Chapter Text
Arina always did what was expected of her. In that way, she was a dutiful daughter to a king who had rather little interest in her. She dressed in whatever dresses were brought to her, smiled when she was supposed to and moved when she was told. And when her father said she’d be married to one of his most trusted advisors, Arina hadn’t complained.
Out loud.
But in her head, things were different. She said the word no and people listened. She screamed when she was overtaken with fury and cried when she was sad. She talked about more than the weather—and people cared about her opinions.
Those were merely daydreams. The reality was far grimmer than even Arina was willing to admit. She was in a strange land, engaged to a man she hated and paraded about by both her father and Jack before the human delegations.
Isn’t she beautiful? Jack must have said it a million times. Arina wanted to strangle him with her bare hands and then hang herself with her own hair. She was a decoration and nothing more, forced to play along with easy smiles and dead eyes. His words were the epitome of chivalry, the highest compliment. Everyone knew women didn’t have thoughts, after all.
Only beautiful faces—if they were lucky.
Arina didn’t like Prythian. It was teetering on the edge of war with a newly minted King that didn’t seem terribly concerned about his predicament. In fact, when she met Rhysand—who’d immediately told her to call him Rhys—she thought he found the entire thing amusing. Her own father hadn’t stopped ranting about the looming threat of the dragons, a threat that had once been eradicated.
Only to learn there were hidden kingdoms of them everywhere. Rather than dying out, they’d gone into hiding, rebuilt, and had returned. Arina hadn’t met one yet, and wasn’t allowed to—her father was terrified one would see her and steal her away in the night like they’d been doing to other women.
Jack, though, had told her once the dragons finished fucking, they began feasting. That wasn’t enough to keep her in her room when the night they were set to come. She merely wanted to see them. Her father and Jack had locked the door to her room, an adjoining chamber to the rooms they’d been given, too. Of course they had the keys—they could come and go as they liked, a thought that scared her far more than any dragon.
At least she knew death would come quickly with the monsters. With her betrothed, however…
As the sun set, Arina used a pin from her thick, blonde hair to open the balcony doors before tossing it to the neatly made bed in the corner. All the pearl pins in her hair made her scalp ache, though fashion always came before comfort.
She wanted to run wild.
She envied the creatures in the distance, great wings beating along the wind. What did it feel like, she wondered? If she could have, Arina would have leapt from that ledge and taken off and no one could stop her. She’d fly to the very ends of the earth, build a little cottage, and live her days in total seclusion.
They’d call her a witch.
So long as they didn’t call her pretty.
None of the incoming dragons paid her any mind save for one. He wasn’t dark scaled like the others, with ribbons of color that wound around their necks. This one was pure orange, glittering in the sunlight like pure flame. Amber eyes found her as heavy wings beat closer and closer and—
She panicked, scrambling back in before he could perch those massive talons on the marble edge, open his gaping maw to swallow her whole. Standing behind the glass, she watched the creature peer in, wings still flapping. She pressed her palm to the glass as the creature huffed out a breath, fogging her view.
And when it cleared, the monster was gone.
Arina woke to the sound of the door unlocking. It was morning if the golden light filtering in had anything to say about it. Jack appeared moments later, fully dressed in stark contrast to her with her unbound hair and her thin shift. Arina yanked the blanket up to her neck but he’d seen too much.
“You’re lazy,” he complained, gaze hungry as she pressed herself against the headboard behind her. “Why aren’t you up?
For another day trapped in this room?
“My apologies,” she murmured, praying he wouldn’t make her stand. Please, please, please—
“Get up,” he ordered, a cruel smile spreading across his aged face. He was a few years younger than her father but aging far worse. Heart pounding, Arina meekly slid from beneath the blanket so he could really look at her. In the patch of light, the thin material might as well have been nothing at all—it was see through and they both knew it. “Get dressed.”
Their eyes met again. “You can’t be in here.”
“You’re nearly my wife,” he bit out, clearly displeased she hadn’t just stripped naked. “I can be anywhere I want where it concerns you.”
Arina was going to be sick. “I—”
A loud knock on her bedroom door interrupted them both. Arina scrambled back, snatching the first gown she saw before vanishing into the bathing chamber. She’d narrowly escaped this time, interrupted by good fortune or fate, but Arina knew she wouldn’t get so lucky again.
