I paused. But he read me as if I were ink on the page.

“I will never touch you that way. I will never lay hands on you—I will not hurt you, Camille. I’m sorry . . . I wish I could wipe away what he did, but at least I can help mend the scars.”

The catch in his voice broke my heart. I was not the only one who’d been hurt. Hyto had done his best to destroy both me and his son. He’d made Smoky feel helpless, feel like he could not protect his family. He’d ripped at Smoky’s very sense of self. We would have to mend each other’s wounds.

“My love, kiss me.” I pulled him in then, hungry for his touch. He hesitated, but I pressed my lips to his.

And then his weight was against me and we were leaning back in the bath, with him stretched out against my body. The mood shifted—we needed one another, hungry and desperate to reconnect.

“Camille . . .” He covered my face with kisses, his hair gently dipping into the water to gather me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, not wanting to dally, wanting him to reclaim me, to leave his mark on me that I was his, not Hyto’s. My nipples were taut, stiff against his chest, and he lifted both of us out of the tub.

My legs still wrapped around his waist, he carried me, with both of us dripping and wet, into a chamber off the bath. There, a bed with blue coverings waited. I scarcely glanced at the room, but on the nightstand, I saw a picture of me in a silver frame, and on the other nightstand I caught sight of a picture of me with all three of my loves on the day we brought Trillian into the marriage. Our wedding picture.

“Smoky, don’t ever leave me,” I whispered into his neck, as we stood by the bed.

“You’re mine. Forever mine.” He lay down, reaching for me. “Ride me, my love. Take control—it must be at your own pace.” And then, his hair gently—ever so gently—lifted me by the waist and brought me down astride his hips.

“Hold my arms,” I whispered, and two more strands rose to take hold of my wrists, stretching them wide so my back arched. Held firm, but by my own will, I could feel him waiting below me, pressing against me, making me wet I could barely stand it.

I lifted up and found his eager cock and then, with a wanton cry, slid down on him, the friction driving me wild as he thrust himself into me. I was so slick and he was deliciously thick and wide that I let out a little shriek, squirming against him as his heat began to pulsate through my body. I moaned, my head dropping back as we began to move, synchronizing rhythms.

His hair stroked my back, my sides, my face as he reached up and cupped one of my breasts, squeezing the nipple. With his other hand, he reached around, fingering my ass, slowly working his way in with his index finger. A white-hot flame shot through my body and I let out a low groan as I rode him, rocking against his hips, feeling him drive into me again and again.

We were flying. I opened my eyes to see the clouds building outside the window as we rocked. And all the pain, all the anger, all the fear dropped away as we soared. As we reached the zenith, it started to snow.

“Smoky, love me.” And then I burst into tears, coming hard and fast—my entire body caught up in one giant orgasm of release.

Chapter 23

By the time I finished my bath, this time uninterrupted except by Smoky washing my back, he had found me a long silver dress to wear. It was his mother’s and it dragged on the ground, but her chambermaid tried to pin it up enough so that it looked halfway presentable. I was also bustier than Vishana, and as I glanced in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel that I looked like a wanton love goddess in a makeshift toga.

“I can’t wear this! What if Hotlips is at the Council?” I turned to Smoky, frowning. Hotlips had been his fiancée from an arranged marriage until he’d managed to buy her off.

He smirked. “Is her opinion really of any importance to you? It’s not to me. But as you wish.” He motioned to the maid—who I suspected, from the color of her eyes, was a green dragon. “Find something that truly fits her, please.”

“Yes, Lord.” The maid vanished out of the room.

“She doesn’t talk much, does she?” The woman had barely said a word to me since she’d come in and found us in our second bath of the day. Her eyes had glimmered with a smile, but she’d said nothing other than to curtsey and greet me as Smoky introduced me.

“She’s an indentured servant. Long ago, her father accosted my mother. The Council sentenced his family to serve my mother until the day she dies. Mother chose to train a handful of maids from the sons and daughters and leave it at that. She could have the whole damned family at her beck and call, but she doesn’t abuse privileges.”

