The Seed.

The scent discarded Percipia’s inhibitions and obliterated her doubts.

The longer she smelled the Seed, the more it drove her crazy. She had to claim it and do so as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Bond seemed to share her urgency. They kissed all the way up the stairs even though Percipia stumbled more than once. If she hadn’t known the way, she might have fallen. She had her eyes closed and her arms around Bond’s neck, her mouth locked on his. Or was his mouth locked on hers? Either way, she was consumed with the feel of him and the taste of him. She wanted her hands on him, his skin against hers, and didn’t care about anything else.

Her concerns about his scars and what they might imply about his true nature were incinerated in the heat of the need fed by the Seed. Her questions about who was following him and why, as well as what he might have done that meant someone wanted him dead, were submerged beneath the wave of her desire.

They passed the upper floor of the house, where Percipia knew Sansor and his father lived. The door to one bedroom was closed and she recalled that his father was sleeping. She felt a twinge of guilt to be behaving so wantonly in the home where she had always been welcomed, then knew that Sansor’s father would understand the compulsion that drove her. The sight of that closed door, though, reminded her that there was more than Bond’s touch in the world.

When she’d claimed the Seed, there wouldn’t even be that. This was a fleeting madness, one that should be made as brief as possible—even though it was wonderful. How sweet it would have been to be able to savor a courtship in the glow of the Seed’s scent, to make the experience last so that all the pleasure was wrung from it.

But that was the stuff of fairy tales and matches meant to endure, of HeartKeepers winning their destined mates. There was nothing romantic about her match with Bond.

He was being hunted. Would they even survive long enough for her to succeed? Again, she felt that conflict between the demand of her nature and the social expectation of being a guest.

On some level, Percipia recognized the peril of her situation. In the aura of the Seed, she was unconcerned with her own safety, her senses attuned to Bond and greedy for every impression she could claim of him.

This had to be resolved.

Once she had the Seed, then Bond could leave, his attackers would follow, and Percipia could retreat to the palace to bear their child in safety and tranquility.

They reached the attic and Bond kicked the door shut behind them, without breaking his kiss. It was a simply furnished space, with dark wooden floors polished to a gleam and sloped white ceilings on four sides. A large window faced the street in front of the shop, though there was only silence from the sleeping city. The flat roof was a massive skylight, offering a view of the star-studded night sky. Percipia had always liked that from this vantage point, it was impossible to see the shuttles ascending to and descending from the Star Station.

At the sight of the large bed, Percipia recalled that ill-fated afternoon with Sansor. She and Sansor had stared up at the skies and speculated on what it would be like to live on a planet without star travel, without the notion of the universe being a populous and varied place. She thought it would lead to intolerance, while he thought it would create confidence. They had argued, and not just because he had kissed her that day.

She pushed the memory from her thoughts and kissed Bond instead. It was refreshing to have no agenda or scheme, no competing notions of what would happen afterward.

There would just be their union and no more.

Percipia wanted nothing more.

Driven by the Seed and her own sense of urgency, she tore open Bond’s uniform. She ran her hands across his bare chest, then over his shoulders, pushing off the garment. He felt solid and warm, and she doubted the suggestion that he was an angel all over again.

His hands swept over her, sure and strong, pushing aside her tunic, then glanced down in admiration. His eyes seemed to glow and his slow smile only heated her blood more. “You are beautiful, Diverta,” he murmured with an awe that made her feel lovely and a bit shy. His admiration seemed to change the stakes, to make it emotional and not pure biology, and she both liked that and distrusted it. She wasn’t sure how to proceed.

It seemed that everything with this man awakened two opposing influences. Percipia, who never doubted her choice or her path, found it disconcerting.

It would be good when they parted.

Even though she already suspected she would miss him. She reached for him again, wanting to have this task behind her, the scent of the Seed diminished in power, and her own clear thinking restored by the claiming of the Seed.

“Why the hurry?” he asked and she spared him an incredulous glance.

