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I should be afraid.

  She knew she should be. The last thing she remembered was her dragon screaming at her. For the stupidest reason. Because he cared too much about her, and she couldn’t let him. She’d looked him right in his face while he told her he was done with her…and then the pain took over.

  It was the same fiery sensation, but this time, it took all of her hostage. She’d felt it occupy every single one of her molecules, ripping them to shreds, tearing their bonds apart. And in the terror of what was happening to her, before the death that had taken her lay siege to the last remaining molecule…Ava fought back. And woke up on a beach. In the middle of the day. Naked.

  I should be afraid.

  But she wasn’t. Not even a little. She didn’t even mind that she wasn’t wearing anything. It felt good to not care about something as trivial and binding as clothes. Ava had never put much thought into them anyway. And obviously she was completely alone.

  “Well, this is new.”

  Ava should have shouted for help, hidden her face. The creature stood on the shoreline, not twenty feet from her. It was a woman. Maybe. Her voice spilled over Ava, like hot honey and flashing lights—slow and thick, but fast and stunning. White. She was all white. Her hair, her skin, her dress, her wings, even the irises of her eyes were a blinding, glittering white that made Ava choke.

  “Too much for the little egg?”

  And the thing retracted her wings to her body and became, all at once, different. A watery blonde, tall as an oak, with golden leaves for a gown. Her face would have been sweet if its angles weren’t so sharp.

  “Now you can breathe, I hope.” The woman looked Ava over and gave a disapproving frown. “You don’t mind,” she said. And suddenly, Ava was in her regular clothes, her jeans drenched in salt water. The woman’s mouth twitched into a smile at her handiwork.

  “Ixora.” The woman said, bowing her shimmering head. “And you are?”

  Ava couldn’t even reply with a blink. She stared, her brain not bothering to try to dissect what was happening to it. She had never seen anything like her. It was in the way she moved, in the flutter of her eyelashes, and the stern, assured look in her eyes. Never before did anything or anyone seem so…free.

  “You’re not much for conversation, are you?” The woman, Ixora, tilted a strange head at Ava. Her cheekbones sat much too high, leaving hollows above her jaws. Her eyebrows strained in an unnatural arch that made her decidedly gorgeous and deliciously frightening. “Let’s try to figure out whose daughter you are then.”

  Ava still couldn’t respond. She wanted to force her brain to think, to speak, but still it could not. She could only yearn for what she saw in Ixora. Even when the woman spoke it was if she had no other cares except the sound of her own words.

  “Are you Haven and Abel’s child? Malfoy and Laurin? Or are you a bastard?” The woman aimed a pointed finger at Ava and gave a bright little smile. “You strike me as a bastard, Little Egg.”

  “Ava.” She couldn’t believe she spoke. It was like her will had a mind of its own.

  Ixora touched her chin, trying to think. “Your mother is Ava?”

  “I’m Ava.” Ava pursed her lips. “And I don’t have a mother.”

  Ixora’s eyes lit up. “A spritely one, are we…? Ava…” She said the name as if she was tasting it. “Stand up. Let me get a look at you.”

  “No.” She said it, and the response surprised even herself. She didn’t waver, her voice nearly as clear as Ixora’s.

  “No?” Ixora frowned. “Well, give me back my clothes then.”

  “Take them. I don’t want your clothes.” And she meant it. Just like that she was naked again. “I don’t want anything you or anyone else has to give me.” Instead, she pictured herself in her gray hoodie and her favorite pair of jeans. And there they were. She even gave herself her black and white chucks.

  Ixora threw her long head back and laughed so loud it carried off into the empty sky. And the sky was empty—for there were no clouds or birds or dragons to decorate it.

  And then, as Ava looked, there was one cloud. Then two.

  Ixora nodded her head at them. “Very good. I must say I am impressed that such a new little egg could make clouds for herself. And a pretty ocean. And such clean white sand.” Ixora’s smile gleamed a fiery white. “But you are a strong-willed one. Perhaps we shall have fun with each other from time to time. I haven’t had a decent playmate in a hundred years.”

