Every part of Clarissa’s body felt deliciously exhausted, as if her bones had gone liquid and she was melting into Nathaniel beneath her. But then he looked at her and asked her about Grindylow.
The truth was, at the moment, she didn’t care if she ever got her magic back. All she wanted to do was enjoy more of this, more of being this dragon’s mate. She could spend days in this bed as the object of his affection. But there was more to her hesitation. What Grindylow had told her about having sisters had rocked her to her core. It couldn’t be true of course. There had to be some explanation. Perhaps she’d used the term sister symbolically.
“You said in the car that Grindylow blamed the dragon queen and her fairy liege for what happened to you. Am I remembering that right? I was out of it.”
She rested her chin on his chest. “Yes. Exactly what she said. Do you know who she might be talking about?”
“Only my mother and her fairy-sorceress sidekick. Her name was Aborella. But that couldn’t be it. My mother is dead.”
“Did a new queen replace her?”
“Even if one did, why would she be targeting you? She’s in another world. No one in Paragon has even met you.” He threaded his fingers behind his head.
“I don’t know.”
“What was your second question?”
“I asked how to get my powers back.”
“And what did she say?”
“Yeah, get this… She said I need to rebind myself to my sisters.”
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you had any sisters.”
“I don’t. I was told my real parents died in a car crash. I had no biological siblings. The Blacks adopted me, but they died in a freak accident when I was five. After that, I was raised in the American foster care system. None of the other children I ever lived with felt like sisters. It’s total BS.” She’d already shared her personal background with Nathaniel, but it bore repeating after all this time.
He seemed to turn that over in his mind. “So what was your third question?”
“I asked how I find these so-called sisters. I thought maybe she was using the term metaphorically and that her answer would help me figure it out.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me one was nearby and would come to me. The other, and I quote, ‘must be retrieved from her obsidian tomb before the queen finishes what she started.’”
He raised his head off the pillow and frowned at her. “Did she actually use the term obsidian?”
“Yes.”
“Not dark? Not black?”
“No. Obsidian.”
“Hmmm.” A muscle in his jaw began to twitch, and she could feel his entire body tense beneath her.
“Why does that bother you?”
“The palace where I grew up was called the Obsidian Palace for a reason. It was built into the side of a mountain and was made entirely of the stuff. Floors, walls, ceilings… dungeon. Polished to a shine. We used to call the dungeon the obsidian tomb because if you were sentenced there, it was usually a life sentence. The conditions were bleak and no one could hear you scream.”
“So… according to Grindylow, someone I am somehow related to is in a dungeon in Paragon?”
He shrugged. “It fits the picture. If the dragon queen is truly to blame, then it’s possible that this other piece of the puzzle, this symbolic sister, is also Paragonian.” He scoffed and shook his head.
“I know, ridiculous, right?” She sighed.
“I was just remembering that our bond would be illegal in Paragon. Relationships between dragons and witches were forbidden.”
“Oh? Why?”
“There’s a story from where I come from. It’s part of our history. Centuries ago, a witch from the kingdom of Darnuith fell in love with a dragon and tried to overthrow the kingdom of Paragon. The coup was stopped and the witch and dragon were killed, but afterward it was determined that the combination of the two supernatural creatures was too powerful. Witches control the elements, but they are mortal. Dragons have limited powers but an infinite source of magic. Together, it was feared the right union might be unstoppable. And their offspring… the fear was they would be an abomination, a dragon shifter able to compel the natural elements independently. Theoretically, they would never tire. Never run out of power and never die.”
“Hmm. So what we just did is breaking the law?” She laughed and bobbed her eyebrows. “Criminality has never been so delicious.”
He gave her a slow, masculine smile. “They’ll have to lock me up to keep me from you.”
She kissed him softly.
“It’s a good thing we aren’t in Paragon. Nothing to worry about here.”
“Good thing.”
“But there is this bit about your ‘sister’ being near and finding us.” He rubbed his chin.
“Do you think there’s something to it?”
His gaze shifted to hers and he ran his finger along the edge of her hair, then tucked it behind her ear. “What if—and hear me out on this—she’s referring to your doppelgänger that Wallace told us about?”
Clarissa blinked. With all the excitement, she’d forgotten about the look-alike who’d tried to sell Peter the book on dragons. “You think by sister, she meant someone who looks like me?”
He nodded. “Perhaps the reason this woman is searching for more information about dragon magic is that she knows it was used to neutralize her magic as well. Perhaps she’s a witch.”
A tingle crawled up Clarissa’s neck. “A magical sisterhood, like a coven. It’s possible. How do we find her and ask her?”
“I’ll call Peter. He can make up some excuse for the sellers to come back for the book. When they do, we’ll be there.”