I rummaged around in my pack, trying to be quiet so Quinn wouldn’t wake. I pulled out an invocation stone. Perfect. Now, I just needed to set it up. I placed the stone on the sofa, climbed up and began speaking in low tones. A moment later the stone sent up a soft glow.

My father would probably keep me waiting. That was okay. I could use the time to pull myself together. Yesterday had upended my world. I was irrevocably linked to a wizard, I’d come close to mating him, and we still hadn’t retrieved the damn unicorn horn. Yet, for all of that, I was surprisingly . . . content. Last night had been amazing, my dragon and fairy sides both sated. I don’t think that ever happened before. Certainly not at this level of intensity.

Because I wanted my father to take his time, naturally he didn’t. The stone glowed a muted white and his image appeared hovering over the stone.

“Good morning, son. Dare I ask what brings you to contact me?” His expression was guarded. Couldn’t blame the guy. I did my best to pretend I didn’t have a sire most of the time. Our conversations were never easy and left both of us frustrated. Simpler not to talk. Though he clearly didn’t feel that way since he made every effort to keep tabs on me and then let me know how I fucked things up.

“Don’t you know?” I joked. Totally fell flat, his raised eyebrow speaking louder than words.

“I’m receiving reports of a change in the Rottingvale Quagmire—flowers, trees, and other things growing in it. Assuming that means Sahara Burningwood has been . . . dealt with.” He held up a hand. “No, don’t tell me. Better I don’t know.”

“I’m not calling about that.”

“Of course not.” He shook his head, his downturned mouth speaking louder than his words. Then he squinted, cocked his head to the side. “Something’s different.”

Naturally, even in hologram form, he would recognize the most minute details. I really didn’t want to go into it with him.

“You’ve shifted?” His eyes widened almost comically. “I’d heard whispers of a dragon in the East, but I didn’t believe. . . . Should have known.”

My cheeks warmed.

“I like to think it’s a good thing, Dad.”

He harrumphed. “I’m going to have to file a form ACS2b3F now. You’ll need an extension to stay until we can file the necessary paperwork to get you permanent residency.” He rubbed his temple like a massive headache was coming on.

“I have permanent residency.”

“Under the assumption you weren’t a real dragon.”

“A real . . . What in the lower realms does that mean? I’ve always been a real dragon.” If Quinn hadn’t been sleeping I would have snarled. My father sure knew how to stab someone in the heart.

“Yes, yes,” he waved his hand dismissively, “I meant for the purposes of the Ogbad Accord. Never mind, never mind, I’ll handle it, like I always do. Zephyr’s Principles of Transmorphaeting Creatures has some language which could be . . . interpreted . . . in such a way to make this process a little easier. We’ll see.”

Forcing myself to take a deep breath and let it out, I said, “Dad, I didn’t call to talk about my residency status, either. I need to know where Nyx is living these days.”

I watched my father’s face turn from bureaucratic ecstasy to horror. “We don’t discuss him. Ever.”

“I know. But I—”

“I’ll get on the paperwork for your temporary residency and you can sign the papers once you return to Lighthelm. We’ll have to be on it quick or Novus Greyclover will cause a stink. He really likes to tweak my nose when he gets the chance.”

“Dad. Listen, I really need to know where Nyx is. It’s important. I promise I won’t mention him again, but I know you know where he’s staying. I’m asking you for help.”

If I didn’t know better I’d say my father shuffled his feet for a second before straightening. “I’m aware he hurt you, Twig. I’ve said it before; I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. A father can sometimes be blinded by being too close. But seeking him out is foolish. He . . . he’s lost to me . . . to us now.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. My father had the wrong impression here. Not too surprising, since it was one of the few things that still hurt him. Probably because he had been wrong. So wrong.

“Dad, I’m not going to hurt him or try to save him. But I do need to see him. Don’t make too much of it, okay?”

“I understand needing closure—”

“It’s you who needs closure, not me.” I pressed my lips together to keep from saying more and crossed my arms over my chest as though physically restraining the words that ached to burst from my throat whenever Nyx was the topic. Dad gave me a look full of pity. Great. Just what I wanted.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“Please.” It felt like chewing glass, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He sighed. “It goes against my better judgment.” He sighed again. “He’s living in the Golden Hills of Wiffleweather. On The Huge Hill.”

“So, Wiffleweather, then. Good to know.” The mountains weren’t my first choice, but they were as good a place as any to take on the bane of my teenaged existence. He would pick The Huge Hill. I deserved a medal for not rolling my eyes at Nyx’s Naphaeleon complex.

Inadequate much?

“You planning to tell me about it?”

“Probably not.” I smiled. He shook his head, but I swore his lips turned up in a bit of a smirk.

