope in her voice.

The man walked forward and took Meira’s face in his hands. A growl slipped from Samael’s lips, which earned him a sideways glance of warning, only to then be ignored. Not exactly what he was used to. As captain of the king’s guard, people tended to get the fuck out of his way.

“Skylar looked like your phoenix grandmother, with her black hair, but I see your father and your grandfather in you,” the man said to Meira.

She smiled softly and flipped a curl. “I’m the mutt.”

Samael had to swallow another growl at the derogatory word. He didn’t like anyone disparaging Meira. Not even Meira.

“The red dragon genes come through a bit,” she said. “Mama always said I was Dad but with the mix of all our bloodlines. Kasia’s a true redhead with our grandfather’s blood in her veins. Angelika is all Dad, white dragon with white hair. But I’m a mix.”

“Holy shit,” Rune muttered to himself. “Four of you?”

“Maybe,” Meira answered vaguely. And Samael found himself choking back an unexpected laugh.

Rune’s jaw clenched. Tyrek didn’t appear surprised in the least.

Comparing Meira to the man who was supposedly Zilant Amon’s brother, Samael had to admit to the resemblance. Meira was a softer version, her high cheekbones less angular, jaw not as sharp, but the same winged eyebrows, same catlike shape to her eyes.

Speaking of her sisters, however, reminded him. This wasn’t a family reunion.

Samael cleared his throat. “Angelika and Skylar will be frantic.”

Meira gasped. “Oh heavens.” She turned to her uncle. “Is there someone who might take this little girl?” She held out the kitten, who’d stayed still and quiet this entire time. “And I need a mirror. One positioned so that it will not hint as to where I am.”

No doubt to protect Tyrek and the people shielding him—traitors or not—more than herself. More strays to take in like the cat her uncle was eyeing with concern. Terrific.

Without a quibble, Tyrek looked to Rune. The two men silently debated, possibly shifting a small part of their bodies so they could telepathically discuss. Then Rune grunted, took the kitten, and handed it to one of his men. “Take it to the common room.” He shot a look at Samael and Meira. “This way.”

He led them back through the twisting maze of the mountain home and down another endless corridor until it dead-ended. He reached for the last door on the left. “No one uses this suite,” he said. “There’s a mirror in the bathroom.”

Meira paused beside her uncle. “You might want to listen in on this.”

Tyrek raised his eyebrows at Rune, who gave them both a flat-lipped glare. “I’d like to be in on it, too.”

Samael stepped between her and Rune. “Fine. But you don’t come near her and stay the fuck out of line of sight.”

“Dragons,” Meira grumbled behind him, then gently pushed him out of her way. “If my uncle trusts this man, and Skylar trusts him, then so do I, and my other sisters should, too.”

Knowing Skylar, given how long they’d been kept waiting, she might be burning down Ararat by now, trying to find Meira.

Before any of the men in the room could protest or question, Meira stepped before the mirror and did her thing.

“I’m here,” she called out even as the image was changing.

“Fuck me, that’s a handy trick,” Rune said under his breath.

Samael shot him a cautionary glare.

Immediately, Angelika’s and Skylar’s faces appeared in the reflection. “About damn time,” Skylar snapped, her white-blue eyes practically shooting sparks.

“Sorry.” Meira compulsively reached for the mirror as though she could touch her sister, then stopped and slowly lowered her hand. “We ran into…complications.”

“What kind of complications?” Skylar demanded.

“A gold dragon was waiting for us at our old home.”

Silence greeted that.

“You went home?” Angelika asked quietly.

Meira nodded. “Someone ransacked the place, and now it’s missing the roof.”

“Did you recognize the dragon, Samael?” a male voice called a second before Ladon stepped into view.

Samael glanced at the woman beside him. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her this yet. “Hard to be sure in dragon form, but I’m pretty sure the dragon was Brock Hagan.”

Meira whipped her head around, and he sent her an apologetic glance. They hadn’t exactly had time to discuss.

“Fuck.” Ladon groaned and ran a hand over his jaw.

Samael’s thoughts exactly. “Please inform Brand.”

The blue king gave a single nod. Brock was a direct threat to the gold throne, the son of the previous king, Uther, whom Brand had killed. They’d been pretty damn sure Brock was dead, too, killed in a fight for Ben Nevis.

If they were wrong, they had a big problem. Especially if Pytheios was involved. Given where Brock had shown up, a place only the rotting king had known about, that was a pretty damn good bet.

Meira continued to glare his direction, and Samael grimaced. “Sorry. We landed here and then dealt with this asshole—” He hooked a thumb at Rune.

“Is someone else there with you?” Skylar demanded.

“We ended up in a safe place with our uncle,” Meira acknowledged. “I thought he and the man he hides with should hear this. They’re here with us, though, listening.”