“Don’t you want to hurry?”

“No. I feel your urgency, but I want to savor this.” He reached to unfasten her top. He eased the fastener open slowly, kissing every increment of flesh as it was revealed.

Percipia was both impatient for him to hurry and swept away by sensation. “We should be quick,” she managed to say.

“I think we should linger over pleasure,” he replied, sliding his tongue across her nipple.

“We should just get it done,” she said, hearing the strain in her voice. She needed to claim the Seed! “We can do it slowly the next time.”

“What if there is no next time?” Bond asked, his attention to her nipples distracting Percipia from her own sense of urgency. He pushed open her tunic and eased it over her shoulders, bracketing her waist with his hands. She looked into his eyes and was captivated by their sparkle. “What if there is only this one time? What if there is no tomorrow?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Isn’t it better to linger in the moment and savor what we have, instead of assuming there will be more?”

Percipia didn’t know what to say to that. Bond kissed her with possessive thoroughness, leaving her aching for more. “Do you eat as if food is just fuel for your body?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” Percipia admitted.

He pulled back, surprised, then ran a fingertip across her lips. The touch made her shiver deep inside and she couldn’t pull away. “Haven’t you ever lingered over the pleasure of a meal?”

“Not often.”

“Over the power of intimacy?”

She shook her head. “No. This goes there and it’s done. I don’t have a lot of patience for it, actually.”

Bond smiled slowly and his hands locked around her waist again. “Then I have something to teach you, Diverta,” he whispered. “Come and take a lesson from me in enjoying the pleasures of the flesh.”

She had no chance to reply because he kissed her again.

Percipia chose to welcome his kiss and his lesson. She did like the weight of his hands on her skin and the surety of his caress. And the claiming of the Seed should be memorable. She closed her eyes again, trying to appreciate every bit of this sensation, and found herself on the bed. Bond was angled on top of her and she smiled to see him silhouetted against the stars. She recalled Sansor’s comment of angels being from a celestial realm in the sky and might have asked him if it was true, but he silenced her with another thorough kiss.

It took half of forever and Percipia was surprised to discover that she liked that just fine. He rained kisses across her cheek to her ear, then made her laugh when he blew on the sensitive skin there. She closed her eyes again when his lips were on her neck, when he grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

When his fingers slid between her thighs. Percipia gasped then he eased his fingertips inside her, his thumb creating a wicked riot of pleasure.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, hearing her usual practicality. “I’m ready.”

“I’m not,” he replied lazily and began to use his fingers as well.

Percipia heard herself moan and felt him ease lower, his lips on her breast, her nipple, the other nipple, her belly. His hands were on her breasts, then her waist, then her hips.

She arched her back in pleasure when his mouth closed over her and his tongue flicked against her. She didn’t know where his hands were and didn’t care. She parted her thighs and arched her back, welcoming all the pleasure he had to give.

Bond gave her plenty.

Sansor listened, leaning his back against the door to his father’s bedroom. His father slept, the sound of his breathing raspy in the small space. He could hear the rumble of voices in the kitchen and knew that the angel was awake. He heard Percipia and her Carrier climb the stairs and shut the door of the attic room.

There was silence then and he opened the door slightly.

He heard Percipia moan. It was a sensual sound, a sound of desire and yearning and need that he could have made himself.

All he had ever wanted was longevity, if not immortality, that he might complete his lessons and put his knowledge to work. He wanted to know everything and that would take time, far more time than he would live. He saw it in his father, a brilliant and wise man who still complained that he had read only a fraction of the works he wished to study.

When Percipia had befriended him, Sansor had dared to hope that there might be a solution. When he fell in love with her, it had seemed more than possible. To become her HeartKeeper was his most fervent dream, to sip from the cup of longevity and have centuries to perfect his craft.

But he wasn’t her Carrier of the Seed. He’d hoped for the duration of their friendship that she wouldn’t have one in his lifetime if it wasn’t him. Instead, that man had not only appeared, but had needed Sansor’s help. He hadn’t been able to decline, not when Percipia asked, but he hated this Bond with all his heart and soul.