She needed to leave.
Arina had spent years coming up with plans, mapping out escape routes and deciding how best to get as far as she could as fast as she could. She’d never mustered up the guts to do so, though, afraid of what would happen if she got caught.
Would Rhys look for her? And how hard? The real danger seemed to be the dragons and they were all currently occupied at the summit, arguing for peace and perhaps one human woman a month to eat or fuck or both. She was merely some minor Kings daughter. Sure, they’d look, but for how long and how hard? If she could just vanish into the woods, Arina thought she’d be fine. She could figure it out from there.
Make her way to a river or the sea, get on a ship and completely disappear. She’d change her name. Cut her hair, if she had to. Dirty her face, put on pants—whatever it took to never be recognized again. The trick was getting out, and Arina suspected she knew how.
She came out of the bathing chamber dressed in a burnt umber dress made of crushed velvet. She’d pinned half her hair off her face and wore the same satin slippers she always did—she wasn’t permitted anything sturdier. That didn’t matter—she’d go barefoot if she had to.
Arina was only allowed one place in the palace without supervision, and that was the library. Everywhere else was off limits to her without a male escort, and if she asked Jack or her father, they’d tell her no. The library, however, was seen as acceptable.
And Arina loved to read.
Jack had mentioned it would be useful to have a well-read wife to teach his children, the thought alone enough to make her wish she was illiterate. The library was on the ground level of the palace, with doors everywhere. She’d spent the day reading, return after dinner, and then slip out. By the time Jack realized she was missing, Arina ought to have a full night on him.
No one was at the door, so Arina left a little note just inside the room that anyone with eyes would see.
Went to the library.
She should have gone to breakfast. She couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting beside her betrothed, legs clenched tight to keep his hand from sliding too far up her thighs. Every meal was like that, making it impossible to truly eat. If she let her guard down for even a second he was trying to pull up her dress or touch her over the fabric. Every moment was a nightmare.
You can do this.
The only person ever in Rhysand’s library was a lonely scholar who merely nodded at Arina from his desk, spine permanently hunched. She offered him a smile she hoped seemed genuine, if only because it was. She picked a little chair half hidden in the stacks, close enough that she could slip between two and make her way out onto the veranda without anyone noticing.
And then she sat down, book in hand, and began her daydream. She couldn’t focus on the pages, anxious and desperate for time to move faster.
Time seemed to slow down, and the library was more popular than it had ever been. An auburn haired man stepped in a little before eleven. He had a pair of familiar amber eyes and the kind of aristocratic features that marked him as royalty. She knew a prince when she saw one. He found her, though he didn’t come any closer. He didn’t speak at all. He simply turned from the room and left her to stare at the clock and imagine what she’d do when she no longer had to look over her shoulder.
He returned later in the afternoon, and this time when the man’s gaze found her, he came to her, too.
“Your father is looking for you,” he said by way of greeting.
“Don’t tell him I’m here,” she replied.
“You left a note,” the man replied with the faintest hint of amusement. “The whole palace knows you’re here.”
“So you’re, what? An errand boy?” she replied, certain that would wound his fragile ego.
The man smiled, and Arina wished he hadn’t. He was beautiful, radiating cool warmth she wanted to get closer to. That kind of impulse would only lead to ruin, so Arina remained in her chair, trying her best to stare him down even though he towered over her. He was build like a warrior, muscular and broad beneath a cream colored coat and wine red pants. His black boots cut just below his knee and were so polished she could see the lights gleaming off the leather.
Even his hair was perfect, pushed off his face in a faux casual sort of way—she knew he’d spent time agonizing over each strand. Something about him seemed a little fussy. Still, his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and full mouth were reassuring, in a way.
She wasn’t sure which way, only that the sight of him settled that restless impulse racing through her.
“Have you eaten?” he questioned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Maybe he was restless, too.
“I’m not going into that dining hall.”
His expression darkened. “Why not?”
Arina couldn’t tell him the truth—he wouldn’t care, besides. “I don’t know you.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Not intentionally,” she said without thinking, half drunk on the power she felt just saying whatever she wanted. His eyes blazoned with heat that wasn’t for her.
“Did someone hurt you here?”
