Chapter Eight: Henrik

Carefully, Henrik set Dara down on a rocky ledge, which overlooked this large antechamber to his treasury. Then he changed back and pulled her tightly into his arms.

For one moment, he could feel her trembling against him, her fingers digging into his skin as though she still feared she’d fall. But then she pushed him back so that they were facing each other. Dara was pale and her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a fury and determination in them which Henrik had never seen before in his mate.

“Your uncle,” Dara said. “He kidnapped me and dropped me in your maze. You’ve got to be careful, he—”

Henrik gave her a stunned look. “But… why would Alistair do such a thing?”

Dara’s words didn’t make sense. But even so—there was no way she’d be in here if there wasn’t a dragon involved. Henrik realized his expression as he looked down at Dara was doubtful, but at the same time, something about her words rang clearly, horrifyingly true.

“He told me,” Dara gasped, even as she gave the cave a fearful look. “This is probably a trap. He wants you to die. He told me he killed your parents—mixed a drug into their drink after he talked you into going flying where you weren’t allowed!”

Henrik staggered back as though hit by a bullet.

“My uncle?” he asked, his mind reeling. It made no sense… Alistair had always been there for him!

But on the other hand… hadn’t Alistair been all too willing to take over the family business, oh-so-helpfully dealing with all the decisions and investments that Henrik had no longer cared about after his parents’ death?

“I don’t know what his plan is—I think he wanted me to die in the maze. So I decided to go on. It was as if your gold led me onward.” Again Dara looked at the roof of ice above them, as if she expected Alistair to come swooping back in any moment. “Can you shift back and fly us out?”

Henrik hesitated for a moment. He’d shifted three times in such a short span of time now that he wasn’t certain whether he could make it. After all, the reason why he had locked his dragon’s heart away was to keep himself from shifting, because he’d needed to make sure that he’d never again cause harm.

It had used up all of his strength to shift yet again when his dragon’s senses cried out at him that his mate was in danger. He felt ragged now, hollowed out—even with Dara held securely in his claws, every beating of his wings had ached as though he was trying to fly with a mortal wound.

But he needed to get Dara to safety. He had to protect his mate, no matter what.

“We’re close to where my hoard is hidden,” Henrik said roughly, nodding towards a large gate of ice that barred another tunnel in front of them. “There’s something hidden in there among my treasure. We call it the heart of our dragon—the most precious piece of our treasure. Any dragon will keep it as close as possible. Lots of our power is wound up with it.”

“And you locked it away instead?”

Henrik nodded grimly. “To keep myself powerless—or at least, far less powerful. I never thought…” Wordlessly, he shook his head.

His uncle back then had tried to talk him out of it—hadn’t he? Although now all of a sudden Henrik could remember only superficial protest—and then the long years during which his uncle told him that he’d made the right decision.

Henrik smiled with bitterness. “It must have suited him to know that he could take me out in a fight any time he wanted to.”

“We have to get it back,” Dara said urgently, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the gate.

Henrik followed, letting her lead the way as he listened to his dragon’s senses. There was that tingling alarm of knowing that his mate was in danger. It had not left, even though he’d found Dara, and that was reason enough for him to remain on his guard.

But how close was his uncle? Since Alistair was family, Henrik’s dragon never felt the same sense of alarm he’d feel if he’d been an intruder. The land considered Alistair a part of this place, just as much as Henrik was. Now that Henrik concentrated on it, he could still feel the distant awareness that Alistair was somewhere here in his territory—but where? How close?

When they reached the gate of icicles that barred their way, Henrik reached out and rested a hand against the ice. Within seconds, it had melted away, while Dara gasped again in wonder. Still, there was no time to lose. Still holding hands, they ran down the tunnel.

In front of them, there was a gentle glow now. It was barely noticeable, but it still made the dragon within Henrik rear up in possessive joy. He could feel it now: the call of his gold, the hoard of treasure his dragon had gathered. And among it rested the dragon’s heart, the large, flawless diamond, the only one of its kind, and worth millions had it been traded on the open market. To Henrik, it was worth more than all of his family’s fortune.

Until Dara had arrived, it had been his greatest treasure, a jewel he’d have defended with his life. He had carefully cut and polished it himself, a work that had taken weeks to perfect. But in those weeks, his dragon had bonded with the jewel, forming that ages-old connection that only a dragon can form with its hoard. By the end, the diamond had been a part of him as much as his arms or his heart, his dragon’s power focused on the flawless jewel, and amplified by it.

