I awoke to the soft rumbling of Alys’ breathing. It thrummed through me in a most pleasing fashion, making me feel connected to her in a way I couldn’t put into words. The subtle sound was present at all times, almost like she was constantly winding up for a growl, but I could usually catch it only when we were cuddled up particularly close together.

  To further prove that dragons were just oversized cats, the sound did pick up whenever my dragoness was especially pleased or upset. Seeing as she was currently trailing her claws up and down my back, I was inclined to believe the former was the case.

  “Good morning,” I yawned, shifting slightly so I could look into her eyes. I instantly lost a battle against a flush at the sensation of her scales against my skin, with nothing between us to cushion things.

  Her face was suddenly just as red. Her smile, though, was the picture of unrepentant smugness.

  “Yes. Yes, it is. Almost as good as last night was.” She nodded imperiously, then broke out into giggles when my flush intensified. “What’s the matter? Embarrassed about making our relationship official?”

  “I am not! Though… I am curious. Is there no need for something more…” I brushed my tongue over my teeth, trying to pick out the right words. “Ceremonial, I suppose? For things to be ‘official’?”

  “Of course not.” My dragoness giggled again. She wasn’t one for producing such delightful sounds very often, so I thoroughly enjoyed hearing them. “Marriage comes down to the individuals out here on the frontier. If you have family around, I guess you’d normally get them to acknowledge the relationship, but that’s it. You just inform the elders when you care to.”

  “That’s different. Nice and convenient, but different. So… we are married now?”

  I ignored the spike of anxiety regarding what my Court would likely think and do about that. I felt… warm, and floaty, and happy. And a little sore, to be honest.

  My dragoness had claws. It was easy to forget, since Alys was usually so careful with them. Between her diligence and all her training in woodworking, her control had never lapsed enough for her to damage something accidentally. Not for as long as I’d known her, at least.

  Apparently, that rule didn’t hold when I managed to distract her enough.

  I was very thankful I was a fae and skilled at reinforcing my body with mana.

  “Of course we’re not married,” she scoffed. “I am a draconian. We prefer the term ‘mated’, my mate. Though… hrm. I suppose that’s not official yet, either. It's polite for a couple to wait to use the title until they’ve had their first child together.”

  That made the emotions I was experiencing shift in an entirely different, though no less turbulent, direction.

  “Your expression!” My dragoness erupted into peals of laughter, her wings and arms closing around me tightly. “Don’t worry, my mate. I planned things properly yesterday, and I was careful. There are spells just about anyone can do for that until we are ready.”

  She grinned at me with far too many teeth.

  I ignored the brief flash of what I could only describe as relieved disappointment. Even if it worried me, I found the idea of having children with Alys to be strongly appealing.

  “So this was all… planned?” I drawled, trailing my fingers over the fine scales of her snout.

  “Of course. You were being silly, and I decided to do something about it. You are lucky you wised up before I had to take drastic action.”

  Her voice was pure mirth, but something told me her ‘threat’ wasn’t idle. I renewed my determination to stop letting doubts and similar nonsense get between us again.

  “Lucky me.”

  “You are! You have been upgraded from kobold to mate. That’s a significant promotion right there.” She paused, her smirk growing. “You know that dragons mate for life, right? And that draconians follow the same rule?”

  I rolled my eyes. That was just patently untrue. The whole town had recently encountered rather clear evidence to the contrary.

  Unless, of course, there was a dragon out there who was permanently and passionately in love with an eel.

  “Oh, certainly, I knew that,” I said, deciding not to ask a teasing question about eel-dragon relationships or other bonds between dragons and short-lived races. It strayed too close to more serious matters.

  Alys had already told me she never got to meet her grandfather. Reminding my dragoness that her father was very much mortal, in a poor attempt at a joke, sounded like a horrible idea in that moment.

  It did make me wonder if I could perhaps help on that front, somehow. There were plenty of ways for an alchemist to help a mortal extend their lifespan, though most such potions were ruinously expensive and only delayed the inevitable.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “What’s wrong?” Her hand found my cheek as she whispered the question, having spotted the momentary dip in my mood immediately.

  I nuzzled my face into her hand. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  “Hrm. If you say so.” She narrowed her eyes, but let it go. “And now I’m curious. How does marriage happen in the Autumn Court?”

  I winced. This wasn’t a particularly happy conversation piece, either.

  “For the most part, the family you belong to will arrange a marriage for you. If your family is influential enough, the King himself will make the arrangement. It’s all scheming and politics and jostling for power. My… my parents are an exception in that regard.”

  She didn’t speak. She simply waited. I could tell she had spotted my struggle to discuss my parents, as easily as she always picked up on my reluctance or insecurities, but she wasn’t going to push.

  I couldn’t properly express how much I appreciated her for that. I was also continuously grateful that she had been willing to allow me to set the pace of our relationship, for the most part. It had helped immensely.

  True, something told me she wouldn’t be nearly as patient with me anymore, but that was alright. More than alright. It was worth it to see her shed whatever last inhibitions she had around me, and just… be herself.