“Be careful. He’s . . . unstable.”

“Believe me, I know. And I will. Thank you.” I ran my hand over my father’s image and it vanished.

“Your father is never dull, I’ll say that.” Quinn sat up in bed, rubbed at his eyes. How long had he been listening?

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mind.”

I smiled at him. His hair stuck up in cute clumps and his neck looked like a very clumsy vampire had attacked him. Instead of shame, a possessive thrill shot through me. Mine.

“You going to explain why your dad was acting so weird?”

I groaned. “It’s a bit of a story. Nyx is my half-brother.”

* * *

Quinn shoveled another bite of pancake into his mouth. Once again he ate his weight in food. I’d never seen a human eat so much. Must have something to do with our link, or perhaps his magic. Did witches eat like this too?

“Wha?” he said with his mouth full. He poured a sticky saber-tooth syrup over the quickly disappearing stack—his third—and continued to chew. Swallowing, he glanced around our room like we’d be overheard. “You really okay to go after your half-brother? Maybe we can figure out a way for me to go and you can stay nearby. That way you wouldn’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see him?” I leaned forward on my elbow, enjoying the sight. He’d managed to tame his hair and had wrapped a cowl around his neck to hide most of the marks, but some still showed through, and stubble burn streaked across his chin. I liked it. A lot. As if reading my thoughts, his cheeks reddened. I grinned.

“Stay on topic, please. I heard what your dad said. Nyx obviously did something to you.”

“He did. He made my life a nightmare when I first came to live with my father. I was thrown out of my clan at fifteen and was still just a kid really. Nyx didn’t take well to what he saw as competition for my father’s affection.” I snorted. “I could have told him that our father doesn’t feel affection for anyone. Not in his makeup. But for some reason Nyx wanted it. Craved it. It made things . . . unpleasant. When my dad finally figured out what was going on and confronted Nyx about it, Nyx didn’t handle it well.” Understatement.

“But your dad still keeps in contact with him?”

I chuckled. “No. My father values his life.” At Quinn’s raised eyebrow I added, “Nyx hates our dad. Loathes him now. Lives for the idea of hurting him.”

“Oh.” Quinn cleared his throat. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he hate you, too?”

I shrugged. “Sure. I guess. He always has.”

“You don’t look upset about it.”

“Why should I be? You think he’s the first to hate me because of what I am?”

Quinn reached out, placed a hand on my forearm. I expected him to do what he usually did and pull back quickly, but instead he tightened his grip until it was almost painful. “I know we’re still trying to figure things out and what it means to be a wizard and familiar, but I want you to know I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

His face looked so grave when he said it, his jaw firm, eyes glittering dangerously. I almost laughed, except I could see how serious he was. Quinn might be indentured to a sadistic unicorn, but he still had his pride. I wasn’t about to strip it from him. And if I was honest, his declaration—though totally unnecessary—made my heart thump once. Hard. He meant every word and I loved it.

So instead of snickering, I placed my hand over his. “Thank you.”

He nodded, didn’t release my arm. I didn’t mind. At all.

Staring into each other's eyes, it was easy to forget we still had a job to do. Finally clearing my throat, I said, “So, we need to leave for the Wiffleweather Mountains tomorrow morning. I can fly us there. I think.”

Quinn seemed to consider this. “Maybe. We’ll have to try your wings out first. See if they’re fully functional.”

It pissed me off that even in my dragon form, there was no guarantee I’d be able to fly. I’d find out soon enough.

“We won’t need to cross the Expanse again,” I said, keeping focused on our next steps. “But we will have to go north to the outer edge of the Elder. I’m not sure why Nyx would set up there. It’s a desolate area. Lots of demon activity, though.”

“Demons? Why’s that?”

I shrugged. “There used to be an illegal entry point. They’d pop over from Notocrypta, the demon realm, and feed off emotion or sex or sometimes bodies—though my dad put a stop to most of it. He and the council sealed the gateway some time ago. It wouldn’t surprise me if my . . . Nyx was trying to open the portal again.”

Quinn gaped. “You mean like throw it wide open?”

I considered this. My dear half-brother was definitely crazy enough to do it and damn the consequences. “He would, but I doubt that he has. More likely he’s trying to extract a particular demon or two. And that’s assuming he’s even there because of the demons. It could be something less insidious. He does need to stay out from under my father’s gaze and believe me, that’s not an easy task.”

“He can’t control a demon.”

“True. He won’t believe that, though.”

“So he’s fucking crazy?”

“Like a harpy with a hangover.”

Quinn blew out a breath. “He couldn’t just be a sweet little fairy, could he?”

I nudged him with my shoulder. “Nothing sweet about fairies, wizard.”