“Life in the Dragon Reaches isn’t easy, is it?”

“No.” Smoky was dressed again by the time the maid—I never did catch her name; maybe she didn’t have a public one—returned. She carried a dress similar to the one I’d tried on, but it was shorter and fit better. I slid into it, marveling at the weave of the fabric. It was warm, while appearing to almost float like silk around my body.

“This is lovely. Thank you.” I gave her a warm smile and she returned it before fleeing from the room, only to return with a large platter filled with meats, cheese, and bread. We ate silently.

We were just finishing up the last of the loaf when a soft chime rang through the chamber. Smoky stood, motioning for me to join him. “Time to go. That’s the sound that means the Council will convene shortly.”

As we headed out the door, I wondered what was going to happen. And how. Images tumbled through my mind, broken bits of Hyto’s sneering face, his grasping hands . . . but then it was all moot as we came to the Council chamber and entered.

There, in the center of the floor, lay Hyto, in dragon form. His wings were strapped back, in a rigid framework that looked like a combination of steel and wood and rope. The frame held them in what had to be a painful position. A ball gagged his mouth, strapped over his muzzle, and he could do nothing but thrash on the floor. For all of his sins, I was horrified as I realized just how much humiliation and pain the setup provided. But at a flash of memory of groveling at his feet . . . my horror vanished and I breathed out a long sigh.

Atop the podium were a group of five silver dragons, the center one being the largest dragon in the entire place. He had to be the Wing-Liege. The others gave the air of nobility and I figured they must make up the presiding Council members. The Emperor was nowhere in sight.

As I looked around the stadium, the ledges were filling with dragons, most in their natural form. Vishana was standing to the side, in her dragon form, and as Smoky saw her, he, too, stepped back, and within seconds my husband had transformed into his natural bent.

I was beginning to feel conspicuous.

After a few minutes, the Wing-Liege let out a loud roar and chimes rang through the amphitheater. Everyone quieted down. Then came a spate of words in a language I did not understand. Shortly after that, a flash of shimmers and the entire Council, Smoky, and his mother shifted into human form. The Wing-Liege spoke again, and Hyto shifted, the wingstrap contraption now pinning him to the ground with its weight. What appeared to be a set of guards moved forward to remove it and to hold him in check. Hyto gave me a long look, but he said nothing, did nothing. Simply challenged me with his gaze.

The Wing-Liege spoke again.

“We will stand in this form today because the complainant’s daughter-in-law is involved in the proceedings, and she is not of Dragonkin blood. She is, however, sealed into our society by marriage, and therefore has the right to attend this Council.”

I wanted to thank him but decided to keep my mouth shut. It was too easy to stick my foot in and turn up the temperature.

As the Wing-Liege began to read off something that had been imprinted on a scroll, I phased out. It sounded like an exceedingly boring list of rules and regulations, and although I wanted to pay attention, I had no energy left. I was tired. I was still hurting, and I was worried about the others. Did they think I was dead? Were my sisters trying to track me down?

An hour later the Wing-Liege turned to me and I snapped back to attention. Compared to Hyto, he looked positively old. I was ready to drop—I was exhausted and could barely think. He smiled, his lips pulling back in a feral grin.

“You bear our lengthy discourse with grace, Camille, wife of Iampaatar. We thank you for this—I know you must be weary. But the formalities are done and I would now read the charges against Hyto. If you have any to add, please, feel free after I am finished.” And then he stood and I forced myself to shake out of it and pay attention.

The Wing-Liege moved around the dais till he was standing in front of Hyto, who was being held upright by two guards.

“Hyto, you were cast out of the Dragon Reaches on pain of death. You were sent forth to mend your ways. You were recently caught attempting to murder Vishana, she who denied you, but we gave you one last chance and allowed you your life. For that breach alone, we should have put you to death. But your sins are long and numerous.”

Hyto started to speak, but the Wing-Liege raised his hand and a crackle of lightning played over his lips. Hyto let out a shriek and closed his mouth.

