“And I have nothing more to say to you.”
With no choice, Max turned on him and flipped him. “Listen to me! I don’t want to fight you.”
But a fight it was. Falcyn came after him like a starving dog in a buffet line that was after the last pork chop. Damn, he’d forgotten how hard his brother could hit. With no choice, he transformed to a dragon. It was the only way to survive and he didn’t really want to kill his brother.
Well…
Theoretically. However, if Falcyn didn’t come to his senses soon, Max might change his mind. He didn’t need his brother alive to claim what he was after. Only his conscience required a breathing Falcyn.
Oh dear gods, really? Suddenly, Illarion was between them in his dragon body, pushing them apart. Stop it! Both of you!
Falcyn spun around, trying to sting him one more time with his tail.
Max caught it with his talons and bit it so hard, Falcyn yelped.
Illarion glared at him. Was that necessary?
Max released his tail. “Little bit.”
With an irritable growl, Falcyn shot fire at him.
Illarion froze it with his powers. He glared at Falcyn. We are down to the last four of our house. Can you please not cull our lineage any more?
“Then you’d best get him out of my sight.”
Falcyn…
“I mean it, Illy. I’m not in the mood.” He lumbered off toward his gate.
“I need a dragonstone, Falcyn. My children and swan will die without it.”
Falcyn froze. “You dare to ask me for that?”
“You’re the only one left who has one.”
Falcyn turned to pin each of them with a fierce, stern glower. “And I really don’t give a fuck. Go home. Both of you. I never want to see you again.”
With those cold words spoken, he vanished between the gates.
Stunned, Max stared after him. “Are you serious?”
I’m sorry, Max.
Unable to believe this, he laughed bitterly. “I knew you were selfish and cold, Fal, but this… Mom would be proud to know how much you take after her. I wish I’d killed you when I had the chance, you bastard!”
Stop, Max. You know why he feels this way.
Yeah, sure. Like everyone else, he blamed Max for things Max hadn’t wanted. For things he couldn’t help. That he’d done everything to avoid.
Now Sera and his children would pay for it.
Max ached with the weight of his guilt and pain. It wasn’t right. He didn’t mind carrying the burden of his punishment. He was used to it. But he couldn’t stand for the blowback to hit his family.
Not even Falcyn.
But there was nothing he could do. His heart broken that he’d failed, he led Illarion back to Sanctuary so that he could spend whatever time he had left with his wife before the gods returned her to a cold, dead statue.
Medea hesitated outside her parents’ bedroom as a bad feeling went through her at the uncharacteristic silence that greeted her. Not that the sounds she normally heard whenever she ventured here at this hour were comforting, far from it, but…
“Mom? Dad?”
The door opened by its own volition.
Even more wary, she slid her hands to her weapons, ready to attack whatever threat might be waiting in the large, candlelit room. With its covers rumpled, the king-sized four-poster bed was empty. On one side, the drapes were pulled away as if it’d been vacated quickly.
Then she heard the faint telltale sound of sickness from the bathroom.
“We’re in here,” her father called.
Still not sure this wasn’t a trick, Medea moved quickly, yet cautiously toward the retching sounds.
When she reached the door that was slightly ajar, she pushed it wider and froze in complete shock.
Barely dressed, her mother was on the floor sick, while her father held her. His short black hair was tousled, and his handsome face contorted by worry. Someone, no doubt her father, had braided her mother’s long, blond hair to keep it out of her way while she was ill.
Both of them were pale and shaking.
Terrified, Medea rushed closer to them. “What’s going on?”
Stryker swallowed hard before he answered. “I don’t know. She woke up gagging. And has been sick for over an hour now.” He adjusted the cool cloth on her mother’s head.
Since Daimons and their brand of demon couldn’t get sick, in theory, or pregnant, this couldn’t be good. Medea knelt down beside her mother. “Matera?”
With a greenish cast to her skin, her mother placed a tender hand to Medea’s cheek and tried to smile. “I’ll be fine, little one. I just need a minute.”
But she could tell by the fear in her father’s eyes that this was worse than her brave mother was letting on.
“Did you need something?” her father asked.
She let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate to burden you with anything else…”
He arched a brow.
“Kessar’s returned to the playing field. My spy at Sanctuary just sent word that he has the Emerald Tablet in hand, and has awakened the Scythian Riders to come for you.”