  As the woman turned to leave, Ava called out, “Wait. Who are you supposed to be? What is this place?”

  Ixora grinned over her shoulder. “I’m the same as you, Ava. A light that will not be put out. Freedom that cannot be chained.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. It is the only thing that our kind cannot change. It is the only truth that we cannot bend.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are a phoenix.”

  Ava felt her chest tighten. No. No, I don’t want to be. She opened her mouth and made words come out. “I’m a regular human. Look at me.”

  Ixora nodded. “Yes, you are quite ordinary. But I sense your will growing in you. I see the gold flowing in your veins. You will hatch, Little Egg, because you will not let yourself be anything less.”

  Ava squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I didn’t choose this.”

  Ixora sighed. “But you did. We all choose our own fates, Little Egg. Even now you choose it.

  “From the moment you were born, your will was too strong to be contained in a mere human vessel. It ought to have killed you. But alas, your will was too strong to let you die. And so you created this for yourself. A way for you to go on forever, trapped between life and death. Some call it immortal. Some call it the greatest of gifts. A way for you to have anything you want. A way for you to be free.”

  “Free? You call this free?” Ava balled her hands into fists. “It hurts. I felt like I was dying.” She paused, remembering everything about herself she hated. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t be close to anyone.” To Cale. I couldn’t be close to Cale.

  But Ixora spread her arms so Ava could see, and she laughed again—

  a wild, shining sound. “Dead to the chains of that sullied world and reborn to perfection. Perfectly free. For all eternity, perfectly free. You will see when you are ready to hatch, Little Egg.” She became her truer self, so golden that she was white, a flash of radiant beauty. “You can’t fight freedom.”

  And she disappeared.

  It was silent again, without the music of Ixora’s voice. Ava remembered how the grey dragon judges had looked at her when they’d seen her glow for the first time, the way their eyes went wide, the way Sirce’s lips curled into a snarl. Even Cale had stood agape, shocked at the possibility of what his rider might be. Could it be real? Could I be…this?

  Ava took in her surroundings, the clouds that littered the blue sky—clouds that hadn’t been there moments before. The woman had said it was Ava who made them. But that wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t something people could comprehend. And before she knew what she’d done, the clouds vanished, and the sky held nothing once again.

  I must be losing my mind, Ava thought. So she tried again. This time, she pictured herself in her blue hoodie, instead of her gray one. And there it was. She closed her eyes and put her hand to her collarbone, missing the warmth of her red dragonstone pendant against her skin. And there it was. Oh my god. She didn’t know whether to smile or check herself for a fever. But she knew one thing for sure. Wherever she was—whatever this world was meant to be—she was free. She could stay. Forever. Wait until she hatched and became like Ixora…beautiful and drenched in power and grace.

  But I promised. I promised.

  She lifted her hands and imagined fire dancing through her fingers, fluttering on her palm. Cale would think it was beautiful. But he doesn’t want me. He thinks I’d rather be here. But is he right? Would I leave him for this place?

  She wiggled her fingers so the
fire swirled through them, then shut her fist, killing the flame in her palm. I promised.

  Four

  Here

  There she was. In her hoodie, her hair damp with seawater, cross-legged on the floor of the spare room.

  She opened her eyes—a swirl of amber and jade, red and green—and her skin prickled with the realization that she wasn’t alone. It had been so different in that other place. Quiet and desolate. She had felt, for the first time in her life, at peace.

  But no more. In an instant, she was surrounded by people she didn’t excpect to see—the O’Hara twins, their yin and yang hair perfect and straight, their mascara-clad eyes wide; Miriam, her frail arm around a rotund Juliette; and even Karma, her still, steely blue eyes trying to assess the situation.

  They were all staring, gasps leaving mouths and disappearing into the air, leaving only questions behind.

