He means to kill our mate! the dragoness growled.
Let me handle this. She alone had to do this. Her prayers, hopes, and actions had converged in this moment. To save her mate and the Eternal Fyre, she would have to kill her child.
Unworthy.
Could she even expel a fireball without prematurely releasing the sacred flame? The Eternal Fyre raged, a flaming vortex, seeking rebirth, but the odor of Biggs’s malice and hatred had to be cleansed from the temple first. If the Eternal Fyre were released without a pure host, it could flame out and die.
She focused on her son. Through his transparent face shield, his blue eyes were cold, hard, dead. He smelled of hatred and sickliness. He’d poisoned his own fyre, but it had been strong enough to bring him home. Perhaps there was still a spark that would respond. “Your fyre has brought you here. Can you not feel it? The burning inside you? My son, you are part dragon—”
“You first.” He aimed the weapon at her face.
Flames shot from her eyes, her ears, her mouth, and nose. She cried out as the Eternal Fyre shot bolts of lightning from her body. She convulsed, limbs flailing, her head snapping back, her mouth falling open. Writhing in agony, she remained conscious, her body no longer under her command.
“What the fuck?” Biggs swore.
“O’ne!” H’ry shouted.
The Eternal Fyre erupted, bursting out of her in a thundering blaze.
“Noooo!” H’ry dove in front of her as Biggs’s weapon discharged with a deafening report.
The blast hit him dead center in the chest and threw his body across the sanctuary to slam into the wall. He crumpled into a motionless heap.
H’ry…H’ry… She collapsed, wracked by agony and grief. Her son had killed her mate! H’ry had died for her, taking the blast meant for her.
She tried to shift, to release the dragoness, but her powers had been spent by the rebirth. Weeping, clawing the floor, she dragged herself toward her mate’s body.
Overhead, the Eternal Fyre roared and spun in a vortex toward L’yla, who reached out with open arms and mouth and drew the sacred flame into the shelter of her body.
Biggs fired at her, but the shot missed and bounced off the wall. He tore an egg-shaped object from his belt.
L’yla’s eyes glowed amber with power. Flames shot from her fingertips, the streaks of fire merging and swelling into a huge fireball that engulfed Biggs.
In seconds, nothing remained of her son but ash.
O’ne crawled to H’ry’s body.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pain. Burning. Noise. Pressure. The awful smell of charred flesh. Henry peeled his eyelids open to find O’ne draped across him, weeping but alive. But not for long, if he didn’t get up. Where was Biggs now? What was he doing?
“Biggs…” He struggled to rise. He felt like he’d been punched by a battering ram.
O’ne went rigid then sprang to a crouched position. “H’ry?” She gaped like she didn’t believe her eyes.
“In the flesh. More or less,” he groaned and tried to get up.
“Stay here.” She pressed a hand against his chest.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Biggs—I have to stop him.”
“He’s dead. I killed him.” An acolyte stepped forward. “The guardians killed the other twelve who were with him.”
He fell back onto the floor in relief, but his heart could ache now for O’ne who’d lost a child just as she’d found him. Biggs would have killed her and everyone else. Henry covered her hand and held it against his chest, which still hurt like a motherfucker. But why wasn’t he dead? The blaster had hit him dead-on.
“I had no choice,” the woman deadpanned with a blank expression, but he caught a whiff of regret.
“I would have killed him myself if I could have. You did the right thing, L’yla—I mean, Priestess,” O’ne replied.
Thank god L’yla had done the deed and not O’ne. Biggs needed to die, but no mother should be forced to kill her own offspring. “I’m glad it wasn’t you—whoa, wait…what do you mean priestess?” His gaze ping-ponged between the two women, his senses belatedly absorbing the aura around L’yla—and the lack of one around O’ne.
“The sacred flame released me from my obligation and exalted L’yla.” Her lips curved with a beatific smile. “I am free, my mate.”
Call him cynical, but he doubted the Eternal Fyre had intended to do her any favors. More likely, it had jumped out of her in an act of self-preservation. If she had died, the Eternal Fyre would have died with her—along with every Draconian.
“So, you’re not the keeper of the sacred flame anymore?” he verified.
“No.” She shook her head happily.
He peered up at the empty ceiling. “So, where is it?” he whispered.
She shifted her gaze to L’yla.
He widened his eyes. “Oh…”
“Temporarily. The rebirth ritual must occur.” L’yla glanced pointedly at H’ry. “You cannot be present at the ceremony. You must go back to the palace.” She turned to O’ne. I know you desire to accompany him, but we must have a circle of twelve. There is no time to anoint and train a replacement.”
“Of course, I’ll assist,” O’ne agreed and smiled apologetically at H’ry. “I’ll come to the palace as soon as the sacred flame is rebirthed.”
“Do what you need to do. We have a lifetime to be together now.” He rolled to his feet. His inhaler had melted into a blackened lump, and the fabric of his shirt had fused to the pendant underneath.
He peeled off the fabric and tugged the gleaming diamond out of his ruined clothing. Starbursts of light sparked off the diamond, still gleaming even though bits of fabric were stuck to it. “The plasma blast hit the diamond!” He rubbed his sore chest. He was bruised from the