How could a fallen angel be given Sansor’s only dream?

How could he not treasure it?

Percipia would seduce Bond, and it would probably happen soon. Sansor had studied the phenomenon thoroughly, hoping to find a way to become the Carrier of her Seed himself.

Bond didn’t love Percipia and Percipia didn’t love him. Sansor knew she had to fulfill her obligation to her kind, but would there be hope for him after she conceived?

The chances were very, very small, given the historical record, but would be much improved with Bond out of the way.

Sansor closed his eyes at the sound of the lovers’ urgency above. Percipia’s low laughter making his fists clench at his sides. He gazed at the ceiling as he heard them fall onto the narrow bed there together.

He doubted the seduction would take long.

He awakened his device with a sweep of his fingertips, easily finding the notification he’d seen earlier. The image showed the face of the man he’d helped. The Star Station police were seeking him, regarding the sudden departure of the Archangel.

Sansor tapped in a message, declaring that the fugitive had been wounded and taken refuge in the attic of the apothecary.

He paused, then added that the fugitive had taken the royal princess Percipia captive.

Then Sansor sighed. It had been so easy to betray his beloved.

But then, his dream was in ashes, and he had so very little left to lose.

Bond coaxed Diverta to the height of pleasure. It was easy to do, because she was so responsive and passionate. He loved that she shouted with her release with such abandon.

He had the strange sense that it might have been the first time for her and didn’t want to think about how that could be.

Instead, he’d do it again.

He gave her a moment to catch her breath then caressed her with his fingertips, easing the tip of his finger inside her slowly. Once again, she responded immediately and with enthusiasm, her lips parting and her eyes closing in pleasure. Bond smiled and continued slowly, deliberately, intent on securing a place in her memories.

All the time he wondered. How long has she been earning her way as a siren? How many partners had she had? Bond wanted to stand apart in her memories and be one partner she remembered forever.

He didn’t mind if he raised her expectations either.

“Not again,” she murmured, a thread of longing in her voice. “It’s not possible.”

Bond almost scoffed aloud. “It’s very possible. Let me show you.” He bent and kissed her slowly, replacing his fingertip with his tongue.

She moaned softly in reply, melting beneath his caress.

Bond whispered against the softness of her thigh. “The question is only whether the second time is better or the first.”

“I want you,” she whispered and reached for him. Bond evaded her touch. He wanted to see her find her release again first.

“After the third time,” he countered, then grazed her gently with his tooth.

“You’re wicked,” she whispered, writhing on the bed. Her skin was flushed and her eyes shone when she glanced at him. Her lips were parted and her hair tousled. He was certain he’d never seen such a seductive woman in his mortal days.

“That, Diverta, has always been the problem.” He grinned and when she might have asked a question, he kissed her again and felt her shudder with need. He took his time coaxing her response the second time, enjoying how her body revealed her enthusiasm. Had she really shimmered earlier? Or had that been an optical illusion? A trick of his own exhaustion? Gravity, he knew, affected some individuals in strange ways after a long time amongst the stars.

Diverta arched off the bed and cried out, her legs locking around him as she found her release. She rocked back and forth and trembled, then shook as the tide passed through her.

Then she exhaled and smiled at him, her eyes shining. “The second time was definitely better,” she whispered. “Although the first was good, too.” Her smile could have illuminated the room.

She beckoned to him, but Bond left the bed and went to the small bathing area at one side of the room. It was clean and the water was hot. He found soap and a thick towel.

He washed, intending to give her a few moments to recover before he pleasured her again. He also savored this pleasure, knowing it might be the last time he was able to wash at leisure. There was a large mirror above the sink and he watched Diverta roll to her stomach. She was still nude, but propped her elbows on the bed and braced her chin on her hands to watch him.

Bond bristled a little, but knew that was foolish. She’d already seen his scars.