After a silent beat, Skylar flashed a grin. “Give the old man a hug from me.”

“My hearing is still as sharp as ever,” Tyrek answered for himself, voice desert dry.

Skylar’s grin widened. “And if the men who I think you’re with are there, tell the red and black dragons they still owe me.”

Rune’s flat expression didn’t change a hair, though he was likely the black dragon who owed her. Samael had no idea whom the red dragon Skylar referenced might be.

“I’m pretty sure helping me is about to cancel that out,” Meira said slowly. “And we don’t have much time. I’ve used my powers too much today already delivering our message to the black clan.”

Every person on both sides of the mirror snapped to attention.

Samael stepped closer, studying her, taking in the slight tremble to her hands. Dammit. Why hadn’t she told him she was weakening?

Quickly, Meira filled them all in on what had transpired the last two days. Then Skylar did the same, Angelika smartly remaining quiet.

The situation was worse than Samael expected. His clan had gone radio silent, those in direct attendance at the mating already having left Ben Nevis, presumably for Ararat.

Brand’s tenuous hold on the Gold Clan was showing, thanks to his not growing up in the clan and spending most of his life rogue. His numbers were dwindling daily, either languishing in his already overflowing dungeons or having left, likely to join other clans. Or perhaps join Brock, if any knew he still lived.

Ladon wasn’t in as bad shape, having been chosen by the people he’d grown up with to overthrow the previous king. His clan already trusted him implicitly.

Pytheios’s propaganda stunt at the mating ceremony had inflicted the damage the High King had intended.

Which reminded Samael that he needed to get in direct contact with his beta after this. The contact with the clan hadn’t been enough. That much was clear.

“Even people in the colonies got that message,” Rune informed them.

“What are your thoughts?” Samael asked. His gaze told his old captain that he’d better answer wisely.

Rune shrugged. “I’d say it’s pretty obvious my men and I don’t trust the current regime.”

So a rogue—a man who swore no allegiance to a clan and therefore would typically be hunted down and killed—was on their side. Great.

“Who is this other phoenix?” Skylar said. “That’s what I want to know.”

Rune turned his stare on Tyrek.

Meira’s uncle didn’t acknowledge him. He did, however, take a step forward. “I’m afraid I can’t help answer that.”

“Did you know all our names?” Meira asked. An obvious question, but one Samael hadn’t thought of.

“No.” Tyrek swallowed. “When your mother got in touch years ago to set me up as a safe haven for Skylar in the event of Serefina meeting a violent death, she only told me about Skylar. She implied more children, but not how many or any other names. I eventually heard about you. Whispers, mostly.”

What was Pytheios’s play here? Samael couldn’t see it yet.

Everyone absorbed that information in silence.

“If this woman is a phoenix, she may not be our sister, but she’s our kind,” Meira said. “We have to help her. We can’t leave her with that monster.”

Skylar glanced off to the side, likely at Angelika or Ladon. “Agreed.”

“First, we must find my king,” Samael said, already hating the idea forming in his head, one that had a lot to do with strategy Meira had already gotten him to agree to. “If you’re going inside Everest on a rescue mission for this woman, you need all the clans behind you that you can get.”

Every protective instinct bucked against the suggestion, reactions so complicated he couldn’t untangle them. His job was to keep her safe, dammit. But this was Meira. He might not like the way her need to help those around her led her straight to trouble, but he was beginning to understand that the beauty of her soul was her heart. She had to protect the world. He had to protect her. Not even a choice.

He looked at Meira, who regarded him with an emotion he couldn’t quite pin down. Something uncomfortably close to gratitude. Not the emotion he wanted from her, but maybe the one he’d have to settle for.

“What’s the plan?” She put the question to Samael, not turning her gaze away.

“Like you said. If Gorgon is alive, the most likely place is—”

“Everest,” she supplied.

He nodded.

“Damn,” Skylar said. “I seriously didn’t want to go back there any time soon.”

“I think this time it’s my turn,” Meira said.

Samael scowled at the words, but his dragon rumbled a different concern, not at the specific words, but the way she slurred them.

“No,” Skylar snapped.

“Mama trained me, too, Sky,” Meira said with a frown of concentration. She was also starting to sway on her feet. “I can get in and out easier. Move from room to room faster. You know I’m right.”

“Meira?” Samael held a hand out to steady her, and the image in the mirror started to flicker. “That’s it. I’m calling it,” he said. “Shut it down.”

She blinked at him with eyes turning heavier by the second. “We’ll call again later,” she said, not turning her gaze away from his. Then the flames shut off, the mirror cutting off whatever protest Skylar was about to make.

She’d listened to him. Not even a question. Samael had to keep himself from scooping her up and running off with her. “What next?” he asked.

“Sleep,” she murmured, visibly drooping. “Definitely sleep.”