When it was done, he’d at last tapped into the full potential of his power: his dragon’s connection to ice and snow that had allowed Henrik to create this cave of ice, as well as the barriers of icicles and snow storms to protect his secrets from any intruders. Moreover, he’d been considered an adult among dragon shifters, someone who’d fully come into his powers.

No, it was no wonder at all that Alistair had been so supportive of his decision to lock the diamond, and therefore his powers away. This way, Henrik had been no danger to his uncle. But as long as he could recover his treasure before his uncle found them, he’d be able to protect Dara no matter what.

But that also meant that his uncle would do everything in his power to keep them from it…

A sudden gust of cold made his skin crawl. For a moment, the gleam in front of them dimmed, as though a darkness was creeping into the tunnel alongside them.

Alistair.

The black dragon could command darkness in the same way as Henrik could command ice.

“Hurry,” Henrik gasped and pushed Dara forward. “My treasure’s waiting. There’s a diamond in the pile—we need to get to it before my uncle does.”

“How will I—”

“You’ll know it when you see it.” Henrik shuddered, his dragon feeling the darkness that was quickly gaining on them. “My uncle’s coming. Run! Get that stone! I’ll try and stop him!"

Dara opened her mouth as if to protest, but just then a wave of darkness came racing towards them, a cloud of deepest blackness that filled the tunnel from which they’d come. With a look of terror, Dara released his hand and ran.

Henrik turned. They were very close to his hoard now. Two more turns of the tunnel, and Dara would come out into the cave that was filled with gold and silver, jewelry, gemstones, golden plates, and everything else that had taken his dragon’s fancy. Henrik had not visited in the years since he’d locked his powers away with his diamond—but his dragon was attuned to his hoard. In all these years, it had rested here undisturbed. Henrik would have known if anyone had tried to come close.

Is that why he did it? Alistair could never break through my protections, so he made me lead him here and past my ice gates?

The thought was painful. His uncle was all the family he had left—Henrik still didn’t want to believe that he’d betrayed him like this!

But the terrifying darkness that came hurtling towards him was unmistakable. His uncle was attacking. And if Henrik wanted to save Dara, he’d have to find a way to defeat him.

“I know what you’ve done,” Henrik called out into the darkness racing towards him. “This ends here! I won’t allow you to harm my mate!”

With a hissing noise, the darkness drew back as quickly as it had approached. A second later, his uncle came striding towards him, dressed in one of his smart suits, his hair slicked back with gel, as if he was visiting a fancy rooftop bar for a business deal instead of menacing his only nephew.

“This has been a lot of fun,” Alistair said, his eyes cold as he stared at Henrik, “but I think it’s time to finish this now. You know, if you hadn’t gotten so obsessed with that stupid girl, you could have lived here peacefully in your depressing castle until the end of your life.”

“While you weaseled away as much of the family fortune as you could,” Henrik said, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m not stupid. Neither is Dara. You think you can just do whatever you want? That there are no consequences? You killed my parents—”

His voice broke as the old pain rose up in him again, like a wound that had never healed and was suddenly torn open once more. No, even if his uncle had begged him for forgiveness now, he would never be able to forgive that.

“Such a stupid boy you were too,” Alistair mocked. “So predictable. All I had to do was fill your empty head with stories of how much fun your dad and I had playing in all those dangerous updrafts when we were your age. And the next night when your parents were out, you sneaked off to get yourself in danger. Predictable as clockwork. You made this so much easier for me. I should thank you, really.”

Henrik clenched his jaw. “I’ve always wondered,” he said slowly, “why they didn’t just shift when the car fell…”

Alistair’s mouth twitched. “I’m quite proud of that; I’m glad you asked. A genius idea really—have you ever tried to mix dragon drugs with human ones? It was a slight touch of dragonsbane to their skin to keep them from shifting, with just enough ecstasy to keep them a little confused, so that they wouldn’t stop to think about the effect of the dragonsbane on their bodies. Not to toot my own horn, but that was truly one of my better ideas. After that, all I had to do was hide in the mountains and push their car off the road with one flap of my wings. It was almost too easy.”

Rage boiled up inside Henrik once more. For so many years he’d blamed himself for what had happened. And so many years, his uncle had carefully nurtured that guilt and pain to keep him trapped here in this lonely castle.

No more. He’d make sure that Alistair would never hurt anyone ever again.

It might be too late to save his parents, but Alistair’s evil would end in this cave. He wouldn’t allow his uncle to poison the happiness he’d found with his mate.

