I groaned. Every single part of me ached, and I wondered why my Phaetyn powers hadn’t healed me. Rolling onto my back, I hissed in pain and tried to heave myself back on my side. Large warm hands helped me turn, and I forced my eyelids apart. A distant part of me couldn’t believe I’d managed to drift off—though it was more likely I’d passed out from exhaustion at some point during the night.

Tyrrik scooped his arm under my shoulders and lifted me upright until I was sitting. My head swam, and I clutched the neck of his aketon to steady myself. “Dizzy.”

He held still until I nodded then reached behind me to grab something. The sweet smell of nectar floated to me as the Drae held a goblet to my lips.

“Thanks,” I rasped. I took a long draught, and the nectar soothed the ragged edges of pain from the inside of my throat. But as soon as Tyrrik withdrew the chalice, I stammered, “M-more.”

He obliged, filling the shiny stemware and giving it back to me. I took another long drink, although this one was more to avoid talking about what happened last night. That Tyrrik saw me as a screaming, blubbering, contorting mess deeply embarrassed me. I was inordinately grateful that he had been here. He’d said I’d need help, and as I thought of the hourly baths he’d given me in the pool of nectar and the words of encouragement through the night, I no longer doubted this fact.

His dark hair was disheveled, and his cheeks and chin dusted with a day’s worth of growth. Darkness clung to him, like wisps of spider’s webs, his black aketon was rumpled, and he offered a wan smile.

“You look as bad as I feel,” I said, breaking the silence. The black threads seemed to be emanating from within him, and when I blinked, they faded. Even my eyes were exhausted.

He huffed, a mannerism that would look less odd in his Drae form. “It is not easy to watch someone go through that,” he said. “I have never cared for another Drae during their transformation before.”

“You did a stellar job,” I mumbled. My pitiful gratitude was lost as the buzz of languid fatigue spread through me, and I closed my eyes and leaned into him. I could probably sleep for a week.

“Your transformation seemed worse than I remembered.”

“Because I’m part Phaetyn, do you think?” I asked, my eyes opening a crack before floating closed. “It was pretty horrible.” And didn’t compare to the torture sessions with Jotun; this pain had a reward at the end—it wasn’t meaningless pain meant to break me but pain resulting from something I hoped would make me stronger. A thrill of excitement vibrated through my chest and out to my extremities. I could feel the new strength in my fingers, in my body, even as weary as I was. Aside from that, I seemed pretty much the same as I’d been, though this was coupled by a knowledge that my skin would be impenetrable to weapons, even those dipped in Phaetyn blood—or so I assumed. I blinked my eyes open again, and testing my sense of smell, I inhaled deeply . . .

And stiffened.

My mouth watered, and I slapped a hand over my lips before any of my saliva spilled out. My cheeks heated, and I dropped my gaze and yelped when I saw thread-like energy in vibrant blue and green coming from my core. I blinked again, and the wisps of color disappeared, but the captivating scent did not.

“What is it?” Tyrrik rumbled beside me, his breath washing over me.

What is it? I swallowed. Tyrrik smelled freaking incredible is what. I took another deep breath and let the scent wash over me. Like pine needles and smoke and leather. Slap me with a pancake and call me a potato! I could exist on that smell alone. I loved it so much I could roll around in it, lick it up like syrup, I could . . . I blinked through the sudden fog of desire surrounding me. “N-nothing?”

“Ryn,” Tyrrik said through clenched teeth, backing away from me. “You need to rein it in.” His nostrils flared.

Horror flooded me, and I hastened to make sure we weren’t touching, but it appeared as though the Drae was merely smelling . . . me. Playing dumb, I asked, “Rein what in?”

My feigned ignorance disappeared when I turned to face Tyrrik, and I gasped in awe. For well over a week, he’d been flashing a vibrant blue color underneath the onyx black of his scales, but I now saw it as though for the first time through my new and improved Drae eyes. The wispy strands of darkness around him had threads of blue, and his scales pulsated with lapis lazuli. My gaze zoomed in and focused on the sight, and I crawled closer to him on all fours. Kneeling in front of him, I reached out in a daze. I brushed my fingertips across his exposed collarbone, touching his scales.

“They’re beautiful,” I breathed.

He puffed out his chest, and his shuddering lessened.

