Нора Робертс - The Becoming

“No. But dreams aren’t always literal, are they?”

“No, but it felt real. As if we knew each other, the one I held. I even named him.”

“What name did you give him?”

“Lonrach. That’s strange.” The baby in her arms uncurled, soared away. “How would I know that word?”

“Do you know the meaning?”

“Yes. It means—”

Her heart began to pound, and in the beat another beat. Merging to pulse as one. In her mind, another mind, waiting.

Yearning.

The dragon, red tipped in gold, landed on the top of the cave. And watched her while others circled around and around, a ring of jewels.

Love burst into her, a flood, a force, a gift. And her heart wept from the joy of it.

“It means brilliant, because you are.” Tears blurred her eyes as she stepped closer, and Keegan stepped back. “And here you are. Lonrach. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

He flew down to her while the other dragons circled overhead. In his eyes she saw herself, and knew he saw himself in hers.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” She touched his cheek, then just pressed her own against it. “You’re mine. I’m yours. We’re one. How did you know?” she asked Keegan.

“I’ve known of Lonrach all my life. The dragon who waits for the child of the Fey to come home. To awaken. To become. On the day of the Judgment, you stood, you spoke, you became.”

“I don’t understand, not really.”

“You didn’t see yourself, the light in you, the power of you. When we flew back, and you saw this place, you felt him as you hadn’t before. So the wait was over.”

Overwhelmed, she pressed her face to the glass-smooth scales. “I feel his heart inside mine. I feel it like my own.”

“I know.”

“This is what it’s like for you and Cróga?”

“It is, aye, and for all who make the bond. Now you’ll ride.”

“I can ride him? Yes. Yes, I can. I can. I know how. I don’t have a saddle.”

“We’ll get you one, but you’ll do fine without.”

“He wants to fly.” Drenched and drunk with love, she pressed her cheek to Lonrach again. “He wants it. I feel it.”

“I’ll give you a lift up this first time.” When he stepped over, she turned to Keegan.

“I owe you, so much, for this.”

“You don’t, no, that’s foolish.”

“It’s not, and I do. You knew, you brought me so we could find each other. You knew how and when.” She took his face in her hands, kissed him. “Thank you.”

“Then you’re welcome. Up you go.”

She laid her head down on her dragon’s neck when Keegan boosted her up. “I have to cry a minute. He gets it.”

“All right, if you must. Done?” he asked when she straightened. “For now.” Then she simply thought: Home. Simply put the cottage into her head.

Lonrach rose up. Keegan mounted Cróga to join her.

The dragons roared, a sound of triumph, as she flew over Talamh.

And it was different, she realized, different than being a passenger, as thrilling as that had been. Now the sensation of flying swept through her as if she herself had wings.

Into clouds, around them as the last lights of the sun struck, turned them gold and violet and rose. Over the fields and forests with no sound but the rush of wind.

Then below, she saw Marg and Sedric standing in front of their cottage, faces lifted.

They’d known. Of course they’d known. Laughing, she threw her arms high when Lonrach whipped into a stylish turn because she’d wished it.

Harken streamed up beside her, with Morena riding behind him.

“Welcome, rider!” he called out before they veered away toward the setting sun.

In the valley others came out, to look up, to wave. She saw Aisling with Kavan on her hip, Mahon with Finian on his shoulders.

“How did they all know?”

“Word gets round. It isn’t every day rider and dragon bond and take their first flight. Take a moment for them, fly on a bit, and we’ll circle.”

“I could fly forever.”

She lifted an arm, swept it in a wave to Finola and Seamus, flew low enough to smell the glory of their gardens, hear the cheers of children who ran along the road.

They flew over the lake where as a boy Keegan had lifted the sword from its pale green waters, and on, on over hill and forest before turning back.

“Best you follow me through the portal, as you haven’t gone through this way before on your own.”

As dusk spread and shadows gathered, he banked toward the Welcoming Tree, and Lonrach glided after.

Out of Talamh and into Ireland, over the forest, and toward the bay, and the cottage where lights gleamed from the windows.

When they landed, Breen once again lay herself over her dragon’s sinuous neck.

The door opened. Bollocks bulleted out to leap and race in circles. Lonrach lowered, and the dog rose up on hind legs to lap at the great, majestic head.

“They’ll be good friends,” Breen stated.

“Sure as they’re both yours and you theirs.” Keegan swung down as Brian walked out.

“So his wait’s over. Marco, you’ll want to come out.”

Wiping his hands on a dishcloth, Marco started for the door. “I just want to— Holy shit! Two of them. What are you doing up there, girl?”

“This is Lonrach, and he’s mine.”

Keeping his distance, Marco hooked the cloth in his waistband. “You went and bought a dragon?”

“No. He’s just mine.” She slid down, stroked one hand on the dragon, the other on the dog. “And he’d never hurt you.”

“What’re you gonna do with him?”

“Ride. Learn. Love.”

“Girl, I love you more than my new harp, and that’s a lot. But I ain’t never getting up on that thing.”

With a wink for Breen, Brian put an arm around Marco. “I’m thinking never’s not as long as you think.”

“It’s as long as never. Where’s he going to sleep?”

“Dragon’s Nest. The mountain. He’ll know when I need him. I’ll know when he needs me. Tomorrow,” she said, then stepped back.

With Cróga, he rose up, the wind of wings blowing through her hair. They circled together as the first stars flickered on.

They skimmed over the trees, and away.

“Huh.” Marco just shook his head. “I think we could all use a drink. I got the chicken and dumplings going and put together a charcuterie board. So I think it’s time to show off my bartending skills.”

“I can smell the chicken, and wouldn’t say no to a drink.” Keegan started inside. “And what’s this charcuterie then?”

While Breen and the others dug into Marco’s chicken and dumplings, Shana entered Odran’s private chambers.

He’d sent her an invitation—a command, but she preferred invitation —to dine with him. She’d changed into a more formal gown, one of deep gold with a daringly deep neckline.

She’d draped herself with jewels, and found the servant given her had an acceptable skill with hair. She wore it swept up to showcase her face—and the jewels.

She’d expected grandeur and luxury in the god’s private rooms, but they exceeded even her expectations.

The black glass walls shined like mirrors. Hundreds of candles shot light from stands of polished gold. More gold stood as columns flanking the hearth where a fire blazed. Furnishings, a long divan, wide, high-backed chairs wore gold, silk, or velvet—and really, could one have too much gold?

Jewels dripped from lamps on marble tables, and the windows held views of the night-dark sea.

He sat at his ease at a table set for two, luxuriously with gold plates, crystal goblets, platters of meat, serviettes of gold linen.

She dipped into a deep curtsy. “My lord.”