As if he’d read his thoughts, the form of his uncle began to shift and shimmer. A heartbeat later, Alistair had vanished, and instead, a black dragon stood in his place. The tunnel was large enough that a dragon could scurry forward in it—but not large enough to spread his wings or fly.

With a deep breath, Henrik shifted as well. It had been painful the last time, when he’d had to shift to catch Dara and save her. This time, there was no pain—there was agony. He felt as if his body had been hit by lightning, every bone and tendon sizzling with the torment of shifting when he’d already used up what little remained of his powers.

To shift so often in such a short timespan, with his powers locked away from him in his dragon’s heart stone, might well kill him.

But then, so would his uncle. There was no choice. There was only one thought now: to protect his mate.

And if he had to give his own life to take out Alistair and keep her safe, then that was what he’d do.

Henrik opened his jaws. Just before Alistair could lash out at him, he let out a roar—and more than that. His dragon controlled the ice, just as his uncle could bring forth darkness. Now, with Henrik’s roar, walls of ice shot up from the ground, a giant barrier growing where there had none before, blocking the tunnel between Henrik and Alistair.

While Alistair roared in rage, Henrik began quickly scurrying backward. Every now and then, he paused, focusing on his dragon’s power and his connection with the ice that surrounded him to cause new barriers of ice to burst from the ground. Back in the tunnel, he could still hear his uncle raging. Every now and then, the gleam of the ice was swallowed by sudden bursts of darkness in the distance, accompanied by crashing and splintering sounds.

Alistair was taking his barriers down.

Henrik had always known that they wouldn’t stop him—but he prayed that they would slow Alistair down long enough for Dara to make it out of the tunnel. Already he could feel himself weakening. He dug his claws into the ice, resisting the urge to try and spread his wings in the narrow tunnel, and concentrated on the ground beneath him.

A second later, a new wall of ice rose up. This one did not burst from the ground but rose slowly and tremulously, and Henrik was breathing heavily when it was done.

He didn’t have much strength left. If Alistair broke through this barrier as well…

Just then, as he tried to take another step backwards, his feet met only air instead of the icy floor. For one moment, he nearly stumbled, but then he caught himself and turned. Before him spread the glittering cave of ice that was truly the heart of his home. A ceiling of ice stretched high above. Below him, the ground was covered in treasure.

A heap of golden coins rose, nearly as high as his dragon’s body—and there was so much more than just the gold, which even now sang a sweet song to his dragon’s soul. There were jewels his dragon had jealously hoarded: sapphires, rubies, emeralds and diamonds. There were gem-encrusted plates of silver and golden bracelets. Swords with rubies in their pommel that any museum would kill for, little birds made of platinum and topaz, and a diamond tiara that had once belonged to a French princess and which his grandmother had in turn gifted him.

And there, atop that mound of his treasure, stood a slab of ice. A gentle glow emanated from it, so that the ice sparkled as though it was housing a rainbow.

My dragon’s heart.

Long ago, he’d sealed the source of his dragon’s power within that slab of ice. And now Dara was making her way toward it with determination on her face, fighting her way up the shifting pile of gold and silver.

Dara, he thought, spreading his wings to soar down and help her—but just in that moment darkness came bursting out of the tunnel behind him once more, and with it, his uncle.

Roaring, they toppled through the air together. One of his uncle’s claws slashed open an aching wound along his side before Henrik had gathered himself enough to beat his wings and escape. His uncle followed, roaring and spewing forth more darkness that threatened to scald Henrik’s wings.

Even though his muscles were burning as if they were on fire, Henrik forced himself to beat his wings and shoot up higher into the air, just barely escaping another gust of his uncle’s poisonous darkness.

Henrik’s lungs were on fire, his heart pounding. It felt as though his dragon’s body was fraying at the edges. How much longer could he keep it in the air?

Worse—how much longer before he lost control and shifted back into a human?

If that happened, Dara would be without protection…

The thought was enough to send a last surge of strength through him. He twisted in the air, his powerful body turning, his lungs filling—but his uncle had foreseen his attack.

The black dragon plunged straight into him, and with a roar of pain, Henrik went down.

Alistair’s powerful jaws were closing around one of his legs. In despair, Henrik was beating his wings. He didn’t have enough strength left to carry both their weights, but Alistair refused to let go.

Henrik groaned in pain, certain that any moment, something would have to give—and then the walls of the cave came closer and closer. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t change direction with his uncle’s fangs still digging deep into his leg.