Why was he puffing up like that? I inhaled again and—what would my mother say—swayed on the spot. My heart pounded, and my breaths became shallow as I leaned toward him. The desire to close the distance was a magnetic force, and I remembered how his kisses tasted like nectar. “Tyrrik,” I whispered. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. “What is going on?”

“You need to switch off the . . . signal you’re sending,” Tyrrik said, his own shallow breaths an almost desperate panting.

“What signal?” I asked shrilly, my fear spiking. “I don’t know what signal I’m sending!”

He stood abruptly. “It’s a signal to male Drae. Your scent.”

“Y-you mean—” My lips parted in awe as I stammered, “Like a . . .” Mating call? “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he ground out. In a blur which my new eyes easily tracked, he exited the cave.

Perhaps, it would be best if I didn’t sniff people anymore. Or, at least, not male Drae. Which meant I shouldn’t smell Tyrrik anymore. I pursed my lips as I contemplated not smelling that scent. In truth, I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to smell him. That stuff was better than honey-cakes.

“Ryn!”

I blew out a long exhale and looked up into the darkness of the cave, which welcomed me as though I was an old friend, and I set my mind to platonic observations. Like how I could see everything though it was pitch black in here. The cave was beautiful, and I wondered if Tyrrik’s lair back in Verald was this pretty inside. The walls here were sleek granite, and a glistening pool bubbled languorously in a stream through the middle of the chamber.

Several body-sized indents had been made into the side of one wall, and I wondered if Tyrrik and other Drae used the hard resting places to sleep when they were here. A pleasant humming rumble came out of my mouth as I smiled and gazed around the cave. The dark cavern could use a comfortable touch here and there. Not so much flowers or pictures but maybe some gold treasure and gems and a blanket or two in case I got cold. I frowned. Actually, I was really warm. Last time I’d been in Tyrrik’s cave, I’d been freezing, hadn’t I? Or was that the heat stroke? What if I could breathe fire now? Perspiration broke out on my brow. Was that why my voice was so hoarse? I was not ready for fire to come out of my throat.

“You can’t breathe fire,” Tyrrik called in.

“Are you kidding? Why not?” I clambered to my feet and paused halfway to the entrance when it occurred to me I hadn’t spoken my fire-breathing thoughts aloud. “No,” I said, straightening. “No way. Please tell me your answer was a coincidence.”

“It was a coincidence,” he said, standing in the mouth of the cave. Sunlight streamed in around him, putting his strong, towering frame in silhouette. I eyed the bright light in distaste. That would hurt my eyes, I was certain, so I stayed back in the darkness.

What’s thirteen plus three? I asked silently, seeing another wisp of blue in the darkness.

Sixteen, he answered.

“We don’t need to be touching to hear each other now?” I asked, my shoulders slumping. Had he heard all the sniffing stuff, too? How humiliating. Telepathy wouldn’t be awkward. Not one bit. “Is that a Drae kin thing?”

He shrugged. “I’m not ecstatic about it either.”

A foreign joy seeped through to me, tinged with fear. The emotion didn’t reflect my current mood, and I studied the feeling skeptically until I put it together, and my mouth dropped open. “But you are. You—you want it. The telepathic stuff. You like it.” I studied the hints of fear he was putting out. “At least, mostly.”

He scratched the back of his head, and I wished his expression was visible.

I changed the subject. “So, I’m strong, and I can smell,” I said. “That’s all I get?”

“For now. Smell is the sense most crucial for survival, so it is present from the beginning. You possess the ability to use your other senses in this form, too, but using them will require practice.”

“My senses were all over the place before the transformation.” I frowned.

“You were partially transformed and scared. Your senses in this form will be most accessible when you feel threatened.” He waved at me, beckoning for me to join him outside. “We need to begin your training. We’ll need to leave here the morning after next, and you need to know, at least, the basics. The rest will come in time or as you get older.”

Training? No way. That sounded like work, and my body was still tuckered. I yawned, and my jaw cracked. I curled up on my side and, with a shooing gesture, said, “Maybe once night falls. I feel like a nap.”

“I was going to teach you to fly,” Tyrrik beckoned.

“Tonight,” I repeated lazily, partially asleep already.

A high-pitched clink echoed through the cave from the entrance. I opened my eyes, sliding my gaze back to Tyrrik. My mouth dried as I saw what he held aloft. Playing it cool, I asked, “What’s that?”