He studied her in the mirror. He could see the shadow between her breasts and the curve of her buttocks. Her hair spilled over her back like a dark river against the pallor of her skin. She bent her knees and kicked her feet idly, looking very contented as she watched him. She looked both young and careful, and more alluringly feminine than any woman he’d known.

Bond had time to smile at the contrast before she startled him with her words.

“Do you miss flying?” she asked, her voice drowsy.

Bond pivoted to face her in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Do you miss flying?” she repeated. Bond’s heart clenched but her gaze was steady. She raised her brows. “Soaring and gliding.”

His heart clenched in terror. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quickly, then checked the charge on his laze. He was trying to ignore her and it didn’t work. He was keenly aware of her, the vivid blue of her gaze, the way she watched him without blinking, the sharp prickle of her attention. He doubted that she missed any of his discomfiture.

“I’m talking about your scars,” she continued. “The ones from the removal of your wings.”

Bond caught his breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted easily and got up. She walked toward him, hips swinging. “But Sansor does. He has a book with a drawing of an angel, one that was fallen.”

Bond watched her approach, transfixed, and turned as she began to wash herself. Her tone was almost idle, as if she mentioned something of little relevance or import.

Instead of his nature.

His secret.

“It says they found him dead, but he had scars, just like you do. I saw the drawing. And it lists the names of the angels, too.”

“What was his name?” Bond asked. The dead angel wouldn’t have completed his mission. He wouldn’t have had his wings restored. He would have been forgotten by the Host, lost in the mortal realm as if he had never existed. The truth of it made Bond fear for his own future.

He’d been warned about angel hunters who wanted his kind as trophies.

Was that why Diverta had brought him to this place?

“I don’t know, but then, you’re sure I don’t know what I’m talking about anyway.” She gave him a sharp look, then sighed when he didn’t respond. “I didn’t know angels were so organized. All those legions and armies. It’s amazing.” She watched him, but Bond kept his expression impassive. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t even think angels existed.” She reached out a finger to touch his chest before she smiled. “But you’re very real.” She moved closer, replacing her fingertip with her lips, and Bond felt desire surge within him again. “Was that a taste of paradise?” she whispered against his flesh and he heated to his toes.

Temptation had always been his weakness, after all.

Bond put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back, ensuring that there was a space between them. It didn’t help his resolve that her eyes had darkened and her lips had softened. “Where’s the book?”

“In the kitchen.” She reached for him again. “What about that third time?”

“Maybe there won’t be one.” He cast her a look. “Maybe tomorrow won’t come.”

“But I have to have you,” she said with force. Her eyes flashed. “There has to be a third time and a mating.”

Bond was struck by her choice of words, but attributed it to the culture of Incendium—or the slang of sirens. Once again he felt the press of time—and that conflict of needing to do two different things simultaneously, to follow two separate courses that led in opposite directions. “There were a lot of books in the kitchen. Which one was it?”

She studied him for a moment, then turned to dress again. “I’ll get it for you, since you’re so interested.” She didn’t move as quickly as he might have liked.

“What else did the book say about angels?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t read it all.” She tied back her hair and eyed him. “I was worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t have been.”

“I still am. Are you hungry?”

“No.” But he was and she might have seen it in his expression.

She lifted his laze from his hand, considered the charge, then held his gaze for a moment. “Just in case,” she mouthed and he wondered if she thought they’d been overheard.

He was scanning the room for monitoring devices when she left and saw only her retreating figure. He could see that shimmer around her figure as she descended the stairs, although she didn’t make any sound. How did she manage that?

Was she a spy of some kind?

Or a thief?

Bond had no idea. He was concerned by how badly he wanted to know, and it wasn’t just because her truth might influence his own safety and mission.

He was curious about Diverta.

That was dangerous.