Together, they hit the wall.

Pain pulsed through Henrik. His claws scrambled at the ice, searching for a foothold, anything to break his fall. His dragon was crying out for the ice to support him once more—but only silence answered.

Then Henrik fell. He felt strangely light, as though having used up all of his power he was little more than an empty vessel now, burned up and useless. There wasn’t even enough strength left to try and flap his wings.

He felt a moment of tired satisfaction when he caught a glimpse of his uncle falling as well. One of Alistair’s wings looking strangely twisted, as though the impact of their crash against the wall had broken it.

Maybe the fall will kill him. Maybe Dara will be safe, even if I’ve lost…

Dara. The thought restored enough strength to him to crane his neck, even as he toppled towards the ground.

Dara was standing atop his pile of treasure, battering uselessly at the large slab of ice. Around her lay several dented golden plates. Sunlight was sparkling on her as she lifted the bejeweled sword to hack away at the ice that protected his dragon’s heart stone.

Dara looked beautiful. Even now, when he feared that he was plunging towards his death, the sight of her took his breath away and made his heart sing.

What a fearless mate he had. In another time and age, when dragons had lived openly among humans, she wouldn’t have been a helpless princess to be rescued. No—she would have been a proud queen. And he would have laid all of his treasure at her feet, together with his heart.

Then Dara turned her head. For one moment, their eyes met. The sudden, bewildering connection, which had sizzled between them since the very first time he’d seen her, sprung up once more.

Dara’s eyes widened as she saw him fall. Her fingers lost their grip on the sword. Henrik watched as the blade toppled to the ground, landing among the golden coins with a clatter.

Still looking at him, Dara reached out blindly—and where her hand met the ice, it melted away.

Within him, his dragon was roaring with joy as the ice that had always followed his command recognized his mate and gave way to her, as though they’d already bonded.

Henrik could feel the moment her fingers closed around the perfect diamond he’d polished for so many weeks. Heat rushed through him, a pulsing stream that filled his tired muscles with sudden life.

For half his lifetime, the diamond had been locked away. For half his lifetime, his dragon had been parted from this focus of his power.

Now, all at once, that power came rushing back, filling him until he was bursting with it.

With a roar of fury, Henrik spread his wings, halting his fall. Below him, his uncle was doing the same, already recovering even though he still didn’t have full command of his injured wing.

Their eyes met—and then Alistair turned his head.

He wasn’t targeting Henrik. Instead, he was facing Dara now, his jaws parting. All of Henrik’s terror and fear for his mate came together.

Henrik opened his own mouth. The ice-cold power that had been coiling through him, filling him with strength, now came bursting out of him, together with a roar that shook the cave. A stream of ice hit his uncle, covering his entire body within a heartbeat, from the tip of his tail to his cruel jaws, freezing him in place just as he was about to spew a cloud of his poisonous darkness at Dara.

For a moment, the black dragon hung motionless in the air, turned to ice by the power of Henrik’s dragon.

Then he fell. It was a short fall, but when he hit the ground, the ice covering the large body shattered with a ringing sound that vibrated through the cave, thousands of little shards of ice scattering through the air. Dara covered her face with her arms while Henrik watched, his powerful wings spread protectively as he hovered above her.

Little by little, the rain of ice shards ceased. The cave returned to silence.

The black dragon wasn’t moving, and after a moment, he shimmered and turned back into the human form of Alistair.

Quickly, before his uncle could regain consciousness, Henrik reared up once more. A stream of ice hit the ground until a prison had formed around his uncle. It would not hold Alistair forever—but with his uncle weakened, and with Henrik in full possession of his power once more, his uncle would be trapped at least for a day or two.

He’d have to contact someone to take care of Alistair. His uncle had broken the law, after all, and he didn’t want him to remain here, even as a prisoner.

Although Henrik hadn’t talked to other shifters in ages, there was still distant relations he could count on. The black dragon was too dangerous to remain free; other dragons would agree with that.

Henrik’s heart was still racing in his chest, the power burning so bright within him that for a moment, he began to fear that his uncle was right, that he had unleashed a terrible monster within himself—but then his gaze fell on Dara once more.

Dara was smiling up at him. Dara wasn’t afraid.

She was still holding his diamond in her hand, and now she gently raised it up for him to see.

“I think this is yours,” she said, and then she began to laugh until she had to sit down in the pile of golden coins. “Your uncle got it wrong. I’m not a gold-digger at all—I think this makes me a diamond-digger!”