I flung myself in front of Rowan again, my arms spread wide to deflect any such attack. “Wait!” I yelled. “There has to be another way around this. You want four dragons to replace the ones you had? What about me? I’m a red dragon now, aren’t I? I count as one.”

“You’re a wyvern’s mate,” the First Dragon, lowering his hand.

Rowan, for a third time, wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me back. This time, however, he kissed my cheek and murmured his appreciation for my attempt to save him from the First Dragon.

“But that’s like a dragon lite, right? Rowan said so.”

I swear the First Dragon’s mouth twitched. “Do you know Ysolde?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” I said, confused. “I don’t know anyone of that name.”

“You will. Shortly, too, unless I am mistaken. She will enjoy you greatly. Very well.” He addressed Rowan again. “I accept this wyvern’s mate as payment for one dragon. There are three others for which you must make amends.”

Rowan shook his head. “I don’t know any other dragons who aren’t already in the weyr, other than a couple of the demon hybrids who have been attacking us.”

“Those are not dragonkin,” the First Dragon said with another golden flash of his eyes.

“There has to be something we can do to find others,” I said, more than a hint of a begging tone to my voice. “You can’t just kill Rowan for something he didn’t do. Or rather, something he did but that wasn’t his fault. If your kids hadn’t been so pushy, they wouldn’t have died, you know. I think you should take some of the responsibility for having such headstrong and frankly stupid descendants.”

The First Dragon seemed to consider that. “There is a point in what you say. I won’t agree that it is an encompassing one, but it does bear some truth. Very well, I will allow you payment for a second life in acknowledgment that my children are not always as circumspect as they should be. And for the other two lives?”

Rowan looked helplessly at him. “I have nothing. I’m sorry, I just have nothing.”

“Is it possible to make someone a dragon?” I whispered to him. “Like with your magic powers?”

“No. You need to be mated to be considered part of the dragonkin,” he answered. “The only other way is to be born into it.”

“Ah,” the First Dragon said, eyeing me speculatively, then glancing briefly at Rowan’s red underwear. “Your solution has merit. I will accept that as payment.”

“Accept what—” Rowan started to say, but at that moment, the First Dragon lifted his hands, and the air was suddenly filled with a golden light so bright, it seemed to pierce every bit of me, filling me with joy and love and happiness so intense, I wanted to shout in exultation.

Then just as suddenly, it was gone, and Rowan was on his knees before the First Dragon.

“Your firstborn will fulfill the danegeld. I will grant you an extension of time due to the circumstances.” The First Dragon placed a couple of broken bits of glass in Rowan’s hands. “The shard that was broken when the red sept was destroyed is now yours. Guard my children well, wyvern. Make the world safe for them, and you will carry with you my blessing.”

And then he was gone. He just disappeared, without even so much as a blink. One moment there, the next gone. Rowan staggered to his feet, looking absolutely gob-smacked.

“What… what just happened?” I asked, clutching him when he lurched to the side. “What on earth was that light? Are you okay? You look… odd.”

Rowan held out his arm. Before our eyes, his hand holding the bit of pale pink glass changed, morphed into long red fingers tipped with gold claws.

We both stared in complete, absolute disbelief.

“I think the First Dragon just decided I’d pay for the debt after all.” He looked up and met my gaze. His eyes were now brown, with tiny gold and red flecks. “I think I’m a dragon.”

Twelve

“This… you… how?” Sophea seemed to be having as much trouble understanding what had just happened as Rowan himself.

He flexed his red-scaled fingers and willed them back to normal. It took a couple of tries, but at last his fingers returned to a more familiar shape and color. He glanced at the bits of broken shard that the First Dragon gave him and tucked them away in a pocket.

“How did he do it?” Sophea asked. “How did he make you a dragon?”

“He’s a demigod. He started the dragonkin.” Rowan gave a one-shouldered shrug. “He obviously has the power to increase the tribe. Weyr. Whatever a collective of dragons is.”

“Rawr. It’s a rawr of dragons,” Sophea said absently. She eyed Rowan with speculation. “Your eyes changed. They’re just like they were in my dream.”

He touched the edge of an eye as if it would feel any different. “Are they freaky now?”

“No. Just brown, with really pretty flecks of gold and scarlet in them. How do you feel? Do you hurt?”

“Not really, no. I feel…” He did a brief survey of all his limbs. “I feel different. More…”

“More what?” she prompted when he didn’t finish.

“More… more, I guess. More powerful. Like the world is mine, and all I have to do is reach out and take it. It feels—”

The door was flung open at that moment and several people rushed into the room.

Instantly, Rowan was swamped with emotions—anger, lust, a fierce protective sense that warned him that his mate was in danger, and lastly, irritation. He snarled and pulled Sophea behind him, the better to protect her from the potential threats.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked as he crossed the threshold. May quickly followed with, “We felt something amazing—it was like sunshine streaming through us. It was the First Dragon, wasn’t it? He was here?”

“Yes, he was here,” Sophea answered, moving alongside Rowan with an annoyed look cast his way. “He put on a hell of a show, too. I don’t like him, I have to say. He’s awfully high-handed.”

Another woman entered, saying, “Welcome to the club.” She had long silvery blond hair and was accompanied by a male dragon.

Rowan narrowed his eyes at the man, waiting for him to take even so much as one little move toward Sophea.