When she’d disappeared from view, Bond sat down on the bed and put his hand upon his injured shoulder. He couldn’t detect any monitoring devices, so he had to act while Diverta was gone. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the wound to heal quickly, pouring his concentration into the cut. Healing was the only gift he retained from his angelic truth, though he’d never used it on himself.

He hadn’t used it much at all in the mortal realm, because he feared that it would reveal his nature.

Or lead to questions he couldn’t answer.

No one was going to see him naked again, though.

He felt the flesh knitting together and the muscles healing. He felt the typical warmth emanating from the wound, and his own exhaustion rising. He chose a balance point between his own energy and the state of his wound, hoping he’d kept enough strength while ensuring sufficient repair to his mortal vessel.

Choices. Balance. Was that what mortals dealt with all the time? Bond hated it. He wanted everything all at once and hadn’t been accustomed to waiting.

Much less sacrifice.

He paced the width of the attic and back when he was done, trying to make sense of his own feelings. This sense of conflict regarding Diverta was new, of wanting to be with her but needing to leave her behind, of wanting her to go but worrying about her as soon as he couldn’t see her, of wanting to ensure her pleasure before his own...

Bond came to an abrupt halt. Sansor was in the doorway, proving that Diverta wasn’t the only one who could move silently.

It was no surprise to Bond that there was hostility in the other man’s eyes, but Bond hadn’t made Diverta what she was. She’d been a siren when they met. Had she known Sansor before that?

“How can you bear it?” he asked before Sansor could speak.

“Bear what?” The larger man folded his arms across his chest.

“To watch the woman you love earn her living as a siren?” Bond shook his head and turned away from the other man’s obvious pain. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand aside and let her do as she desired, much less let her do it in my home...”

He felt the weight of a hand land on his uninjured shoulder, then Sansor spun him around. He saw the fury in the other man’s eyes, then Sansor punched him in the face.

Bond thought he heard his nose crack.

He staggered backward, his hands cupping his nose as the blood streamed over them.

“She is no siren!” Sansor said, his voice low with fury. His eyes were blazing and his hands were clenched into fists. He leaned closer, as if fighting against his own urge to kill Bond with his bare hands. Bond backed up, thinking a little distance might help in that endeavor. Then Sansor continued, his words stopping Bond cold. “She is the fifth daughter of King Ouros and a royal princess of Incendium!”

Bond stared at the furious man before him. There was no question that Sansor was telling the truth—or what he thought was the truth.

A royal princess?

“She is?” he asked, knowing his doubt showed.

So did Sansor’s conviction.

That would make her Anguissa’s sister, Bond realized, and dread rose hot within him. Was that why she’d approached him at the club? Did Anguissa suspect what he’d done to the nav system of the Archangel?

If so, Bond had to hope this man would kill him first.

But then, why would a royal princess act like a siren?

“But why—” he began to ask, fearing that the answer was as a favor to Anguissa.

“How can you treat her like a whore?” Sansor demanded and pursued Bond with fury in his eyes.

Bond retreated, only just remaining out of Sansor’s reach. “Why did she act like a whore?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

The eight women must have all been her sisters. They must have all been royal princesses. But that still made no sense.

“Because of the Seed,” Sansor hissed and raised his fist again.

“Sansor!” Diverta chided from the doorway. “How dare you assault the Carrier of the Seed?”

The Seed? The Carrier of the Seed? What were they talking about?

Sansor hesitated and looked at Diverta. “Haven’t you had what you needed from him?” he demanded. “All that noise! I thought you coupled twice.” His expression revealed his opinion of that. “When once would have been enough.”

Diverta blushed and her gaze danced to him and then away again. Bond realized that their reference to the Seed meant exactly what he thought it meant.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, looking flustered. “There’s no cause for violence...”

“There is, because if I don’t hit him now, I’ll miss my chance forever.”

“Sansor!” Diverta said, as if shocked. Then her expression changed and her grip tightened on the book she carried.