“A gold trinket.”

Desire shot through me, and I propped myself up, licking my lips. “What kind of trinket?”

“It’s an antique pill box that once belonged to an esteemed baroness.” He tossed the pill box in his hand. “Want it?”

The gold beckoned me. It was just what this cave needed. A bit of sparkling wealth. Actually, I needed it. I got to my feet and murmured, “Yes.”

“Come for your flying lesson, and it’s yours.” His silky voice wrapped around me, pulling me to him with a warm undercurrent to it.

I narrowed my eyes and studied him. Tyrrik’s face was smooth, his impassive mask on, and I couldn’t help my suspicion. His offer seemed fair. I walked toward the gold and said, “Flying lesson, and it’s mine; no tricks.”

At least, I meant to walk, but I went faster. A lot faster.

I shrieked as I blurred toward Tyrrik, my arms flailing. He caught me around the waist as I crashed into him, the air whooshing out of me as my silver hair fanned around us.

“Sorry,” I managed, brushing back my locks. Was all of the brown gone? My Drae transformation must have burned the dye out of my hair.

He snorted and slowly withdrew his arm. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He brushed the rest of my hair over my shoulder. “I like it better silver.”

Right. We’d better not go through that again. I straightened, pulling on my rumpled aketon. “Show me the shiny.”

“Not until after the lesson,” he said with a sardonic smile. “First things first: You’ll need to shift.”

I glanced around the clear area outside the cave. “Is there enough room?”

Tyrrik nodded. “Female Drae aren’t as big as males.”

“Why not?”

“Because they play different roles. They have different strengths and weaknesses.”

“Like what?”

“The females are the calming balance to the male’s volatile nature,” Tyrrik said.

Lame. “But I’m stronger and faster, and I have claws, wings, and fangs, right?”

His eyes softened. “Yes, just not to the same degree as a male. Except speed, that is.”

“Then what cool powers do I get?”

The Drae cleared his throat. “Enough questions, Ryn.” He lowered his voice and stepped closer. “Shift.”

Apprehension filled me, and my heart fluttered against my chest. What if I couldn’t do it? I opened my mouth to ask, but the question evaporated as Tyrrik ran his finger over my right shoulder blade.

“Shift,” he said in a deep voice.

Something primal took over, led by the unrelenting power in the baritone of his Drae voice. Dark energy caressed me, and I cried, “Tyrrik.”

Except the cry came out as a roar. A shimmering blue light exploded around me. Brilliant-blue scales erupted up my arms and neck, down my legs, and over my face. My fingernails became black hooked talons. My face lengthened, a thick bi-curved plate growing over the front of my chest. The blue energy pulsed from within, and I swelled in size, snorting in alarm as Tyrrik shrunk on the ground beneath me. Gigantic wings burst from my shoulder blades, the blue leathery skin stretching between the hollow bones still strong enough to keep this form in the air. Pain pinched at my lower back as I curved over to rest on all fours. The pressure there continued until a horned tail curled around to rest by my side. Razor-sharp fangs slid down over my powerful jaws, and I arched my Drae spine. I felt invincible and couldn’t help the deep satisfaction in my chest rumbling out in a deep purr.

The shimmering energy surrounding me settled and faded. The thoughts of my normal mind, my Phaetyn mind, settled into a corner, and the foreign, instinctual thoughts of the creature I’d become filled my head.

I was Drae. My race was as old as time.

Tyrrik approached with care, hands turned up in a gesture I recognized as deferential. I surveyed him down the length of my snout and decided to let the man touch me, but the decision was calculated. He was a Drae and far more powerful than me. The closer he came, the more I could feel his prowess and strength. Yes, this wasn’t one to anger. If anything, he’d be an excellent mate to provide strong young. My human mind broke out of its tiny corner. Whoa. Mate? Where did that come from? Me and my Drae form needed to get some things settled.

He rested his hand on my foreclaw. You are perfect, Khosana.

You just called me princess. That’s what Khosana meant? He’d been calling me princess this entire time? Do I speak Drae now?

In this form, yes.

