I had always been interested in the way a sunrise could look entirely different, depending on where in the world one happened to be.

Granted, I’d only ever seen a highland sunrise for most of my life before the clan’s abduction.

St. Lucia sunrises were a thing to behold, no doubt, with the water and sand painted gold by the early morning rays. Majestic beauty, the sort that made a person stop and hold their breath, as if the mere act of breathing might cause the moment to end.

The sunrise I admired high up in the Appalachian mountains, sadly, did not compare to the tropical sunrises I’d enjoyed after our release from captivity, but they were still a thing of great beauty.

Even my dragon could appreciate the quiet serenity in those early hours. A sense of the world coming back to life. Light painting the foothills in the distance, light which spread further and further, touching upon far-off steeples and chimneys, ribbons of road carved into mountainside.

A familiar longing stirred deep within my dragon. I recognized it. The desire to beat my wings against the morning air and keep going. To fly. To explore.

There was no greater chance of my being able to do any such thing now as there had ever been at home. Under no circumstances would it be wise to venture from the space directly surrounding the mountain and its many layers of charms which prevented detection from those below.

That would surely make for an interesting news item. A red-scaled dragon soaring high over the mountains. I could just imagine the number of auto accidents that would cause. Soon, I would attract military attention, and it would all go to hell from there.

But I could wish. I could yearn for something… more. Something different. Though I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone in my clan—not even Leslie, who at times felt like an extension of myself—the time we’d spent in St. Lucia had served as an awakening of sorts.

I could only imagine what the others would think if they heard me speak of it. Most likely, they would assume it was just another case of Isla being Isla. Flighty, giggly Isla, who rarely thought deeply on any subject. For whom life was nothing but a lark.

The dragon side of my awareness pushed back at these dark thoughts. My dragon wanted nothing more than to soar, to be free.

It was not meant to be. We were born into a world far different than the one in which we currently lived. A thousand years changed a great many things, and while there was no longer a risk of pursuit by torch-wielding townsfolk, there was no longer a chance of anonymity. Not with satellites and drones and jet planes and such.

The most I could do, then, was to climb ever-higher before plunging back down toward the mountain in a free fall, albeit a controlled one.

Wind rushed past me, thrilling me, roaring in my ears. I’d always liked a good free fall, especially pulling up at the very last second. Just when it seemed I was sure to smash into the ground, I’d pull my head up and get my hind legs under me, using my tail for leverage.

It drove Leslie to distraction, which made me all the more eager to show off whenever the chance presented itself. It presented itself just then, as she’d stepped out from the cave and was looking up into the sky, in hopes of finding me, I assumed.

She glared at me, shaking her head hard enough to send her hair swaying. “I hate when you do that!” she called out once I’d touched down. “Owen and Dallas wish to see us.”

I shifted from my dragon to my human form and accepted the robe she held out. “I can hardly wait.”

“Now, now.” She looked over her shoulder as if to make certain we were alone.

“No.” I cinched the belt about my waist. “Forgive me, but I still fail to see why we’ve come. The coven needed protection along the way. Yet all our presence did was—allegedly—alert the Gwydions to their approach. ‘Tis a wonder they haven’t already staged an attack on the mountain.”

“You know they cannot.” We walked the tunnel together, a lengthy passage leading deep down into the heart of the mountain. “The protection spells.”

“Yes, I know,” I grumbled. “They can do nothing to the coven or to us while we are here. Now, there is nothing for us to occupy our time with than waiting and watching that wee lad run about the place.”

“Tommy is a grand boy,” Leslie grinned. Just as much in love with him as everyone else seemed to be.

The lad was something of a pet, adored and doted upon. Not spoiled, though, which I supposed ought to be credited to his aunt, Carissa. The scientist, Cash’s mate.

“Do you think it will be like this for us one day?” I asked as we approached the maze of tunnels carved into the mountain. Their home for the last thousand years.

“Like what?”

“All of us mating up, bringing our mates to live with us.”

She shrugged, good-natured as always. “I suppose. After all, Alan, Ainsley, and Tamhas have found theirs. Dallas and Owen will more than likely bring their mates home with us. Our clan is expanding. Soon there will be bairns running about the place.”

As if on cue, Tommy came barreling down the corridor, dressed in a cape, wearing a superhero mask. I hadn’t the slightest idea who he was intended to be. Little did it matter, as he slammed into me with the same force regardless.

“Oof!” I cried out in surprise. “The eyeholes in that mask need to be a great deal larger if you do not wish to break your bones.”

“I’m sorry.” He slid the mask up, over his head, and the blue eyes which looked up at me were large with worry. “Did I hurt you?”

The lad had a sweetness I couldn’t resist.

I patted his cheek with a smile. “Not a bit, dear, but you might hurt yourself if you aren’t more careful. Why not ask Alina or Ciera to take a pair of scissors to your mask so you can see better?”