She was shimmering and Bond rubbed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t be imagining it. Her voice dropped low and her eyes glittered. She looked dangerous and he was glad she was staring at Sansor. She took a step toward the other man, menace emanating from her in waves. “You didn’t betray me,” she said with precision, her tone implying that she knew he had.

What had Bond missed? He listened but heard nothing.

He went to the window and looked, but the street was still empty below.

“No, I didn’t betray you,” the apothecary’s son said with vehemence. “I protected you!”

Bond heard a heavy knock from far below. A knock on metal. There had to be someone in the underground passageway, demanding admission to the cellar and storeroom. The sound came again, echoing through the house, making the walls vibrate.

Maybe it was more than a knock. Maybe it was a battering ram.

Then someone shouted, demanding admittance in the name of an authority. Bond didn’t have to look to know that the street wasn’t empty anymore.

He turned to Diverta, who seemed to be furious, but she was glaring at Sansor.

He realized a little late that she had his laze.

Sansor went to the window, opened it, and leaned out. “It’s open,” he called. “He’s here.” He glanced over his shoulder then, his expression filled with satisfaction and hostility.

Bond swore thoroughly. Even if he could make it past Diverta and down the stairs, there was no exit from the building. The authorities were out front and in the underground passageway. The Gloria Furore were probably out there, too, just in case he evaded the police.

He pivoted to Diverta. “I do miss flying,” he said with heat. “Especially right now.”

She smiled.

She shimmered more brightly.

And then she proved that she had a great deal more in common with Anguissa than Bond had realized.

She tossed the book at him and he caught it, then she cast him the laze, too. Bond caught that just as she shifted shape, becoming a red and gold dragon so massive that she broke through the roof of the building.

“Percipia! No!” Sansor cried but she breathed a spurt of flames in his direction, her eyes flashing with fury.

“Don’t tempt me, Sansor,” she snarled as he retreated with obvious reluctance. He was unharmed, but wary of her.

And rightly so, in Bond’s view. Betraying a dragon shifter was a bad choice.

Percipia smiled at Bond and bent toward him. He wasn’t sure what to expect and hoped those two orgasms tipped the balance in his favor.

They did.

She snatched up Bond without hesitation and leaped into the air, her massive wings beating hard as she rose into the skies. A shot was fired past her, almost singeing one wing, and she breathed a torrent of fire down toward her assailants.

“It’s the princess Percipia!” Sansor shouted at the authorities gathered in the street below. “Hold your fire, please!”

It didn’t matter then because the princess Percipia soared into the sky, well beyond the range of their weapons, Bond tucked against her gleaming gold chest. Bond tipped his head back, welcoming the feel of the wind in his hair, the sense of power and freedom—even though it was her power and not his. He felt unconstrained for the first time in a long time, and the change was welcome.

She was a dragon shifter princess.

She was Anguissa’s sister.

And it said something about Bond’s recent experience that he was glad to be back on familiar ground, so to speak.

“Anywhere in particular?” she asked, her voice vibrating against him.

“Away and then out of sight,” Bond said. He saw her look down at him, saw that her eyes were just as bright a blue in this form. He smiled that he could see the princess in the dragon, an echo of her posture in this regal creature, and certainly more than an echo of her beauty and strength.

“Are you going to tell me your destination, or just how you’d like to get there?”

“A vehicle,” Bond replied. “It was my plan to rent a vehicle, probably at the port, one capable of short airborne flights.”

“You’ve got one,” she replied with humor. “Although I wouldn’t consider myself to be stolen.”

“A less conspicuous solution would be better. I could steal one if you put me down where there are many of them.”

She laughed then, a sound so joyous that he couldn’t help but smile. “You know my terms,” she said softly.

“Tell me,” Bond said, wanting to be absolutely clear.

“You are the Carrier of the Seed. I need the Seed.”

“Why?”

“To conceive a child, my child.”

The truth was so elegant and simple, but still it shocked Bond. A child. He felt a new yearning then and a new opportunity.

“What if I don’t want to father a child?”