“What do you want?” she demanded. Arina wasn’t telling this man anything. He’d betray her inevitably, even if he thought he was some sort of chivalrous hero.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
He sighed, and if he’d been less principled, she imagined he would have stamped his foot, too. “Please?”
“”Oh, well since you asked so nicely,” she replied, tapping her chin as she pretended to think about it, “no.”
The man let out a frustrated growl. “I’m not going to deliver you to your father
or
the dining hall.”
“I’m not allowed to leave without a male chaperone,” Arina informed him primly.
The man ran a hand down his toned chest. “Am I not a man?”
He had her there. “I don’t think you count.”
“Then your father should have been more specific,” he replied smugly, offering her a hand. Arina didn’t take it, though she did stand. What did it matter if she went with him? She was leaving that night regardless, and if she was caught, being alone with him was hardly the end of the world.
“What’s your name?”
“Eris Vanserra,” he said promptly, looking as though he were omitting a lot of facts.
“Should I call you
Lord?
Or
Prince?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Neither. Just Eris.”
Liar, liar. Still, she followed after him, annoyed by his longer legs and quick gait. He was definitely some spoiled nobleman at best. He walked like it—like women had been throwing themselves at his feet since he’d grown into his masculine features. Or, at least, he walked like he knew he was handsome and that annoyed her, too.
“That makes you sound a bit like a prick, you know,” she informed him, coming out of the library half in his shadow. He’d paused in the wide hall, looking in every direction and Arina, uninterested in getting caught, stood behind him as though no one could see her.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve been called worse. Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not…” But it was no use. They both knew she was lying. Eris sighed.
“This way, princess.”
“How do you know I’m a princess?” she demanded, back at his side once they turned the opposite direction, heading toward a part of the vibrant, moonstone palace she’d never seen. It was so airy and open here, with windows that towered toward the skies and swirling marble floors she could have eaten off of. The palace was far emptier than the one she lived in, and she wondered why. Didn’t Rhysand have a court? Friends? Enemies who liked to live luxuriously? Even the servants were sparse, slipping past before seemingly evaporating to mist.
“Everyone knows. It’s all your fathers advisor speaks about—the beautiful princess we’re all forbidden from speaking to.”
“Betrothed, you mean,” she said. Arina didn’t know why she told Eris that. Maybe she wanted at least one person to understand why she left. And something about him made her think he might impede the search for her. Misdirect, cause a little mayhem, slow them all down so she could slip away.
He ground to a halt and Arina, who was still picturing how he might mess everything up for her father, slammed into his shoulder.
“Betrothed?” Eris asked, his voice lethally soft.
“Sorry if you were angling for an arranged marriage,” she replied blithely, trying to keep the fear from her voice, “but I’m already promised.”
Arina held up her hand and the little gold band that sat on her third finger to wiggle them in front of him. “This trip is just a last stop before the—- hey what are you doing?”
Eris grabbed her wrist in one hand, fingers a vice to keep her from pulling free. With the other, he wrenched that ring off her finger and flung it out a nearby window.
Arina shoved at his chest for all the good it did. “What was that for?”
Eris looked wild, more animal than man with his heaving chest and flared nostrils. Staring down at her, Arina waited for his explanation. Eris took a breath through parted lips and then said,
“Come on.”
“That’s it?” she demanded, trailing after as he walked forward as if nothing had happened. “What is wrong with you?”
“I didn’t realize you were so in love,” Eris sneered as a muscle began jumping furiously in his jaw.
She grabbed his arm in an attempt to stop him. “It’s not—I’m not
in love—
but you won’t be punished—”
Eris spun around again, that wildness magnified. “Punished? Punished how?”
“I…just…can you go find it, please?” she whispered, hating herself for how pathetic she was. Eris looked at her for another long moment.
“Later.”
Arina didn’t argue, though she also didn’t believe he was going to try very hard to track it down, either. She’d need to stay out of sight for the remainder of the day, or keep her hand hidden if she didn’t want to be found out. The last thing she needed was to be locked up and so badly bruised there was no point in sneaking away. She’d be too noticeable with a black eye.
Eris took her to a private patio, laid out with enough food to feed five people rather than just two. The little table was the only thing sitting against the marble, with an unmatched view of the rising mountains in the distance.
