Page 120 of Wings of Shadow
“I know what you’re doing,” she continues. “What you’ve always done, Clarissa. Looking for cracks in the foundation, places where loyalties might split.” Her eyes narrow. “There are none to be found here.”
For a second, I flinch in disbelief. “It’s not like that at all… Surely, you realize every supernatural faction will be watching,” I point out. “Waiting to see how your brother handles this... complication.”
Sam’s smirk is sharp as broken glass. “Let them watch. The fools who mistake this for weakness don’t understand what’s truly at stake.” She releases my arm, her expression softening fractionally. “What happened at your brother’s dinner was just the beginning. The child Cassandra carries will change everything—the old rules, the boundaries between our kinds.”
“And Luciana?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral. “Where does she fit in this new world order?”
A flicker of something crosses Sam’s face—grief, uncertainty, determination—before settling into fierce resolve.
“Luciana is family,” she says simply. “As is Cassandra. As is the child. My brother...” She pauses, glancing toward Gavriil, his posture rigid as he watches Luciana speak with Vladimir. “My brother will find a way forward that honors all he has promised. The Ursa King does not break his word.”
I follow her gaze, studying the tableau before us: Luciana, returned from death’s embrace; Cassandra, power and secrets growing within her; Gavriil, caught between past love and present duty.
“And if he can’t?” I ask quietly.
Sam turns back to me, and there’s something ancient in her stare—a knowledge that makes her seem suddenly older than her years.
“Then we will all bear the cost,” she whispers. “But the child remains protected. That is non-negotiable.” She straightens, the momentary vulnerability vanishing beneath her usual poise. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe my mate is looking for me.”
As she turns to leave, I catch her wrist. It’s a bold move—perhaps foolish, given her lineage. But I do it anyway.
“Sam,” I say softly, ensuring no one else can hear. “Are you all right?”
Her composure falters, just for a heartbeat. Something raw flashes across her face before she rebuilds her walls.
“Of course,” she replies, but her pulse jumps beneath my fingers—a tell no witch would miss.
“Nikolaas seems...” I search for the right word, “intense tonight.”
Her eyes dart to where her dragon mate stands, his knuckles white around his glass, ocean eyes tracking her every movement with predatory focus. Even from here, I sense the barely contained storm within him, threatening to spill beyond his control.
“He’s under considerable strain,” she says carefully. “Learning your sister is mated to Kaisner Drachenstein would unsettle anyone.”
The name hangs in the air like a blade. Kaisner—the man who shattered centuries of dragon hierarchy with a single transformation.
“This isn’t just about Kaisner,” I risk saying. “This is about Nikolaas. About what’s happening to him.”
Sam’s expression freezes, fear and protectiveness warring across her features. “Nothing is happening to him,” she states, but the tremor in her voice betrays her.
“Sam,” I whisper, letting genuine concern color my words. “Whatever it is—whatever’s wrong—you don’t have to face it alone.”
For a moment, I think she might confide in me. Her shoulders drop slightly, the burden of secrets clearly taking their toll. But then, Nikolaas appears beside us, materializing with dragon swiftness that makes us both start.
“There you are,” he says to Samara, his tone deceptively light, but his eyes burning with something primal and possessive. His hand settles on her waist, fingers splayed wide—not just a lover’s touch, but a claim.
“Nikolaas,” I greet him, keeping my voice neutral despite the tension crackling in the air. “We were just discussing the unexpected nature of tonight’s reunion.”
“Were you?” His gaze shifts between us, suspicion darkening his features. The temperature around us drops several degrees as his control slips. Frost patterns form at his feet, spreading outward in jagged lines.
“I was checking on Clarissa,” Samara says quickly, offering me a look that’s both apology and warning. “The evening has been overwhelming for everyone.”
“Of course,” Nikolaas agrees, but his arm remains firmly around her waist. “Though I’m certain Clarissa is perfectly capable of managing her... complicated loyalties.”
The barb hits its mark. My connection to Kaisner—unwanted though it may have been—has transformed me from trusted ally to potential threat in his eyes.
“We all have complicated loyalties these days,” I reply evenly. “The wise among us know better than to judge what we don’t fully understand.”
His eyes narrow, dragon fire flickering in their depths. For a terrible moment, I fear his control might snap entirely.