“What do you think Nyx wants with the horn?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

* * *

“You sure your wings were meant for flying?” Quinn asked, his tone gentle.

His lack of confidence chafed. I grunted, thought some very uncharitable things about his lineage as I unfurled my wings. His eyes widened when I got to a particularly descriptive passage about his sire. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Sorry I asked.”

I huffed. The truth was I didn’t know if my wings would allow me to fly, either. I had been too concerned about Quinn’s exhaustion and my own to try it when we were in Rottingvale. I glared down my long neck at my fairy wings. If I could blush in dragon form I would have. Delicate, rounded like a butterfly’s, with a sparkly border tracing the outer edges. Could I be any more embarrassed? Someone from my ex-clan would laugh themselves silly.

“Hey, big guy, don’t get upset. Even if it turns out you can’t fly, you’re still amazing. There’s no one in all the realms like you.”

I lowered my head until I could nudge him in the belly. Quinn flew off his feet and landed with a thump. Oops. Still didn’t know my own strength in this form. I didn’t have hands to help him up, so I used my tongue to let him know I was sorry. It was like giving him a shower if his horrified yelling was any indication.

“Cut it out, Twig! Ugh. I’m soaked.” He covered his head with his hands. I chortled. I mean, it was funny, right? “Will you stop? Ugh, your breath reeks!”

Quinn scooted back, trying to avoid my tongue. If time wasn’t of the essence, I would enjoy continuing to bathe him. Maybe another day . . .

“Seriously, quit it.” Quinn waited to see if I’d do it again. I bared my teeth in a smile. He shook his head. “Fucking dragons,” he muttered under his breath.

I couldn’t agree more.

Once he was on his feet again, he eyed my back. “Okay, here’s what I think. Your wings simply won’t move like a regular dragon’s, so you’ll have to learn to fly like a fairy.”

I glared, steam rising from my nose. I wasn’t going to flit here and there. I wasn’t.

“You will if you want to try flying. I’m telling you, your wings aren’t designed otherwise.”

I growled.

“Stop being a baby.”

Fine. I sulked, and didn’t flutter them.

“Come on, big guy, time’s a wasting.” Quinn stood on tiptoe to pat my chest.

Grumbling all the way, I flicked my wings a few times, testing them out. It actually felt pretty good, but I’d never admit it to Quinn.

“You know I can hear your thoughts, right?” Quinn said. “I can’t block you in your dragon form. I think it’s because we’re supposed to communicate, so our magics don’t cancel themselves out.”

Naturally.

Before he could urge me again, I fluttered my wings, letting them pick up speed. It felt oddly natural, though I couldn’t imagine how it would feel once my feet left the ground. Beating them even harder, I felt the pull of the sky. My dragon wanted to be airborne. I bounced in place, trying to get my wings to cooperate.

When I suddenly shot into the air, I wasn’t prepared. I careened and slammed into some savage yew trees, toppling them. Not so savage now. Whoops. My tail lashed out as I flailed and I almost took Quinn’s head off. Good thing he was quick on his feet and dropped back to the ground.

I did too, and the resounding thud was probably heard all the way to Lighthelm. I fell to my side, legs thrashing. Dammit.

“Don’t get discouraged, Twig! You were airborne. It’s just going to take practice. We still have all day. And worst case scenario, we walk.”

He was lucky he was my wizard or I would have barbequed him on the spot.

“Hey—”

Well, I would have.

“If you don’t want me here—”

I want you here. Just shut up and let me think. I struggled to my feet. After a moment, I moved back into the clearing and tried again.

Up I went. It might have been okay, but the moment I tried to move forward, I shot to the side and almost banged into another set of trees. I flapped harder and jetted in the other direction, catapulting backward, slamming to the ground.

“Oh, wow.” Quinn came running, placed his hands on the side of my cheek. “That was amazing.”

I snapped my teeth at him.

“No, listen. You flew backward. Backward. No other dragon can do that. That’s so . . . cool.” He laughed and the sound was joyous and unburdened. For a moment I imagined him as a kid. He must have been so much trouble.

“I was not.”

I raised a horned eyebrow.

“Not much.” He smiled. “Once you get the hang of this, you are going to be the scourge of the skies. You know that, right?”

If they don’t laugh themselves silly first.

“If it gives us an advantage, I’ll take it.”

Us?

“Yeah, us. You think I’m not a laughingstock? Believe me, you’ll be in good company.”

I swiveled my head so I could better see Quinn. He was the furthest thing from a laughingstock. He was brave and strong and . . . mine.

His smile was soft. “Thank you. You really know how to make me feel good.”

I did my best to shrug. Just speaking the truth.

Without warning he slapped my nose. “Come on, the day’s not getting any younger. I know you can do this. Show me what you got.”

He asked for it.