“Eat,” Eris said, pulling out a chair so the legs scraped the ground. “I’ll….I’ll find your ring.”
“Thank you,” she said, heart racing. He’d brought her here to
eat
with her? “You don’t want to stay?”
He did. Hesitating, fingers holding the golden knob of the glass door, she watched as the man warred with his thoughts before shaking his head. “You eat. I’ll be back.”
He vanished back indoors, leaving Arina alone again, though without half as much misery as she usually felt. There was an inherent trust to his absence—he’d return and she didn’t need to worry. Arina didn’t know how to explain that typically she was the one no one trusted.
Sitting in the chair, she let herself eat more than she would normally to compensate for the journey she knew was coming.
Eris returned not long after, eyes sweeping the table. “You barely ate anything.”
“I’m one woman,” she replied. Eris leaned his body against the doorframe, ankles crossed like the arms over his chest. “Did you find the ring?”
“No.”
Arina sighed. “Great.”
There was a pause in which she thought he might apologize for what he’d done, or at least explain
why
he’d done it. He didn’t. “You can stay, if you like. I’ll cover for you.”
“Why would you do that?”
Eris stared at her for a moment. “I like the sound of your voice,” he said, his own strained as though he’d had to push them out against his will. No one had ever said that to her before.
“You want to listen to me talk?” she questioned.
Eris crept an inch closer. “Yes.”
Arina looked down at her empty plate. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to speak unless you want to.”
“I should…I should go back, actually. Before someone realizes…” Arina stood abruptly, annoyed when Eris shifted so his body was blocking her only exit.
“What would they realize?” Eris asked in that lethal, soft way of his. “Why are you being held prisoner?”
Arina shoved past him. “They’re
your
laws,” she snapped, angry he wanted to both uphold the rules that allowed men to treat her like property while also being indignant when they were enforced. “Take it up with yourself.”
“Not my laws,” Eris replied softly. Arina turned, heart racing in her chest. He hadn’t moved other than to face her, still leaned against the door in that casual way of his. Eris reached for his collar, slipping one of the buttons out so she could see the glimmer of orange against his fair skin.
Scales.
“We don’t treat our females so cruelly,” he told her.
“Because you killed them all,” she whispered, suddenly afraid. He was a dragon? No one had told her that their human forms looked like that. She’d expected a man who was more monster than anything, but Eris seemed painfully human. With deft fingers, he rebuttoned his jacket, hiding the proof he was more than just a man.
Eris didn’t smile. “Is that what they tell you?”
“It’s the
truth,”
she replied, taking another step backward. “You killed your women and now you’re stealing humans—”
Eris barked out a laugh so loud it drowned out the rest of her accusation. There was no mirth on his expression, no amusement etched over his features. Only blazing hatred staring right back. Arina turned, too afraid to listen to whatever lie he’d offer up. She didn’t want to hear his justification, why he thought his people were owed more women to destroy as well.
And she didn’t want to be part of it. If he’d taken an interest in her, that was a bad sign. Arina made her way back to the library, heart racing painfully. He knew she was here—he could simply follow after her should he choose to.
Curled up in a chair, Arina thought the day had gone from bad to worse. She expected, though, to be left alone for the remainder of it. That was naive. The whole thing had been naivety because Jack, too, tracked her down with relative ease.
“Up,” he said, startling Arina who’d been engrossed in a book. “Is this how you waste your time?”
She was on her feet in an instant, wincing when he grabbed her upper arm with unnecessary force to jerk her closer.
“You’re
hiding,”
he accused, brown eyes searching her face for proof he was right. “Where were you this afternoon?”
“Here,” she said, though she knew that wasn’t true. It must have shown on her face because Jack shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle in her skull.
“I was
here,”
he said, breath sickly sweet against her face. Arina wanted to turn her head and knew better. Instead she cast her eyes downward, wondering if this hadn’t been Eris’s little plan all along. “You were nowhere to be found.”
“Then I was in my room,” Arina said, hiding her hand in the folds of her skirts so he wouldn’t see the missing engagement ring, too. “I had to use the restroom—I’m allowed to move freely—”
He hit her. Arina couldn’t even stumble backward to escape it, held in place by his punishing grip. Tears smarted in the corner of her eyes, swallowed before she could burst out sobbing. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, wasn’t going to let him see how thorough of a job he was doing at breaking her down.