“It will be nothing to you, nothing but pleasure.” Her tone hardened. “For my kind, the Seed comes only once in our long lifetime. We consider it our obligation to breed when the opportunity arises.”

But Bond would be gone. “There’s nothing I can contribute, beyond the Seed itself.”

“Does it matter?” She spared him a glance even as her wings beat harder to gain altitude. The Algor Mountains rose before them, looking forbidding and cold even at this angle. “My child will be raised in the palace of Incendium and granted every opportunity, as befits one of the royal family.”

Her assumption that he had only one thing to contribute was annoying, especially as Bond himself felt powerless and didn’t like it. “It would be our child,” he corrected with a heat that surprised even him. “If I surrendered the Seed.”

“Won’t you?”

Bond shook his head, not wanting to be hasty. “I’m not sure. I’ve never thought about creating a child, much less my responsibilities.”

“I didn’t have to tell you the truth,” she noted and he realized it was true.

“I’m glad that you did. Thank you.”

She nodded, as if understanding that he needed time to think about the revelation. With a graceful beat of her wings, they soared even higher and he shivered at the chill in the air.

“Sedula,” she said almost exhaling the word.

Bond understood that was the name of a place. He tapped into his own personal device and learned that it was an industrial city, outside the capital of Incendium.

“By the time we arrive, the commuters will be parking their vehicles at the station,” she continued. “After they leave for work in Incendium city, no one will notice one vehicle missing until tomorrow evening.”

“Perfect,” Bond said because it was. Although he always worked alone—or had since taking flesh—there was something very satisfactory about having this dragon shifter princess as his partner.

He shivered again then, and she curled her claw around him, nestling him against her mailed chest. It was surprisingly warm. He could hear the steady rhythm of her heart and see the silhouette of her wings, beating against the starry sky. Below stretched the last lights of the city, a sleeping residential neighborhood.

He could discern the Earth Gate where the road left the city and narrowed slightly. His map noted that this road led to the mining town of Sicca, although it also provided access to Sedula. He held Sansor’s book tightly and realized that of all the places he had been in the mortal realm, this one—being carried toward the mountains and darkness by a red and gold dragon shifter princess—was the closest to being magical.

And then, lulled by the rhythm of her flight, the exertion of running and the strain of healing his own wound, Bond fell asleep.

There was only the echo of the wind in the night and the distant hum of the shuttles from the star station. Most people couldn’t hear their vibration, but Percipia could. She also heard a flutter of wings behind them, although she couldn’t catch a glimpse of whoever pursued them.

Feathered wings.

It wasn’t a dragon.

Percipia flew to the east, toward the Earth Gate, which defended the road to Sedula and also to the distant mining town of Sicca. The last of Incendium city was below her, the road winding toward Sicca before her and the Algor Mountains rising sharply to the left. She was invigorated by the cooler air that blew out of the mountains but also felt her muscles pumping with the effort of flying higher. The stars seemed brighter and there were shadows in the distance.

She heard the flutter again and looked back. She couldn’t see anything and wondered if her ears deceived her.

No sooner had she carried on than the whisper of feathers sounded again. This time, Percipia thought a part of the sky looked wrong, like it blocked her view. She turned slightly to the south, so that the line of shuttles would be visible in that location. Sure enough, her view of them was blocked in that one zone.

Percipia didn’t believe in spells or magic, but she knew there were reflectors that could hide something or someone in the right circumstances. Her pursuer didn’t want to be seen.

She pretended not to have noticed, but wondered who it might be. More assailants chasing Bond? It couldn’t be the triped, and she doubted it was the man she’d injured so badly. She wasn’t even sure he’d survived. She glanced down at Bond, sleeping in her grasp, and thought he looked wary even in sleep.

What kind of creature had feathered wings and could fly at the same speed as her? The sound was always the same distance away. It couldn’t be a bird. There weren’t any so large that she knew of. Was it an angel? One of Bond’s own kind keeping watch over him?