Owen and Dallas waited for us in the library, the two of them deep in conversation.

“I don’t like the idea,” Dallas grumbled, folding his arms with a sigh.

“No more than I do,” Owen agreed.

“What’s the trouble?” I looked from one of them to the other. “I was enjoying a lovely flight, so it had better be good.”

Owen snickered. “Do you consider going on a journey with the lions Mary’s sending worth bringing your flight to an early end?”

A journey? My pulse immediately picked up speed, though I did everything in my power to appear unaffected.

“I cannot say I agree with this at all.” Dallas’s face was like stone. “It pains me to disagree with Mary, as she has done a great deal of good for us.”

“What does she have in mind?” Leslie asked.

Dallas scowled. “She believes it might be easier and might save a great deal of time if one or more of our number join the lions who plan to search for what is left of the Gwydions. We might be able to, in her words, flush them out. As if this were nothing more than a hunting expedition.”

“Aye, because that is what it is,” Owen reminded him. “This is a hunt. We wish to flush out our prey. If they sense our kind drawing near, they are bound to react.”

I challenged. “What do you think they’ll do when they know we’re advancing on them?”

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we arrive at it.” Owen looked at us one by one. “Mary has always known what is best, has she not?”

This did little to settle Dallas’s mind, that was clear, but my imagination danced at the notion of a new adventure. I could stand up to anything the sorcerers saw fit to place in my path.

“When do we start out?” I asked, only to be greeted by silence.

In Leslie’s case, a dropped jaw accompanied that silence. “You are truly in such a rush to be away from this place?”

My cheeks colored. So much for eagerness. “’Tis not that I long to be away. I long to feel useful. I long for something to do. You know I have never been one to sit idly by.”

“Och, nay. Not you,” Dallas winked.

“What?”

Owen snickered. “I’ve never imagined you to be so devoted to action. You’ve always seemed…”

“Idle?” I snapped. “Useless, perhaps?”

“No one believes that.” Leslie touched my shoulder, brushing my long, reddish-blond hair aside.

I shook her off. “They believe it about both of us, and you ought to find it as infuriating as I do.”

“What is this?” Owen’s head tilted to one side as he studied me.

I could not say, though I found myself startlingly close to a childish tantrum. If I allowed myself to give in to hot-headed emotion, it would only convince my clan of my uselessness. Rather than defend myself, I left the room with what little dignity I possessed still intact and hurried down the corridor to the room I’d inhabited since our arrival.

None of them understood. Not even Leslie. I had no place in the clan, nothing to distinguish me. Perhaps she didn’t know what it meant to long for more, and if that was the case, I envied her. I wished I could return to those days, when it had mattered not whether I ever found something worth venturing out of bed for.

Something beyond protecting a treasure.

Perhaps it was what we’d learned in the wake of Owen finding his mate, Molly, that had me feeling so deeply out-of-sorts. Was it true that there was no treasure beneath the mountain? That the Gwydions had stolen it, splitting it up amongst themselves? That they would have killed the clan were it not for the spells the coven had placed on the mountain to protect it and those who called it their home?

If that were the case, what was the point of anything? Was the treasure stored beneath our mountain, back in Scotland, still there? Had we, too, fooled ourselves into believing we served a higher purpose?

Had we wasted our long lives?

My kin were wise enough to leave me on my own for a while, allowing me to brood in peace. There were several dozen books at my disposal, not to mention all the music and entertainment I could imagine at the tips of my fingers, all controlled by a small remote and available through the flat-screen TV mounted on one wall.

I wanted for nothing.

Nothing except purpose.

It was hours before the growing commotion in the hall outside my door stirred me from the bed, where I’d passed the time with a thick novel whose plot I’d hardly paid attention to. My thoughts were far too dark and clouded to allow me to pay attention.

“What’s this?” I asked, poking my head through the door.

Martina noticed me. “Mom’s guys,” she explained. “You might’ve met them in St. Lucia.”

She was in too much of a hurry to hang about and explain further, not that I needed it.

My head buzzed. It hadn’t occurred to me. I hadn’t given it even a half-second’s thought.

Was he among them?

The very idea set my heart to racing, leaving me no choice but to lean against the wall for support while I strained to catch my breath. Bryce. Was he one of them?

Did I want him to be, when he had not bothered even to write? When I’d fought my traitorous heart for months in the hopes of forgetting him?

I held my breath, willing myself to be calm. There was a good chance he’d remained at Mary’s side, or that she’d sent him elsewhere.

The woman had eyes and ears all over the globe, or so I’d heard countless times. With so many at her disposal, the odds of Bryce being one of the lions she’d sent to assist us were slim.

Why, then, could I not convince myself to greet them?