“You’re not allowed to
breathe
unless I will it,” Jack hissed, face inches from her own. “You will go nowhere, do
nothing
unless I say you can. If I tell you to stand in a corner for the rest of the day, you’ll smile and thank me for it. Do you understand?”
Arina didn’t dare look at him. “Yes.”
“I told your father bringing you here was a mistake,” Jack said, still in her personal space. “You’re not smart enough to understand your place in all this. You are simply a woman.”
Arina wanted to go to her room and see what her face looked like. Jack, however, dragged her to the dining hall where Rhysand himself was already seated, a goblet of wine in one hand. Beside him was a man clearly marked by red dragon scales, sprawled in a chair as he spoke with an easy familiarity. Jack paused when he saw him, clear frustrated, before shoving Arina into a chair.
Across the long table sat Eris—not the nobleman's son, or the prince, but the dragon. He, too, had wine in his hand though it was all but forgotten as he stared her down.
She didn’t want to look at him, either. Arina was tired of being humiliated by men. She was back to being decorative, though how true that was wasn’t made clear until she was sent back to her bedchamber midway through the meal as a little show of power. Just as dinner was set before her, Jack instructed her to leave with a servant, plate untouched.
No one stopped him.
In truth, Arina was grateful for it. Anxious and miserable, she’d nearly tripped to escape both men and dragon, all of whom ignored her in favor of a strained conversation she hadn’t been paying attention to. There was no point in locking the door—and Arina knew she wouldn’t be left alone that night.
Jack would stake his claim the only way men knew how. He’d marked her face and then he’d mark her body, rendering her worthless to every other man and completing what her father had begun. Arina went to the mirror, relieved to find there was no bruise on her face—only a fading red handprint that would be gone by morning.
She could be gone before he ever arrived, too. Pulling the pins from her hair, Arina went to the locked door, slid one of the pins into the lock, and opened the door. Everyone was at dinner drinking and talking and engaging in what she could only assume was a dick measuring contest. Maybe the dragons would eat the men and forget all about her.
No one tried to stop her. Not when she ran through the halls or burst outdoors. None of the guards said a word when she crossed the expansive lawn for the little city below—and not one person cared when she pushed open a gate and made a break for the forest.
Arina hadn’t brought anything else with her.
But she was free.
ERIS:
Eris stood atop a parapet, watching his little mate walk into the city.
Good.
Beside him, Cassian sighed. “If you kill them, it’ll start a war.”
“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Eris questioned, ignoring the urge to chase after her. He had her scent lodged in his nose—he’d find her easily enough once the sun set. His business was here for at least another hour. “My armies?”
“That’s what
I
want,” Cassian agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not what my king wants.”
“Is he hoping for more slaughter, first? Proof that humans are barbaric? I think we all remember what they’re capable of—and what kind of diplomacy they offer.”
“It’s…complex…” Cassian said. Eris bet it was. There were no females left with which to mate with, and the dragons were coming to realize their mates were humans, now. They were curious and desperate—they wanted to start lives, have families. The war had come to his own shores, and though they’d managed not to be totally decimated, Eris didn’t have half as many people as his father had once commanded before he’d vanished, taking his mother and a brand new child born in the middle of war.
Eris never had found them. He assumed they were buried in some unmarked grave, unmourned and lost to even time itself. Eris was bitter about all of it. Humans didn’t live as long as his kind and reproduced far faster. They had an abundance of women they treated poorly, children they neglected and abused, and wars they started simply because they were bored.
Why should he be the bigger man? His mate had come to dinner reeking of fear, her face swollen with a handprint while the offending male had sat like a king, unbothered by the other humans who ignored her entirely.
And Rhysand had floated into Eris’s head, warning him against the violence he was contemplating. He could have incinerated them all with only half a thought.
You’ll frighten her.
She would forgive him—Eris was certain of it. She was already scared, but maybe she’d feel less scared knowing she didn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder. He could make her queen of whatever land she called home, could unite their territories—
“A month,” Eris said, looking at the warrior beside him. “Tell your king he has a month to decide before we withdraw. This time, if he chooses cowardice, I will lock our borders and you will fight the humans alone.”
“And if he decides on war.”