Percipia didn’t know and she wouldn’t wake him to ask. With that shoulder injury, sleep would be best for him. She flew on, reconsidering her plan, and wished she knew the details of his plan.

Incendium city was located in the middle of the largest land mass on the planet of Incendium and sited there by design. Unlike many other planets, Incendium had been thoroughly explored, mapped, and cultivated. There were no wild regions on Incendium: every region had been assessed and put to its best use. The high plateau, protected by the Algor Mountain range to the north, had been identified as the best location for a major city very early. The royal palace had been built at the exact center of the plateau, with major roads emanating from it in the four cardinal directions. The natural barriers around the plateau had been fortified and gates built on each of the roads to defend the city.

To Percipia’s left and behind her slightly, the Ice Gate defended the road that headed to the tiny artistic enclave of Gela. This road was smaller than the other three and less well-traveled. This quadrant of the city was quieter, with parks and large residences. The many streams that fed the River Nebula flowed out of the mountains beyond this part of the city, although now they were constrained in canals made of stone and metal and not natural passageways. The River Nebula itself began at the palace, the streams joining to create a cold moat around the palace walls that then flowed to the south.

To Percipia’s right was the Water Gate, defending the great road that wound toward the coastal city of Merra, where the aquaculture industry was concentrated. Wild fishes of Incendium were also harvested there, and all products of the sea were packed and processed. Between Incendium and Merra, the plateau descended into rolling countryside, where the days were long and sunny, and the soil was fertile. Market gardens prospered in this region, providing fresh produce to the city. There was an active market in Merra, where both fish and produce were bought and sold, and Merra was a noted culinary destination. There were many guilds headquartered there, where artisans and apprentices learned or perfected their skills.

The River Nebula wound south to the east of the great road, ultimately reaching distant Mola, a town surrounded by fields of waving grain and filled with busy mills. Mola was a refuge for rebels and outcasts, and a site renowned for its brewing. It was said to have an active market in dreamweed, that substance outlawed by King Ouros but easily acquired throughout Incendium all the same.

The road directly behind Percipia led to the Air Gate and beyond that, to the humid coastal region surrounding the town of Schola. The universities and colleges were located in Schola, along with a vibrant night life and music community. There were think tanks in Schola, innovative companies, a younger population, and an active arm of the government intent upon interrupting industrial espionage. Of all the cities on Incendium, Schola had the highest concentration of dragon shifters.

Between the road to Schola and that to Gela, there was another road in Incendium city, one that had been added later. It led to the star station, where shuttles launched to and landed from the star port orbiting above. Between the star station and the city itself was the diplomatic quarter, with embassies and consulates in a wide variety of construction styles. The Star Gate sealed that quarter outside the city walls, and the military barracks were located between the Star Gate and the city.

Percipia was well aware that the city slept beneath them. There were no Starpods aloft and the road below was quiet.

She and Bond could have been alone.

Except for that periodic sound of feathers.

As Bond slept and the distance passed beneath them, Percipia found her questions about him multiplying. She wondered whether he knew anything about the sudden departure of Anguissa’s ship—or whether it had been Anguissa who had made the choice. She wondered what he had done to be hunted, and where he was going. She wondered why he hesitated to surrender the Seed, as if he had doubts. She could respect that a man might want to be an active parent, but that was unnecessary in this case.

She indulged herself in taking deep breaths of the scent of the Seed and found that it invigorated her in more than one way.

She felt warm. Tingling. Vital.

She had to convince him.

Somehow.

She heard the rustle of feathers again and changed her course, flying toward the jagged peaks of the Algor Mountains with their icy summits. It would be better to confront their attacker outside of a busy city, where no one else could be hurt. It might be easier to change Bond’s mind if she had him at her mercy.

Percipia knew exactly the right spot.

Incendium was thoroughly explored but there was one place that appeared on no map. Its location was a secret held in the memory of the royal dragon shifters.

At the Aerie, she and Bond would be completely alone.