Talia had liked keeping to her handsome room for a few hours of peace by herself the previous day. Now she hated it. Abhorred it. Instead of enjoying the incredibly rich library at her disposal here, or simply, quietly, thinking of the new world she’d just entered - a world she loved - she stared at the ceiling, playing that kiss, and everything else Vincent had done to her, over and over in her mind. Her legs were crossed tight, her core, boiling, her breasts, heavy, needy.

She knew of this. She knew of lust. She’d read about it. Never had she believed it to be such a heady, unyielding, powerful spell she couldn’t break free of. The way he’d felt there. So thick and hot and big. She bit her lip and blushed. Part of her wanted to stop thinking of it at all. Another part of her…

He’s not far, somewhere close, in the family wing. Just a little locator spell and you could join him…

Her Shadow was the worst influence, ever.

But why not, indeed? She was an adult, with needs she perfectly comprehended, although they’d never been awakened before. Before him. Before his hands and his lips and his cock.

A knock on her door thankfully pulled her from her reverie.

“What have you been up to this morning?” Aleria asked, walking in. “I went to see you before heading towards the clinic with Elza.”

Talia felt her whole body heat up.

“With the Archduke and his wife.” Why she didn’t mention Vincent, she’d never know. “We had tea and spoke of a potential position for me here. They think I could be of use as a mage.”

“From what I saw at the clinic, that’s right. I’ll prioritize seeing to the issue with those births, but it was hell, Tali-bear.”

Her sister looked exhausted. Another thing that had never occurred with the poised, perfect Aleria in their hometown. She had changed so much since their departure - they both had.

“There was a birth today. Xandrie helped Elza. Sister, you should have seen it. The dragonling was moving like no other child I’ve ever seen in his mother’s womb. Writhing like a trapped wild thing. But Xandrie just put her hands on the belly, and talked softly.” There were tears in her eyes. “She just said sweet nonsense and it calmed down. The mom and baby are just fine. She does so well here, but there’s only one of her and a whole Kingdom with dying mothers. This needs fixing.”

“What do you think, then?”

Aleria smiled. “Short term, I’ll have to work on a potion drunk by the mothers to keep their babies quiet before birth. Something that couldn’t harm the child, of course. I’d be of more use if I were an alchemist.”

Talia had to snort. “No one compares to you at crafting potions.”

“In Malek,” Aleria added, rolling her eyes. “But, long term, the root cause needs addressing, too. Everyone says that this development happened a few short centuries ago - the mortality rate was much lower in the past. I talked to that Elder man.” It was Aleria’s turn to blush now.

“Nathos?” Talia supplied.

“Yes, him. We chatted, and came to the conclusion that it could be due to a lack of fresh blood - there are only about twelve original dragon families. By mating with their own kind over the last millennium, they’ve become a little inbred around the edges. He offered to draw a list comparing ‘pure’ dragon lines to those which have been mixed with other shifters and humans, even elves and faes. If it’s clear that only the pure dragon families are affected, we’ll have our answer. It’ll be a matter of studying and correcting the genetic defects. Again, they’ll need a scientist, rather than me.”

And there she was again, dismissing her own importance. Talia’s brows creased - she wondered how often Aleria did that.

“And yet you have, in one day, possibly pinpointed the problem that has plagued their kind for ages. They’ll hire scientists if they need to, oh wise elder sister. For now, I daresay they’re happy to have a good, willing, and talented mage to aid them.”

Aleria reflected on it for a while. “I’m not used to being praised. It feels weird. I don’t think I like it.”

She had to snort. “You get compliments for breathing.”

“I get flattery because of the face I was born with. Not praise for my work.”

Again, probably true. “You know, I used to think Xandrie was the most messed up by our parents, but she actually turned out alright. She just ignored them and went into the woods. I was the canoodled baby.”

“Not to mention the little genius.”

She grimaced. “Yes, that. But I think the one they really did a number on is you. After Damion left, they focused on you…”

“Because I look so much like him.”

They were nearly-identical twins. Damion had never been one to grow a beard, and while he was strong and muscular, he’d remained lithe, rather than bulky, so their resemblance had never faded, despite their different sexes.

“He really isn’t dead, you know. When we were children, perhaps five, before you were born, he had a terrible illness - the plague our parents cured. I recall it so clearly. Damion almost died, and I would have died with him, Talia. They kept us separated so the illness wouldn’t spread, but I knew when he got worse, and I knew when he was healed, well before anyone came to tell me.”

Talia remained silent, listening with all her heart.

“The day Damion disappeared? I felt something big. Huge. It kept me unmoving and frightened for him. Then nothing. No pain, no terror. It’s as if our bond had been muted. A wall erected between him and me. Yet, every now and then, through our bond, I feel something. Great happiness. Great sorrow.” Her voice dropped. “More sorrow than happiness. Something happened to him alright. But he isn’t dead.”

She’d never really dared to believe it until now. Now, there was no doubt. Her sister was no fool, and what she described was nothing short of proof, as far as Talia was concerned. She felt tears running down her face, although she couldn’t recall her heart ever being so full.

Xandrie had always been Damion’s favorite. They shared their love of the outdoors, of weapons and wild, untamed things. But he was theirs - he belonged to all of them as their brother, their blood, the man who’d showed them his sex could be kind and honorable, when no one else had.

“I’m so grateful you got me out of Malek. I was too much a coward, too sheltered to even think I could possibly go gallivanting around the continent. But we did just fine. And by Eartia, once I’m done with this, once the women are safe, I’m going to go find our brother. And slap him for making us all so miserable.”

They chuckled. Then Talia shifted and embraced Aleria, holding her so damn close.

“You won’t be alone. Not any step of the way. I am no use with the science behind spells, but put me to work - I’ll be your slave.” Talia was the best at mixing potions, using spells, and recalling them, too, but creating them? She couldn’t hope to do anything so creative if her life depended on it. She was the scholar, and Aleria, the artist of the family. That would never change, regardless of what title she now bore amongst mages. If her spells could be stronger than Aleria’s, she’d be the one mixing them. But it would still be her sister’s work. “Then, when you’re ready to go find Damion, I’ll…”

“You’ll stay here. You’ll send missives all around the world, to every kingdom, and tell them exactly where you are if they’re in need of you. And you’ll remain, for such is your duty.”

She pouted.

“And if I am in need of your aid, I shall also know where to contact you, little sister.”

That cheered her up.

“Now, you wanna tell me why you’re avoiding talking of the other companion at your tea party?”

They were both laughing when she heard it in the distance, felt it to her bones. The hair at the back of her neck stood and her eyes turned to the west, pulled towards an invisible danger beyond the walls of the castle.

She knew it, down to her essence.

An Enchantress, said her Shadow.

Yes. Yet, it felt like so much more. So much more dangerous and edgy.

You’re light and you let in Shadow. She’s Shadow. Sometimes she listens to light.

Oh. Well, that was bloody terrifying.