The little draken swung her head toward the Primal and made a soft trilling sound.

A smile appeared on Ash’s face. “Off.”

My eyes widened as the draken stomped its back foot and emitted a sharp cry.

“Off the table, Jadis,” Ash repeated with patient fondness.

The draken made a sighing sound and hopped down. Spike-tipped wings appeared over the edge of the table as she made quite the disgruntled-sounding yap.

Ash chuckled. “Come here, you little brat.”

Jumping down from the chair, Jadis’s claws tapped on the stone. Ash bent to the side, extending an arm. “She can’t fly yet,” he said as Jadis hopped onto his arm and then into his lap. She trilled, eyes glued to the plate of bacon. “She’s still got a few more months before she can hold her weight for any amount of time. Reaver is just learning to fly.”

I watched him reach over and pick up a slice of bacon. “Can you understand them in this form?”

“I’ve been around them enough to understand them when they’re like this,” he explained as Jadis munched away happily. “For the first six months of their lives, they are in their mortal forms, and then they shift for the first time. They typically remain in draken form for the first several years. That’s not to say you won’t see them in their mortal forms, but I’ve been told it is more comfortable for them to be this way. They mature just like a god or a Primal does—like a mortal for the first eighteen or so years of their life. But during that time, they hit a rapid growth spurt in their draken form. Within a few years, they’ll be nearly Odin’s size, and by the age of maturity, the size of Nektas.”

It was hard to imagine the little thing now eating bacon growing to the size of the massive draken that had greeted us upon entering the Shadowlands. I thought of Davina. “How do they shift from something that’s the size of a mortal to Nektas’s size?” My brows pinched. “Unless he is an incredibly large male in that form, too?”

“He is about the same size as I am,” he said. That was large but nothing like the draken. “You would think it would be painful, but I’ve been told it’s like stripping off too-tight clothing.”

There had to be Primal magic involved. “How long do they live?”

“A very, very long time.”

“As long as the gods?”

“For some, yes.” He glanced over at me. “Reproducing is quite complicated, or so I’m told. One could go several centuries without a fledgling being born.”

Several centuries.

I sat back, swallowing heavily.

“That’s enough.” Ash moved the plate away when she made a grab for it. “Nektas will burn me alive if he finds out I’ve been feeding you bacon.”

“Is Nektas her father?”

“Yes.” His tone thickened as Jadis lifted her head and looked back at him. “Her mother died two years ago.”

My chest constricted. It made my heart ache to think of something so small being motherless.

Jadis lowered her head and vibrant, cobalt eyes met mine. She hummed, lifting her wings.

“She wants to come to you,” Ash told me. “Are you okay with that?”

I nodded quickly, and Ash lowered her to the floor. She was fast, reaching my side and rising onto her hind legs. “What do I do?”

“Just extend your arm. She’ll grab on without using her claws. Luckily, she’s past that stage,” he added with a mutter.

Yikes.

I did what Ash had instructed, and Jadis grabbed onto my arm without hesitation. The press of her paws was cool as she climbed up my arm and then hopped into my lap.

The draken stared at me.

I stared at her.

She made a bleating sound as she swished her tail over my leg.

“You can pet her. She’s not a serpent,” Ash said softly, and when I looked over at him, two of his fingers shielded a corner of his mouth. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten my reaction to those snakes. “She likes the underside of her jaw rubbed.”

Hoping she didn’t view my finger as something as tasty as the bacon, I curled the side of my finger under her jaw. Her scales were bumpy where I imagined the frills would eventually grow around her neck. She immediately tucked her wings back and closed her eyes.

I grinned, a bit awed by the creature. “I still can’t believe I’ve seen draken—that I’m touching one,” I admitted, my grin spreading as she tilted her head. “I read about them in the books chronicling the history of the realms and had seen drawings of them. They were always written as dragons and not draken, but I don’t think many believed the dragons truly existed. I don’t even know if I did, to be honest.”

“It’s probably best that way,” Ash commented. “I do not think either would live very long in the mortal realm, neither draken nor mortal.”

I nodded as Jadis’s neck vibrated against my finger. Mortals tended to destroy things they’d never seen before or were afraid of. “I have a question that feels sort of inappropriate to ask in front of her.”

Ash laughed quietly. “I cannot wait to hear this.”

I wished he wouldn’t laugh. I liked the sound far too much. “Do they eat…?” I pointed at myself with my free hand.

He was smiling again, and that was another thing I wished he wouldn’t do. “They’re hunters by nature, so they eat almost anything—including mortals and gods.”

“Great,” I murmured.

“You shouldn’t worry about that. You’d have to really make a draken mad for it to want to eat you. We’re not nearly as tasty as we probably think we are. Too many bones and not enough meat, apparently.”

“That’s good, then.” I smiled as Jadis pressed her little head against my finger. “How do they act as your guards?”

Ash was quiet for several moments. “They know when a Primal they have become close to has been wounded. They can feel it. They will defend those Primals in certain situations.”

“Like what kinds of situations?”

He finished off his whiskey. “Any that doesn’t involve other Primals. They are forbidden to attack another Primal.”

“Did…did Nektas know what I did before, in the mortal realm, when you walked up on me without announcing your presence?”

“You mean, when you stabbed me in the chest?” He grinned.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling.”

His eyes had changed. They weren’t doing that swirling thing again, but they’d lightened to a shade of pewter. “Your unwillingness to say what you did gives me a little hope that I won’t have to fear another attack.”

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable with that belief,” I muttered. All at once, I wished I actually thought before I spoke—for many reasons.

He laughed, though, and his response equally amused me. I also felt something a lot like shame. “To answer your question, yes. Nektas knew something had happened,” he told me, and my heart skipped against my ribs. “He sensed that I wasn’t seriously injured, though.”

“I stabbed you—” Jadis nudged my hand because it had stopped moving. I returned to rubbing her.

“It was barely a flesh wound.”

“Barely a flesh wound?” I sputtered, offended.

“If you had managed to seriously injure me, Nektas would’ve come for me.”

“Even into the mortal realm?”

“Even there.”

Thank the gods I hadn’t seriously injured the Primal. If so, I’d be nothing but a pile of ashes. “How would he have felt it?”

“He’s bonded to me.” Ash paused. “All who reside here are bonded to me. Just as the draken in the other Courts are bonded to those Primals.”

I swallowed thickly at the further confirmation that I would not survive this. “I really need to get a better grip on my anger.”

Ash laughed. “I don’t know about that. Your anger is…”

“If you say amusing, I’m already going to fail at getting a handle on my anger.”

His answering smile evoked a whole other emotion, one I really hoped he couldn’t sense at the moment. “I was going to say interesting.”

“I’m not sure that’s any better.” I continued scratching Jadis under the jaw, pushing the bubbling unease aside. “I didn’t know about the bonding part.”