My chest puffed out. I was Drae, and my form was perfect. My scales were unflawed lapis lazuli, my fangs were daggers; my tail was a battering ram. But I would not let his pretty words cheat me from the gold. A small part of my mind said I was being weird, the Phaetyn side again; I’d never really cared about wealth. But I really needed a golden trinket. We had a deal, Lord Tyrrik. Teach me to fly, then give me my treasure.

Though the urge to stretch my wings swelled from deep within, I worried. What if I did it wrong?

“We can only practice in this clearing,” he said, pursing his lips in a frown of apology.

I sniffed in disdain.

Tyrrik rounded behind me, and I tensed, instinctively knowing that was my weakest point of defense.

“Shh, Ryn,” he said soothingly. “You know I would never hurt you. I’m just going to show you what it feels like first.”

He took my right wing, and I followed his lead, stretching it out. I arched with pleasure as the breeze danced over my wing, the air causing it to lift.

“You were made to fly, and it will come to you naturally, in the same way you do not consciously inhale after exhaling,” the Drae said. He held onto the end of my wing, slowly lifting and pulling it down. “Can you feel how the air catches underneath when I do this?”

I can, I answered.

“Now pull them down together, both at the same time. Your wings will reflexively lift after a down stroke.”

He stepped around me, eying the drop off the edge of the clearing, then glanced out at the semi-circle of trees about ninety feet back from the edge. “There is not as much room here as I would like, but you’ll get the idea. When it’s safe, I promise, we’ll go for a real flight.”

I’m ready. I strode to the edge of the drop, my steps resounding with my body weight; I was about half the size of Tyrrik’s Drae form by my estimations. I stretched my neck over to survey the drop. It was about one hundred and fifty feet down.

Tyrrik continued muttering advice beside me. “Tuck your legs into your body. Flatten to speed up, and raise your head and tail to slow.”

I rolled my eyes and dropped over the side. His startled yell echoed behind me.

Stretching my wings wide, joy filled me as the current caught and held me, the air billowing beneath my wings. My fall was gently slowed until I was floating. I banked to the right around the semi-circle clearing then pulled my wings tight and stretched them wide, pushing down against the currents. I lifted and lifted until I was in line with the tree tops. The temptation to continue upward and soar into the unknown was nearly overwhelming. I wanted to see how fast I could fly, if I was faster than the other Drae I’d seen streaking through the sky, and if I could go on endlessly—it sure felt like it.

I circled around the clearing another three times, taking the opportunity to flatten myself for speed and arch my neck and tail upward to slow down. I reveled in the knowledge that I was a fearsome beast, powerful and strong, and in flight, I was graceful, even elegant. Flying was a dance, and I was a master.

I did one last lap then decided I was done. The sunlight was irksome, and I really did want my nap. Extending my legs, I landed at the top of the clearing, tucking my wings in as my feet made contact.

Tyrrik’s eyes shone as he practically ran toward me. His smile, a rare thing to behold, was as wide as I’d ever seen it.

I furrowed my brow, concentrating on my body. The air shimmered with blue energy as I shrunk back into my human form, or rather my Phaetyn form. The air cleared, and I glanced down to make sure my clothes were in place before extending my open palm to Tyrrik.

He placed the golden pill box in my hand without a word.

“You know,” I mused. “I thought this Drae business would be harder.”

The Drae cleared his throat before speaking. “We are predators. We need to be able to protect ourselves once we transform. Your powers should come naturally—”

“Should?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“I’m unsure how your Phaetyn blood will affect some elements of your transition,” he admitted.

I nodded, gaze fixed on the golden box. So shiny. This was my greatest treasure. I’d put it in a great spot. The thought halted me. No, it had to go in a secret spot, somewhere no one would find it. My eyes slid to Tyrrik. Would he try to steal it back? I’d need to be careful. No one stole my horde. Even knowing I was being irrational, I couldn’t talk myself out of my obsession with treasure. “I’m going inside now.”

“Okay,” Tyrrik answered.

His tone was odd, and I peered back at him as he drew another object from deep within his aketon. The golden pill box was nothing in comparison to the huge ruby he held.

My chest rose and fell as I fixated on it. “Where’d you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” he said. “Although, I’ll give it to you if you stay for another lesson.”

The ruby was a real treasure. I’d put it in the secret spot, too. I’d take extra, extra care no one found it.

“Just one more lesson?” I asked. My feet were already walking back toward him.

“Just one more,” he agreed with a smile.