Eris grinned, “You can count on my support. We could attack them now, take their territories and decimate their armies before they had a chance to respond.”
“If I had my way,” Cassian mumbled. “Diplomacy is wasted on them—they make promises they intend to break while taking as much from us as they possibly can.”
“They only understand violence.”
“Rhys thinks we’re not better if we destroy them like they destroyed us.”
“The world would be better without them,” Eris said, wishing he could still see Arina. She was merely a dot on the horizon, long vanished into the woods. “Will Rhys be angry if I kill a human King.”
“Undoubtedly,” Cassian said glumly.
“If it were his mate—”
“But it wasn’t,” Cassian said with a touch of finality. And it never would be, was the unspoken rest of that sentence. Rhys would never have sat across a table, forced to endure what Eris had while another male forced him to pretend none of it mattered.
With the conversation done, Cassian turned to leave before hesitating. “If you wait, you could misdirect her family. Buy her time.”
It was tempting— “She’s alone.”
If Cassian agreed with him or not, Eris couldn’t say. He didn’t turn to look, unconcerned with the other males' approval. Cracking his neck, Eris inhaled slowly before shifting into his dragon form. This was how he preferred to be—how all his kind preferred to live. Wings outstretched, scales warmed by the sun.
He could see better in this form, could move faster, was a true predator. Besides, Eris didn’t like all the pretending he had to do around the humans, who hadn’t realized he was a dragon. Not one human ruler knew the Western Isles were controlled by dragons on purpose. Eris let them believe they’d been killed and he was what remained, hiding all traces that marked him in an effort to keep his people safe.
Some might call it cowardly, but Eris called it survival.
Taking off, Eris inhaled the crisp, early evening air. There, beneath the stench of humans and the familiar smells of nature, lay vanilla and lime mixed together.
Arina.
She didn’t like him—he’d seen the fear and disgust on her face when he’d shown her his scales. Maybe it would have been better to pretend to be a human to gain her trust, but Eris wanted her to know from the outset who he was—so that when she finally claimed him, it was him, and not some pretend version of himself.
She was going to be angry with him. If she knew he was flying over the treetops looking for her, she’d be angry before he ever touched the ground. That was a risk he was willing to take in the name of keeping her safe. He knew there were predators prowling, who would see an unarmed, defenseless female and decide to make an easy meal of her.
They’d think twice if he was there.
Eris found her walking through the bramble, dress held in one hand to keep from dragging across the ground. He dipped, catching how her neck craned to look. He was big, wings knocking against branches before he took on his two legged form to hop beside her.
“I was looking for you,” he said, hoping his smile was charming.
“Go away.” She tried to sound authoritative, but there was a streak of mud on her cheek and she was breathless from running.
“Where would I go?”
“Anywhere else?” she said, stalking off. Eris caught her easily thanks to his longer legs and how often he trekked through the wilderness on his own. She’d never survive without him.
“And leave you to die? Or worse?”
“What’s worse than death?” she demanded, turning that beautiful face toward him. The hand print was still faded, though the insult remained, branded against his very soul. It was the gravest of insults. She didn’t understand and Eris didn’t know how to make her.
“Your impending marriage,” he said, forcing out the words through his teeth. Her head whipped around, slapping golden curls against her cheek. Eris wanted to touch her so badly it made his bones ache. His entire life, Eris had believed like many other males of his kind, that he simply did not have a mate. Mates were said to be equals—gifts from their Mother goddess. And Eris didn’t believe he’d been granted one. Why would he, of everyone?
He’d recognized her the moment he flew in, had felt an almost painful tugging in his chest that directed him toward her. She’d been watching on the balcony with the pair of greenest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. She’d retreated indoors and Eris knew better than to go barging in, though it hadn’t stopped him from scouring the palace looking for her the next morning. He just needed to know for sure.
He’d taken one breath in that library and had known the truth of things. After that, everything felt like a dream. He’d gone to Rhys and asked what the rules were—could he simply take her? That's how things had been when he was a child and Eris thought he was fine with the repercussions of such an act if it got her far, far away from the impending war. It had been Rhys who informed him that Arina was engaged and that he was expressly forbidden from kidnapping her.
Bullshit.
There was no rule saying he couldn’t guide her back to his home, however, which was why Eris was trailing after her like a lovesick puppy. Which, he supposed he was, even if it annoyed him.