  Ava hated the way they looked at her. As if she was a magician, as if she was a freak. As if she was something…else. She wished she could wipe away their gazes, scrub away the attention. It wasn’t any of them she had wanted to see. None of them were the reason she’d left the place with the sea and the sky and the silence.

  Her voice croaked out of her. “Where’s Cale?”

  Ava couldn’t see him from where she stood. Not with the people who’d gathered on his behalf circled around him. Miriam shuffled aside, and there he was, lying on the floor, his eyes closed. Until the moment he heard her call his name. It was a jolt of electricity, calling his drifting core back to life. He sprang forward past the people who’d come because they cared about him. Because Ava had been dead and he had been dying.

  He held Ava and pressed her into his chest so he could hear the easy rhythm of her heart. It sped up at his touch, began to race as he exhaled and pulled away. His hands shook as he took her face in his hands, touched her hair, her cheeks. To Cale, there was nothing and no one else.

  “You were dead,” he whispered, his words breaking.

  Ava saw it. She saw the tears that welled in his eyes because he didn’t care to stop them. She heard the tremor in his voice, the way he forced himself to swallow past it. There were things there, clear on his face, she had never intended for Cale to feel. Pain. Fear. And denial.

  She wanted to reach out for him the way her reached for her. To comfort him somehow—with her touch, with her words. Isn’t that what a good rider should do? But she couldn’t figure out how. What was so easy for him, what used to at least be bearable for her, was too difficult for her to even think of.

  “Why is everyone here?” she managed. But all the while she thought of the truth. A good rider would never have left in the first place. A good rider wouldn’t have to fix problems she created.

  Cale laughed, breathless, and strength funneled through his core, warming him once more.

  “Ava, you were dead.” He shook his head, let every feeling come at him without reserve. The fear was trampled by relief. “You were dead.”

  Carefully, she took his hands from her cheeks. Then she stared at her own palms, turning her hands over. The gold was gone. She was a dull brown once again. “No. That’s crazy.”

  “You were gone. I….” He licked his lips. They were so dry. Everything was so dry. “I know you were gone, Ava. I felt you leave.”

  She wanted to explain. Another place. Another creature. Another reality. But the words….

  Onna, who had been watching with all the rest, got up and put her hand on Cale’s back. “Go drink something, Cale,” she said, so she could push past him and get to his rider. She grabbed Ava by the arm, shoving so that her back was up against the wall. For a thin, long-legged dragon, Onna was strong, and she met Ava’s eyes with fiery browns of her own.

  “I don’t know what the hell you just did, but if you ever….” Her nose and cheeks were so red it looked like the girl, as tough as she seemed, was close to tears. “You almost killed him. And if you ever hurt him like that again, I’ll promise I’ll kill you.”

  Ava had never felt like she owed Onna an explanation for anything before. But they were all there, all sitting in O’Haras’ spare bedroom, because she’d left her dragon. “I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t.” And she spat onto the ground, searing a hole into the plush carpet. “You never do.”

  Cale separated Onna from Ava, angling his body between the two girls. “Enough,” he said, his voice gruff. “Everyone, give us time.”

  A chorus of disapproving chatter. They didn’t want to leave him alone with Ava. What if she disappeared on him again? What if they couldn’t keep his core alive without her? What if she was the poison they’d always knew she was?

  “Give us time,” he said in a half-growl.

  Myra, Miriam, Juliette, and Karma all left. But not Onna, who lingered, and put a hand on Cale’s arm.

  “You should lie down,” she told him. “Have some water.”

  Cale refused to shift his gaze from his rider. “I’m fine now. But thank you, Onna, for your concern.”

  “Cale….”

  “Onna, get out.”

  And she flushed crimson and left without another word.

  Ava stood, her back still against the wall, trying to understand why she was breathing so easily when she should have been panicked, why every muscle was relaxed when she should have been shaking as badly as her dragon. She couldn’t help how her body felt. Ixora had said it was the only thing she couldn’t change—being her. Being a phoenix. But inside of her, there was confusion, chaos, a clashing between how she felt about her dragon and the way her nature begged for her to be free of it.

