Nynn remained wary. “But wouldn’t it have been an Indranan who blocked me in the first place?”

Ulia scowled. Leto still cringed at the old woman’s free use of such telling expressions. She was too vivacious to be trusted.

“Could’ve been a Northerner. Who knows what those maniacs believe? Maybe they believe we Dragon Kings don’t deserve to be set apart. But we do. Without our powers, we’re no better than humans.”

The tightness of Nynn’s jaw spoke loud and clear. She was offended.

The old woman climbed the steps and settled awkwardly onto the padded floor of the practice Cage. She wrapped a shawl more tightly around her shoulders and spread the fringe along her thin, wiry thighs. “We’ll find a way to undo this damage. Join me.”

Leto was surprised at how quickly Nynn obeyed, even though she walked with a shuffling limp. Her mouth was pursed. Her hands danced restlessly along her hips. A hard frown creased the skin between her pale, angular brows. But she seemed to have renewed the sense of purpose.

He didn’t want to think well of the beating she’d suffered. That he shouldn’t have protested. He shouldn’t have fought. Perhaps the doctor had been right in going to such an extreme. Aster had pushed her to the edge of desperation. She would be a different woman after this.

Leto was surprised at his slight shudder. If he shouldn’t have protested and if he shouldn’t have fought back, then why had watching her suffer hurt worse than the metal that bit into his wrists and the napalm still sizzling under his skin?

It made no sense.

What made sense was that Nynn sat cross-legged in front of Ulia. His neophyte was behaving with more clarity than he was. Time for that to end.

He entered the Cage and backed against its wires. At least Ulia would be more gentle with her charge than how Leto had been treated. He told himself his only concern was making sure Nynn came through the process with as many resources at her disposal as possible.

But then he met Nynn’s eyes.

She was as brave at that moment as he’d ever seen her. A pulse of light shone between them, but he could see through it. See her. What wasn’t possible was possible. At that moment, he didn’t want to distinguish between the two.

Ulia chuckled softly. “So much distance, champion. The light between your gazes says you need to be with this woman.”

Shared light? It was a rumor. An old, old tale. That certain Dragon Kings had the ability to generate shared powers—separate from their individual gifts. It was as unknown to him as life outside of the complex. He could believe on faith or trust his senses. This required some of both. Not his greatest skill.

He inhaled very, very slowly as he looked away. In doing so, the golden glow dissipated. The training arena looked drab and hazy in its absence.

The old woman motioned for him to join them on the floor. “Come. You’re a part of this.”

“The ceremonies are private.”

“But she is to be your partner, in more ways than you see. Trust begins now.”

Again, the word partner rang behind his sternum with more force than it warranted. Yes, Nynn would be his partner in the Cages. He was resigned to that. Ulia, however, suggested a deeper meaning. Her eyes, clouded to the color of dull copper, seemed to hold no malevolence. A by-product of her blindness? Or honest truth?

He forced his unease to abate.

Nynn remained still, even determined, but she was not calm. Tendons stood out from her nape. That shimmering blond silk drew him. The softness. The way it framed her golden features. The memory of its luxurious length—long gone. Her hair was one of the only things he’d ever admired that held no purpose.

Lost now.

He straightened. Walked. Looked down at the pair. “What do I do?”

“Sit with her.”

Rarely did he let another Dragon King direct his actions, but this was quickly becoming very important. A heaviness of purpose, even destiny, hung above their heads. It lowered inch by inch with each passing second. Soon it would touch his shoulders and claw inside until it was reality. He’d resigned himself to such changes before. Easier than thinking about them. Simpler than resisting them.

“No, no.” Ulia waved her hands, dislodging her shawl. “Together. Behind her. Hold her.”

Nynn flinched. “Wait, what?”

“Believe me, child. You will need a link. He is your link to this world, is he not?”

For a long moment, Nynn stared at the Cage floor. The muscles above her collarbones tensed. She nodded once, but her voice was tissue thin when she asked, “Can we just get this over with?”

Kneeling behind Nynn, Leto splayed his legs on either side of hers, in a pose that mimicked how he’d held her after her climb down from the whipping post. She smelled of sweat and blood. There in the Cage, his senses were free to search for more elemental shades of her perfume. The primal bitterness of fear. Salt from her tears. Damp mold from the age-old whipping post. And even him—he smelled his own scent layered over her skin.

Then more and more. Details upon details. He could hear when her heart slowed and sped. See individual hairs prickle to life on her bare left shoulder. Feel the heat of her body with each cell of his. His senses bathed in her.

With his chest gently shielding her injured back, he crossed his arms around her stomach. She tensed, then forced an exhale. Their hands twined. He rested his forehead against her nape, just below where a slight trickle of her blood had crusted.

“Good,” Ulia said. “We’ll begin. Leto, keep this woman safe.”

He did not look at the crone. He was too busy absorbing the cadence of Nynn’s breaths. Until they . . . aligned. He’d never felt anything like it, while four words echoed endlessly in his mind.

Keep this woman safe.

Nynn could not remain stiff. The woman Ulia’s voice intoned sounds like bell chimes, urging Nynn to sink deeper into a recessive state. With her last conscious thoughts, she clutched tighter to Leto’s hands. So intimate once again. Wrapped together. Arms over arms. Legs twined with legs. They sat like lovers offering respite after an arduous task—in their case, surviving Dr. Aster.

They weren’t lovers, but that comforting pose was not entirely unwelcome.

Part of her still rebelled at the idea of including Leto in this ceremony. What if some part of her slipped free? What if Ulia opened his mind, too, and let him see all her secrets? He’d see how much she’d come to rely on him, even desire him. She shivered. He gripped her fingers more tightly.

His presence couldn’t be helped. There was danger in this operation. Ulia could lose her grip on Nynn’s consciousness and leave her somewhere dark and adrift forever. Perhaps a physical anchor—Leto’s body-to-body strength—could help lead her home.

They both faced Ulia. Their skin touched. He burned and she burned. His heavy muscle pinned hers. Pinned, but embraced. Large, strong hands seemed to be everywhere. Or was that her mind slipping? She only sighed when he found more skin to hold. Fingertips, throat, cheek.

The room was dark. Ulia became a bronzed glow between Nynn’s temples. The woman’s lined face, stooped back, and prosthetic leg never materialized. Only the color that matched her faded copper eyes. Nynn blinked against the disorientation.

Leto was there, too. She couldn’t see him. No other senses found him either—smell, touch, sound. Even taste. She wanted more of his taste.

That shock made her struggle past the anesthetizing hold Ulia had over her mind. But again, Leto held her stable. Some element of him, beyond senses. Outside of the darkness, he held their bodies together on the floor of the practice Cage. Held her. Held . . .

What sadness do you bear?