“You know how this has to end,” Ragnar says.

“If she won’t do it, you have to,” Drosdan adds. “I’ll take care of it. Give me the word.”

The sound of running water accents their words. We’re standing in front of the fountain, by what used to be City Hall but is now the humans’ headquarters. Being here calls through the fog of my memories, trying to pull them into the light. I can’t give my attention to reminiscing. There are too many things to consider in the present to have time for the past. Humans eye us as they walk past, talking softly with each other, hurrying their steps if their path leads them close to us.

I turn my back on them and watch the water bubbling in the fountain. Once, I dimly recall, water would have been shooting up and splashing down, creating beautiful rainbows. The octagon base is full of water with bubbles around the base of the statue but no streams shooting up. Touching the stone of the containing wall, smooth and cool, it strikes me that I’m at a crossroads.

Rosalind is my treasure. I will do anything to protect her, but what if it’s herself she needs protection from?

Her heart is too big. She loves unconditionally. I don’t think anyone else sees that in her, but I do. She talks about survival and the necessity for the gene pool and such but that’s her cover. The truth is she loves people and doesn’t put a distinction on them. Zmaj to humans, Cenar to Todd, she loves them all.

And it blinds her.

Gershom is a snake, a sismis, hiding in the sand waiting to strike when you least expect. He not only has to be dealt with, it needs to be done with finality. The members of the Tribe see it clearly. Their distrust of him is deep and will keep a wall between them and the City until he is gone.

Rosalind can’t do it, and if she did, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

“We could do it quietly,” Ragnar says, his voice barely above a whisper. “She need never know.”

Ragnar places a hand on my shoulder, compassionate for my feelings. Feelings a Commander cannot show. Straightening up, I step aside, letting his hand drop off me. Meeting his gaze, then Drosdan’s, I make the only decision I can. The one that will protect her from herself.

“No one can ever know,” I say. “This must remain our secret, for the good of the Tribe and the humans.”

Ragnar nods and Drosdan harumphs his agreement.

“I can do it,” Ragnar says.

“Drosdan, you do it,” I say walking away.

Tension clamps my shoulder muscles, making my wings ache. If Rosalind ever finds out, she might never forgive me. I don’t have a choice. This decision is tearing her apart. I have to make it for her.

Walking the streets of the city, I let myself dream of the future. The buildings are in disrepair, many too damaged for use, and the streets are littered with garbage and debris. If we make a concentrated effort, all of this could be fixed. The City could become what it once was. Draconov used to be a major trade center. One of the biggest cities on Tajss.

Funny how memory works. Dim, hazy, but I recall some facts while others are lost to me. Picking one of the tallest buildings close to the center of town, I climb through a broken wall to the inside. Wreckage is strewn about, but I climb over all of it until I find a stairway leading up. It’s difficult to reach my goal. The stairway is collapsed at several points forcing me to leap across gaps. When I reach the roof, there’s a sense of accomplishment.

The suns are dropping to the horizon, the final rays twinkling off the dome with dazzling sparkles. Gazing up through the dome, I spot the first visible stars. One of those bright lights is Krik. If Arcan can’t squash the rumors of Tajss’s survival, invaders from Krik will be here soon. If he does, they’ll be here later.

If nothing else, Rosalind is right in worrying about the future, for that reason if no other. We’re not ready. We’re too few and too divided. It will be the end of both our races if they come. Rosalind and I have to get them ready. Getting Gershom dealt with is the only way forward. I know I did the right thing, for her and for all of us.

Thinking of her makes an ache form deep in my core. I want to be with her. Tearing my eyes away from the stars, I head back to the street.

* * *

The temperature drops when I step inside the building, increasing the tension in my muscles. Doubts try to assail me as I climb my way to Rosalind’s office, but I push them all aside. When I get to the hall outside the Council meeting room, a young human is emerging from Rosalind’s office. Water dripping from her eyes and streaking her cheeks, brow furrowed, frown on her face—something is wrong.

“Hello,” I say. “Are you okay?”

She startles, looking up at me and wiping the moisture from her face with two quick swipes.

“Hello, yes, sorry,” she says trying to step past me.

Shifting my weight, I block her passage. She looks up, arching an eyebrow.

“What is the matter?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she smiles. “Seriously, I have a lot to do—did you need something?”

The pain and upset is gone from her eyes, hidden behind carefully schooled features. It’s clear I won’t be getting any more information from her, so I step out of her way.

“Good roads,” I say.

“Same,” she says, hurrying to the stairwell and disappearing into its dimness.

I walk into Rosalind’s office. She’s sitting behind a large desk from which she looks up and smiles when I enter.

“Visidion,” she says.

The bags under her eyes and the weariness in her smile are all signs of what I already know. She’s not sleeping well. Last night she woke up in the middle of the night, rising and pacing the floor for hours. Certainty fills me that I’ve made the right decision. The weight of Gershom will be removed from her shoulders, and then we will find a new normal, a better one.

“Hello,” I say. “Who was that?”

She looks past me, smile faltering for an instant before locking firmly in place.

“Oh, she had a problem and wanted my help,” she lies.

I see it in her eyes. It crosses her face for an instant but her smile covers it.

“I see,” I smile, letting it go. “So when will this trial be?”