  Cale was only inches away from her. He closed his eyes, a little smile on his mouth. He listened to the beat of her heart again, the flow of her blood through her veins. “You’re so calm,” he said, letting her slow him down, syncing to her rhythm. “It helps so much.”

  Ava took deep breaths a few more times before she thought of what to say to him. “You’re not okay.”

  He didn’t open his eyes. “I’m fine now.”

  She blinked. “But Onna said….”

  “I’m not lying, Ava. Trust me, I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about what happened before. I just want to stand here for a while. With you.”

  He stepped into her, wrapped his arms around her again, and just stayed. After a few moments, he moved just long enough to take her hands in his. He placed them around his waist for her.

  Seriously? He has to make me give him a hug? I can’t figure out how to put my arms around him after I almost killed him?

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I know you wanted to.”

  She blinked against his chest. “How did you—”

  “Because I know you, Ava.”

  And suddenly, she wanted to cry. But she wouldn’t. Just like she wouldn’t tell him she’d come back for him. Just like she wouldn’t tell him he was wrong. He had always been wrong. She was his biggest mistake.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose, Cale.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “She’s lying.” Her voice floated to them, innocent. Juliette stood in the doorway, her hand on her arched back, the other rubbing her belly. “I can always tell when someone’s lying. I have the gift, you know.”

  Ava shrugged Cale off her, her blood boiling like she’d been tossed into a furnace without warning. “Why don’t you go crawl back into your hole, Juliette. No one asked for your input.”

  She gave a sweet little frown, chin dimpling just a bit. “Why are you so angry, Ava? Because you know I’m right?”

  Unlike Cale, who had been born with the gift of immaculate honesty, Juliette was a truth-reader. She knew when people were being deceptive. It wasn’t the first time she’d called Ava out on her lies.

  “I didn’t do anything on purpose,” Ava said way too loudly. “I don’t even know what happened.”

  “The last part is true,” Juliette said, nodding her head. “But you meant to die. You wanted to. That’s why
I felt your lie.”

  “Enough Juliette,” Cale said. “I don’t want to talk about this. At all.”

  “You wanted to leave us. You wanted to die so you could get away from us, from your dragon. You must be feeling tremendous pressure, Ava.”

  “Yeah? And how would you know something like that?” Ava asked, trying to seem unshaken. “How would you know what it feels like to be responsible for someone you care about? You just sit in your mattress fort and wait for us to bring you food. Your whole life is taken care of for you! So how would you know?”

  “The baby told me.” Juliette frowned. “Can’t you all hear it?”

  “She’s crazy.” Ava shook her head. God, she’s absolutely crazy.

  Juliette chuckled. “Sure seems like I am. But I’ll tell you this, Ava Johnson. I may be crazy, and I may be scared. But I know who I am and what I’m doing. And I am happy. Shiloh and I…we’re both happy.” Then she rolled her giant belly out of the room and scurried down the stairs and into her fort on all fours.

  “I don’t care,” Cale said. “Even if it’s true, I don’t care.”

  But Ava was pacing. “I didn’t go to that place on purpose.” She turned to Cale, feeling more like her regular self—albeit heated. “I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.”

  “I believe you, Ava.”

  But even as she said it, she knew the truth Juliette was speaking of. Life was pressing in on her. And even though new life was surging through her, she already wanted to go back.

  Her hair beginning to dry into a salted ball of frizz, Ava stuffed her clothes into her backpack. She hurried across the room to get her socks, and Cale took everything back out, piece by piece. They circled like that, Ava packing and Cale removing the clothes, throwing them in the closet.

  “You’re not listening to me, Ava.”

  “No, you’re not listening to me.” Ava tried to wrestle her t-shirt from Cale, but he was far too strong, even for her. “Cale, I have to figure out what’s going on. And I have to stop it.”

  “No, you don’t.” He held on to the t-shirt. “Just stay here with me. Be happy with me.”