Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(42)

“No, you don’t.” Narrowing my gaze, I put some space between us. “The overpowering scent of them in your blacksmith shop proves otherwise. You come here all the time. This must have been where you vanished to the other day.”

I waited, my breath held in my throat. Rivelin’s hands tensed as he gazed down at me, and the soft breeze rustled the silver hair that hung to his shoulders. The elf who stood before me was the answer to all my problems. I’d been sent here to find someone steeped in dragon magic, and here he was. At the end of Midsummer, I could return to Fafnir and trade his freedom for mine. He was the enemy I’d been searching for, and I’d known it the second I’d laid eyes on him. At long last, I had the proof.

So why did it all feel so…wrong? There was no happiness, no relief. Just a grim resignation curling around my heart.

“Yes, I come here to visit them. At least once a week,” he finally said. “They’re my friends, and I vowed to protect them.”

I swallowed.

He continued. “Their cave is only another half hour’s walk from here. Come with me. Let me introduce you to them.”

Skoll trotted toward me and nudged my leg with a whine. I frowned down at him. “Not you, too. I thought you were on my side.”

“See, Skoll trusts the dragons. He wouldn’t encourage you to go with me if he thought it would put you in harm’s way.”

I couldn’t believe I was taking the word of a fenrir over my own instincts.

“This could be some sort of trap,” I said.

“If it was a trap, you’d already be stuck in it. Dragons fly fast.”

I frowned but made no attempt to argue.

“So you’ll come?” Rivelin asked.

I motioned him forward. “I will approach. Cautiously. But any sign of trouble, and I’m gone.”



A s promised, we reached the mouth of the cave not long after crossing the bridge. The pungent scent of dragons rolled toward me from the shadowy depths, like vicious waves on a stormy day. I clenched my jaw against the force of it, trying to ignore how it dug into my bones and called for me. I did not want to go any closer, but still I followed Rivelin inside, warring against the instinct to run.

Water dripped from somewhere deep within the caverns, and a thunderous heat throbbed against the walls. I stilled as I caught sight of four sleeping forms curled up along the far side of the cave, where a rocky overhang served as a shelter. They were larger than horses but only just. Laying on their backs, their round scaly bellies faced the ceiling above, revealing sleek, glowing gemstones—each one had its own unique coloring. Sparks shot into the air as they breathed, before drifting back down around them like falling snow.

“They’re so…small,” I whispered, my voice echoing. “For dragons, I mean.”

“They’re young and still spend a lot of time sleeping,” Rivelin said softly. “I found them just after they hatched. Fourteen years ago. They won’t reach full maturity until they’re thirty.”

Like elves and orcs, dragons could live for centuries. Or they had, before Isveig had killed them all. Killed them because they were dangerous, and their magnificent power caused those who bonded with them to lose their grip on their souls. The magic burned them up, along with anyone else in their vicinity.

I turned away. “I knew you were doing something like this. You act like you’re this noble, protective man, but you have dragons, and you’re hiding them from the empire.”

“Because Isveig will kill them,” he said, a sneer curling his lips. “And you have no place to tell me what’s moral or not.”

I flinched. “You going to call me a murk again?”

“If the shoe fucking fits.”

“Dragons are dangerous.”

He jerked a thumb toward the sleeping creatures. “Do they look dangerous?”

“Well, not yet, but—”

“If you could leave now and tell your emperor about this, you would, wouldn’t you?”

My mouth dropped open, then I snapped it shut. I didn’t know how to answer that question. Everything I’d seen and heard throughout my life screamed at me that this was wrong, that it needed to be stopped. But it was so impossibly hard to reconcile all that with what I’d seen since arriving on Hearthaven. And with the people I’d met in Wyndale—barring Gregor, of course. These people weren’t wild and dangerous. These dragons were peacefully sleeping youngsters. No one was burning anyone up in a fit of uncontrollable rage. Yet.

I heaved a sigh. Why did this have to be so damn hard?

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I finally said.

A low growl rumbled from the back of Rivelin’s throat. He took a step forward, and I took a step back, but my retreat was halted by the sleek stone wall of the cave. He leaned in and palmed the rock beside my head, his narrowed eyes churning with anger.

“I knew there was no getting through to you.” His hot breath caressed my neck. “I hoped if you saw the dragons with your own eyes, something might thaw in that ice-cold heart of yours. But no. You’re too stubborn for that.”

I lifted my chin. “Don’t act like you know anything about me.”

“I know you hide your truths behind a false smile. And I know you’d rather bite off your own tongue than admit you were wrong.”