Page 4 of Saving the Last Heir
As she put the pot of water on to boil and got out a box of pasta, I pulled out my phone and opened my notes app, checking to see if there was anything more I could do to research or hunt for a cure or more dragons. Over the last several years, along with trying to find cures, I’d been hunting for any remaining winged dragons.
“How’s Tormynd?” I asked. “I didn’t see him outside when I arrived home.”
“As good as can be expected,” she said. “He’s still trying to fit in and find his way.”
I’d found Tormynd in an abandoned village in the Norwegian wilderness a little over a year before. He was the last winged dragon I’d found in years. The small hamlet he’d called home had been almost completely taken over by drakes. That subset of our kind—a wingless, four-legged dragon—had been encroaching on our old territories ever since The Vanishing had begun. Tormynd had been holed up in a cavern on the outskirts of the town when I’d found him and talked him into journeying across the ocean with me to live with those of his kind.
“His English is coming along nicely,” mom added. “He’s a very fast learner. Mateo has been teaching him both EnglishandSpanish. It’s rather impressive.”
“Good,” I grunted, going over my notes again, desperately praying to see something I’d overlooked.
A few minutes later, Mom set a heaping bowl of pasta in a simple creamy pepper sauce. My stomach gave a gurgling lurch at the sight of the food, and I dove in as soon as she handed me the fork.
“Enough about the others,” I said after a few bites, wiping my mouth, “how’s the little one?”
“We can go see her when you’re done, if you like.”
“I’d like that, actually. I missed seeing her.” I nodded at my mother. “You seem to be getting reacquainted with being in yourhuman form again. You haven’t screeched at me once since I’ve been back.”
“Don’t be—what did you say earlier? An ass and a dick,” she said, but her smile told me she was only joking.
When I’d finished eating, Mom led me into the deeper bowels of the mansion to the hatchery. The first thing I noticed was the emptiness of the vast room. At one time, there would have been an egg waiting to hatch every twenty feet. Now? Only one egg lay in the middle of the room, sitting on soft, ornate fabric in a circle of heated stones, and laying on soft, ornate fabric. My little sister.
“She still has some time before she hatches,” Mom said as I approached the egg.
“Another couple of months at least, right?”
“Probably. It’s not quite as exact as human births or other shifters who give birth to live offspring. Sometimes it’s three months, sometimes six. I’ve even heard of them hatching after three weeks, but I haven’t seen any sign of that so far. No movement or noise from within.”
Stepping over the magically heated stones, I knelt beside the egg. On my knees it came up to the top of my thighs, small enough that I could have wrapped my arms around it, which I did as I pressed my ear to the dark orange shell.
Closing my eyes, I strained my ears to pick up anything within. There was the faint but distinctwhooshingsound of the interior egg. The magic of life within stirred and built, creating a new person. My chest fluttered with both excitement and sadness. Soon, I would have a new baby sister. A happy miracle, but that happiness was muted by the cold, vacant, and lifeless nestsaround. I wished beyond measure that they weren’t empty. All I wanted was for my people to flourish again. My mother did too, and that brought even more sadness as I straightened.
“So,” I said. “Still, uh, no idea who the father is?”
Mom wasn’t ashamed at the question. She simply shrugged. “No real way of knowing. I’d been courting around half a dozen different partners at the time.” she shrugged, lifting her hands and turning the palms to the ceiling. “Maybe she’ll have her father’s eyes, and I’ll figure it out from there.”
I did my best not to wince in embarrassment at the casual way my mother talked about her sex life. At least she haddonesomething to keep our race alive. Though, as far as I knew, only one of her suitors had been a winged dragon—Korvax, an older man who lived here with us. The others had all been drakes or wyrms from families we were friendly with. If any ofthosemen were the father, there was a chance my sister could be one of their species rather than ours.
“I see you’re sleeping here with her,” I said, nodding at the bed that had been set up at the far wall.
“I got used to being in here,” Mom said, running a loving hand over the rough shell. “Two years in my dragon form gestating the egg, most of that was spent here resting. Plus,” she glanced around sadly, “I don’t want her in here alone all the time. She deserves to have someone nearby that loves her.”
I glanced down at the egg, awed by the beauty of it. Orange with red accents, as it usually was for a girl. A boy would have been purple or dark blue. It looked like some sort of beautifully carved stone rather than the harbinger of life.
“I’m glad she’s not alone,” I said. “But if you ever get tired of being in here, let me know. I’d be happy to trade for a bit.”
“I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Mom said, bending to kiss the top of the egg.
Before I could stop it, a yawn burst from my mouth.
“God, I’m tired. I’m going to my study for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Go on. I’ll be fine. I’m going to go up to the roof. Tonight will be cloudless, and watching the stars will be a good way to wind down, now thatbothmy children are home,” she said, reaching up to pat my cheek.
Departing, I headed down the hall and up one flight of stairs to my study. My own library was nothing compared to what I’d found at Ayumundi’s place, but it was still impressive. The shelves were lined with copies of classic shifter-penned novels likeA Dance of FireandBy Tooth and Claw,along with human books ranging fromA Tale of Two CitiestoThe Stand. Along with the fiction tomes, I had a huge array of nonfiction books—history, genealogy, magical grimoires, and ancient journals.
I went to the small cocktail bar hidden beneath the hinged lid of a globe and poured myself two fingers of whiskey. I caught sight of my reflection in the large mirror that made up the southern wall of the room and paused in surprise. After weeks spent on the hunt for Ayumundi, I looked damn near feral.