  My dragoness was positively glowing that morning, teasing me and smiling and not holding her tongue at all. And I loved it.

  “My parents fell in love,” I explained. “By all the rules, they should have gotten squashed for just deciding they were going to be together. Yet the quality of their match and the fact that it was politically convenient, perfect, really, meant that both Summer and Autumn gave their blessings.”

  That made her eyes widen. Though I had told her who my parents were by name and title, I never went into detail about them. They were still a difficult topic, but I couldn’t continue refusing to discuss them with her. Not when she’d made it clear that we were a family now.

  I wondered what they would think of their new daughter-in-law.

  “Autumn and Summer?” she repeated.

  “Yes. Traditionally, when a couple originates from two different Courts, one of them cuts all ties to their previous family. But my mother’s family equals Belladonnas in status, so both Courts got involved. And, since the match was beneficial all around, they received the blessing of both Court rulers and got away with their insanity. They… they really do love each other.”

  I faltered, thinking back to the interactions I’d witnessed between my parents. They were mostly consumed by their duties, but they usually performed those duties together. And whenever they took a break, they were almost sickeningly loving.

  They were also, apparently, content to express affection for each other while neglecting me.

  During the darker moments of my childhood, I had found a way to explain this to myself: they had chosen each other, but they never really chose me. If magic existed to produce an ideal child, according to the parents’ definition of such, then I didn’t know about it. So, whether they liked me or not, they were stuck with me because they required an heir.

  They didn’t need to love the heir. They just needed the heir to be competent.

  It was so easy to think that way. To try and resent them from start to finish. But then there were the moments that made me wonder if I wasn’t just a necessity to them. Frustratingly rare moments of connection, such as my memory of my mother’s food. These moments hinted at the potential for more, and made me crave it, even if that craving led to nothing but disappointment.

  Alys spoke up, drawing me back into our conversation.

  “So… for the Autumn Court to make our relationship official, Autumn himself would have to recognize it?”

  I offered her a smile that I intended to be teasing, though it probably came across as pained or sad. “Why, do you want to approach him for his blessing?”

  “Hrrrm. No. We don’t need anyone’s permission. You are mine now, fae.” She growled, drawing my full attention to her. Then a somewhat shy expression stole over her face. “And I am yours.”

  My only response was a kiss that quickly escalated in intensity. Those same possessive feelings I had experienced before snuck up on me, making me clutch her closer with the kind of need I had only ever associated with extreme hunger or thirst.

  I didn’t fight it this time. Alys had made it abundantly clear last night that she enjoyed the thought of me feeling that way. After all, it wasn’t far off from a dragon’s experience of a romantic relationship.

  It felt dizzying to give into my emotions so fully, yet also natural, somehow. My mana responded swiftly, reaching out to snare around her and bind us together ever more tightly. Her own mana responded in kind, grasping mine and hoarding it as if afraid I would try to pull away.

  I never once felt even tempted.

  Even in the midst of all that, one thread of thought lingered stubbornly: I resolved, with every fiber of my being, that any children Alys and I had would never feel the way I did as a child. I was going to shower them with enough love and affection that Alys would have to step in to prevent them from turning out completely spoiled. If she didn’t? The world had survived some truly unreasonable dragons and fae over the countless years of its existence.

  It would survive our children, too.

  Resolution made, I threw those thoughts aside in favor of my wonderful new mate’s warmth as her scales heated to a feverish degree under my fingers.

  Everything could wait for a while.

  —

  The cruel dragoness happily bounced around as we plated up the food we had made together. Her exuberance made it difficult for me to maintain the scowl I’d forced onto my features during the process of preparing the meal, when she kept snatching bits of ham and other ingredients before we could even cook them.

  She looked entirely too satisfied as she finally settled into the chair she preferred to use. It was marked out by a large knot in the upper right corner of the backrest, so she could unerringly find it, even when I switched the chairs around. In spite of what she’d already stolen, her eyes sparkled hungrily at the sight of the dishes. She was obviously impatient for me to be seated so she could attack the tribute she was due.

  No sooner had I sat down than the slaughter began. For a few moments, I could only stare at her, awed by the pace at which she was demolishing the food.

  “What?” she asked, defensive, once she spotted my eyes on her.

  “You are adorable.”

  She flushed, somehow more embarrassed by this than by our other recent activities. She had just opened her mouth to respond when a knock sounded on our front door, making us both freeze.

  A moment later, I rose from my seat. “I’ll get it. You can continue eating.”

  “Hrrrm, thank you,” my dragoness said sincerely, already tearing into the lightly toasted sandwich I’d carefully placed on one of the smaller plates.

  “You are —”

  I cut myself off when I tore open the door and saw the Winter Fae waiting there. Though she wasn’t beside herself, by any means, her eyes were wide open and her lips fixed in a grimace of worry and distaste. Perhaps even anger.

  I could tell this wasn’t a social call.

  “Kiri? What’s wrong?”