“Two days,” she says, shifting papers on her desk. “Gershom has picked someone to speak for him, which was the last piece to put in place.”

“Why go to so much trouble?” I ask.

She frowns deeply, shaking her head.

“We’ve been over this,” she sighs. “I’ve explained it to you the best I can.”

I hold my hands up before me. “Rosalind, this doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows what he has done. Everyone but you is ready for this to be over. Why drag it out? There is no need for such formality. You are their Commander; your word is law. Do what must be done.”

Her cheeks flush a deep red. Rising to her feet, she places her fists on the desk in front of her, leaning over it towards me.

“No, my word is not law,” she says. “The Tribe may work on a patriarchal hierarchy, but humans don’t. The future I envision for both our people doesn’t. Those who are ruled have to have a say in their futures. Those accused have to have the chance to prove themselves innocent.”

“But he’s not!” I exclaim, exasperated. “Everyone knows it.”

“No, everyone has an opinion. A trial will present facts. We will find the truth, and then he will be dealt with.”

“It’s a long road to get to the same place. Take the short cut.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “That’s exactly it, we can’t. What we do, right now, is setting the path for our future.”

“You have the best interests of all of them at heart,” I argue.

“And if I do? So what? What if whoever comes after me, following in the path I set before us, doesn’t? Or the one after that? What we do matters!”

The fire and passion in her words crash against me like the stirring winds of a sandstorm, but instead of pushing me back they draw me in. My first cock is hard and pounding, demanding attention. The jacket of her suit is unzipped, and the shirt she wears under it is low-cut enough to reveal the creamy white of her cleavage. Hearts pounding in my chest, breath short, I can’t take my eyes off her heaving breasts. Moving towards her, drawn inexorably in, I know from my bones to my scales—she’s my everything.

“Yes,” I answer. “Matters.”

Her eyes drop then widen seeing the tent in my pants straining towards her.

“You’re not listening to me,” she accuses.

“I am,” I answer her. “Every word, every thought. Your passion is my fire.”

When I lean across the desk, my hard cock presses into its cool surface as I take a kiss. Her lips are fire, burning me with her passion. We connect and everything else is gone as wild desire takes us over. One-handed, I undo my pants and let them drop. She crawls over the desk, shedding her jacket. Grabbing her ass, I pull her to me, crushing her against my chest as I try to absorb her into my body.

Together we work her pants off, letting them fall to the floor. When I set her on the edge of the desk, my cock is at her opening. I shove in without preamble. Her wetness welcomes my cock, taking me fully in, and she cries out in surprise and pleasure. Her nails dig into my back as she throws her chin up and lets out a throaty scream.

There isn’t even a semblance of control. Desire rules me. I’m thrusting in and out of her hot, wet tunnel, hammering her like an unstoppable force. Grunting with each thrust in, I take her and she gives herself to me. Her chest rises and falls in time with my thrusts. Her perfect, full breasts, exposed and so enticing, push me closer to an orgasm with each heaving.

Suddenly she arches her back, moaning. Her legs clamp around my waist, holding me deep inside her, then her pussy clamps on my cock and I give myself over. Her wetness milks my dick, sucking it dry, until at last she collapses back onto the desk, panting with eyes closed.

My shallow breaths slowly deepen as my hearts slow their racing beat. My cock softens in her and I pull out, eliciting a groan from her, and myself too as it’s exposed to the cool air of the room. My second cock rises, ready to go, but Rosalind pushes against my chest.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve work to do.”

“Ah,” I say, unable to hide my disappointment.

“Later,” she says with a smile, rising up and kissing me.

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say and kiss her nose lightly.

“Do that,” she says.

“See you tonight,” I say, turning to leave.

“Oh, Visidion?” she asks, pulling my attention back.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she says, mouth a hard line.

Black swirling confusion rocks my mind. She can’t know … it must be something else.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. Surely she can’t mean our lovemaking, can she?

“Send one of your men to handle something I’m already handling,” she says, pulling her pants over her hips and fastening them.

“I—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “I know why you did it. Don’t. Ever again.”

“Rosalind,” I say. “We need to be done with him and focus on the future, like you say. You know what’s out there. We have to get ready.”

“Yes, we do,” she says. “But as I’ve said so many times before, how we do it matters. What we do matters.”

She walks over to me, laying her hands on my chest, staring into my eyes.

“But—”

“No,” she says, placing a finger on my lips. “No buts. You have to trust me. If you don’t, this will never work.”

I can’t argue with the truth in her words. Her soft fingers rest on my lips, her eyes bore into me.

“All right,” I say, giving in.

“Good. I know you don’t agree, but we discussed this. This is the compromise that protects our future. Give me this, please.”

Smiling, she rises on her toes and kisses me. Her tongue seeks out mine, piercing my mouth. When I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, my second cock, ever the optimist, rises again.

“Okay,” I say, regret coloring the swelling sensation in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “I know why you did it.”

“Do you?” I ask, curious.

“Of course,” she smiles. “You love me and want to fix the world, for me. How can I be angry at that?”

Sweeping her off her feet, I twirl her in my arms and extend the kiss until we break, gasping for air.

“I do,” I whisper.

“I know,” she breathes. “And I love you too.”