“You kidnapped the wife of Lord Iampaatar. You abused her, raped her, beat her, and forced your collar around her neck. The penalties for those crimes: death. You attacked your son and would have killed him if you could. The penalty for that crime: death. You have lost any lenience we might have given you. You have lost the right to speak in your own behalf.”

He turned back to the Council. “Lady Vishana has given the first right of punishment to her daughter-in-law. Does this meet with your approval?”

The other dragons whispered among themselves. One stood, pushing his chair back. “It does, Your Lordship.”

The Wing-Liege turned to me. “Lady Camille Sepharial te Maria D’Artigo, wife of Lord Iampaatar, you have the first right of punishment. Name Hyto’s method of death, or if you wish to strike the final blow yourself, that is within your right.”

I gulped. They were giving me the choice of how Hyto would die? Even offering me the chance to kill him myself?

Feeling awkward and thrust into the spotlight, I walked up to my enemy and stared him in the face. I’d killed before, and been glad to see some of them die. But this was Smoky’s father, and I’d be ordering his death in cold blood.

Hyto gazed down at me, the sneer still on his face. “Do you have the courage to order my death? You’d better, girl, because if you don’t, I’ll be back. I’ll be after you until the day I die. I’ll kill everyone you love. I’ll destroy everything you hold dear. I’ll rip you to bits, first through your emotions and then by your body. You are my she-devil and I will not rest until I’ve driven you so far into oblivion that you can never reach daylight.”

He meant what he said. If they locked him up, he’d find a way out. His hatred would sustain him. There was no choice—Hyto had to die. And my responsibility included ordering his death. Vishana would, if I couldn’t bring myself to, or Smoky, but this was my battle. Hyto had injured me and it was my duty to claim punishment.

I turned to the waiting dragons—now my people as much as the Fae or the humans. I had married into a powerful clan, and they weren’t squeamish. I couldn’t afford to be weak in their eyes . . . nor in my own.

I turned back to Hyto. “I will not raise my own hand to you—I will never sully myself by touching you again. But I claim your death—for Lady Vishana, for Lord Iampaatar, and for myself. I claim your death through a quick, clean bolt of lightning.” I would not lower myself to his level. As much as I’d wanted to torture him—to make him scream the way he’d made me scream, I would not become what he had become—a sadist.

The Wing-Liege motioned for me to look at him. “Is this your will? That Hyto die by lightning?”

“It is.” I glanced over at Smoky and Vishana, and they both gave me long smiles, nodding their approval. Apparently, I’d passed yet another test.

“Then I pronounce sentence. Hyto, you will die by lightning. Now, here, before another day passes.” Apparently dragons didn’t wait around once they’d made decisions.

Two poles were brought to the center of the pavilion and placed in holes in the floor to hold them upright. Hyto’s arms and legs were fastened with manacles, spreading them wide. His hair moved wildly, but where Vishana had severed the long thick strand, blood had crusted over. I suddenly understood—their hair was part of their bodies. It had a life of its own because it wasn’t just dead keratin.

Hyto said nothing—not another word. He simply grinned his sickly smile, watching me the entire time as they lashed him to the poles. The dragons on the tiers were murmuring, but I got no sense that they were enjoying this. It wasn’t some Roman arena, or goblin death match. This was justice, and they were witnesses to it being carried out.

I looked up to find Smoky and his mother standing by my side. Smoky took my hand and I suddenly felt horrible. I’d just sentenced his father to die. But he gazed down at me and squeezed my fingers.

“It’s all right,” he leaned down to whisper. “This was long coming, and not your fault. You simply got caught in the crossfire.”

“My son is correct.” Vishana leaned down on my other side. “Blame not yourself, Camille. Hyto brought this on himself. He taught me a lot about what not to do—how not to be.” She smiled gently and reached out to cup my chin. “You are lovely . . . granted, at first, I would have rather Iampaatar married a dragon—but that matters no longer. You are family. You will bring your sisters here to meet my children.”