“You think death is better?” she asked, some of her dislike melting into a different emotion.
“He hit you,” Eris replied, curling his fingers into fists. Talons burst from his fingers, slicing open his palm before he could get himself better under control. “I think I’d rather be dead than endure a lifetime of that.”
His father had died before Eris could kill him, but he knew from first hand experience he didn’t want to waste his life trapped with his abuser.
Arina sighed, picking up the pace again. “What do you know about it?”
Too much. Eris nearly told her, desperate for connection—to show that their experiences were mirrored, their suffering shared. A rustling in the trees caught his attention, stopping him as he inhaled.
Wolves.
She was walking straight to them if the scent on the wind was any indication. Jogging after her, Eris attempted to reach for her but Arina was too prepared.
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, jerking away. Her recoil made his whole body ache with hurt, causing him to forget, for just a moment, why he’d gone to her in the first place. Was he truly that offensive to her? Would she rather go it alone when he was right there?
“I…”
They both halted at the sound of a braying wolf far, far in the distance.
“We need to go,” Eris said, voice icy. “I’ll take you back to the palace.”
“No!” she gasped, turning wholly toward him. “Please—anywhere else.”
“I’ll take you to my home,” he replied cautiously, expecting her to also reject it.
Arina’s green eyes narrowed. She’d fight him even as her throat was being torn out. “And where is your home, exactly?”
He could just scoop her up and take her. He didn’t need to ask—it was merely a formality. “The Western Isles.”
“All the way out there?”
“Look, I would love to discuss this with you but we are
moments
from a bloody death. Agree to come with me or I will simply—”
It was too late. Eris shifted with enough time to wrap Arina within the spiked plating of his tail, but not fast enough to avoid razor sharp teeth sinking into his throat. The wolf simply came with him as he rose higher in the air, shaking viciously in an attempt to bring him down. Emboldened, more of the wolves came running from the thick trees for both him and Arina.
Eris panicked. He was used to fighting only to save himself, or as part of his military—not to keep his newly acquired mate alive. She was defenseless, without a weapon and in satin shoes. If they caught her, she’d be dead before Eris ever learned another thing about her.
Before he ever saw her smile.
With a taloned claw, Eris ripped the wolf from his throat and flung it against a tree, ignoring the pained scream it barked out. With his tail, Eris swept a wide arc around the pair of them as Arina came closer, saying words he couldn’t make out in the chaos.
He was in trouble. Blood poured from his wound and breathing was physically painful. Reaching for Arina, Eris held her in that same claw as he tried to take flight. More wolves latched onto his legs, ripping and tearing through his plating for the flesh below. Eris bellowed, fire erupting from his ruined throat in an inferno that only served to ruin him further.
Instinct had taken over his good sense. He needed to protect his mate or die trying. And the way things were going, Eris wasn’t convinced he’d survive.
She might, though. Eris managed to get the starving animals off him and take flight, veering wildly to the left, and then the right, as he tried to settle himself. He could hear Arina distantly, her screams enough to set him on edge. She was afraid.
Well, he was, too.
Managing to right himself, Eris soared as high as he dared. His vision was blurry, his breathing labored and each beat of his wings felt like a monumental task. He wasn’t certain he was up for it. Still, he flew with no real destination in mind. He wanted to get her away from the humans that, even traveling on horseback it would take them days to reach her. Eris needed to lay down.
Darkness seeped into his vision just as he saw a clearing. A large lake lay in a valley, hidden by high, snow capped mountain peaks. The Illyrian Mountains, he realized. Cassian might find them—might find Arina, should Eris die.
“Not the lake!” Arina cried as Eris began to descend. In truth, he hadn’t realized he was so low to the ground. Cradling her against his chest, he crash landed in the grass, likely breaking a few bones on his way down. Arina seemed unharmed, pulling from his grasp to stand on her feet. Her hair was windblown, eyes wide with fear and there was speckled of blood against the brown of her cheek.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, reaching for him before pulling her hand back against her chest. Eris supposed it was too much to hope that she’d touch him before he died. He tried to assure he was, but the words wouldn’t come out.
He was still a dragon.
Trapped in his form, all he could do was huff out a breath and hope she was safe. His eyes closed.
And Eris was gone.