Pia. Eva gripped her shoulder. She looked up. Eva’s gaze glittered brilliantly in the uncertain light. However you did it, I know you saved his life. I wanted to say thank you.

Pia looked away. I have no idea what you’re talking about. But she couldn’t keep the pretense going in the face of Eva’s emotion, and she reached up to squeeze Eva’s calloused hand briefly before pushing it gently away.

A sharp, cold wind blew over the clearing. It dissipated the smoke and brought some much-needed fresh air. A patch of night sky appeared overhead, revealing sharp, bright stars, and a wave of elation washed over her. He was almost here, almost here. She felt as giddy as if they were about to go on their first date.

Not that they had actually dated. Seemed like she should have at least gotten a dinner and a movie for all her trouble. She cocked her head and frowned. Unless she counted that one awful dinner when they fought, and he stormed out for hours, and he made Graydon give her that necklace as a present.

She loved the necklace, but nah, she wasn’t going to count that as a date.

An immense bronze-and-black dragon flew over the trees and plummeted down, his wingspan spread out to the fullest and blocking out the night sky. A couple of the Elves cried out sharply. The dragon landed, not in the small clearing, but directly in the fire, snapping burning trees underneath him like they were matchsticks.

Pia’s pulse thudded as she stared. She knew he could touch coals without getting burned and he could breathe fire, but she had no idea he could immerse himself so completely in a blaze and not be injured.

His gigantic, horned head lifted along a long neck. Great witchy, Powerful eyes fixed on her. Wings still outspread, the dragon drew in a breath. He began to glow brighter and brighter until he shone like molten gold. The brighter he glowed, the duller the forest fire became around him, and the dangerous heat cooled. He was pulling the fire into himself.

Wow, that was a crazy kind of . . . um, hot.

She danced from foot to foot, barely able to contain herself until it was safe enough to approach him. She just loved him so goddamn much.

Then the fire in the forest died completely away, and the only illumination in the clearing was from the shining dragon himself. Gradually he began to dim.

As soon as her skin didn’t throb from the heat, she ran forward. She barely felt her feet touch the ground. As she approached him, Dragos shifted into his human form and raced toward her, his bronzed, machete hewn features thrown into dark shadow by the intense glow in his eyes.

When she was still a few yards away, she leaped. He snatched her out of the air and clenched her to him as she wrapped arms and legs around him. He went to his knees, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, and his Power enveloped her. One tremendous hand cupped the back of her head. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder as he put his face in her neck.

Neither one said anything. Their bruising hold on each other said it all.

That lasted all of thirty seconds or so, until Dragos lifted his head. It took Pia a few moments to realize the vibration she felt in his chest was the source of the deep, rough sound she heard. He was growling.

She straightened to look at him sharply. Still gripping her tight, his brutally handsome features were savage with anger and hatred as he stared over her shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder. A few of the Elves had lit torches, and reflected firelight danced across the clearing again, while in the background the ravaged forest looked black and stark, the burned trees still smoking.

The High Lord stared at them, his face bitter with animosity. Several Elves stood with six-foot longbows, arrows aimed at Pia and Dragos. Well, she was pretty sure they were meant for Dragos, but that meant she was definitely in their sights as well.

As for her psychos, they had stationed themselves in a line on either side of Dragos and Pia. Their crossbows were loaded and aimed at the Elves, and their bodies drawn dangerously tight.

Somebody better think of something fast.

Until that happened, she patted Dragos soothingly on the chest.

“Now, honey,” she said. “You’ve got to stop getting so worked up, or you’ll have a heart attack when you hit middle age.”

ELEVEN

Dragos’s fierce gaze came back down to her, and everything he had ever promised her was there in his eyes.

I never stop thinking about you. You’re with me everywhere I go, but I miss you when we’re apart.

I’ve already shown that I will kill for you. I would also die for you.

You make me laugh. You make me happy. You’re my miracle and my home. If you as much as twitch, I get a hard-on.

I will always come for you, always want you and always need you.

As she remembered every word, she saw past those promises in his gaze to what lay underneath them. He had been so afraid for her it had driven him away from the Games and into possible war.

“Dragos,” she said, very low. “They’re just scared of you. I don’t fully understand what happened, but I believe Calondir didn’t do this. And when I told him you were coming and asked him to stay, he did.”

The feral vibration underneath her palm stilled. That had to be good, right?

Still holding her, he stood upright. Her legs loosened from around his waist, and as she landed on her feet, he swept her gently behind him and held her there.

Oh no. That had to be bad.

“Lower your weapons now,” Dragos said to Calondir. “My mate is present.”

Pia fisted a hand in the thin silk sweater that stretched across Dragos’s wide back and held on to the material tightly. The tension between the two demesne rulers reverberated with the memories of ancient confrontations and unresolved grudges, but she couldn’t keep intervening every time they were rude to each other. At some point Calondir and Dragos had to be the ones to take the next steps.

“And my consort has been taken, along with many loved ones,” Calondir said, his voice ragged from smoke but still filled with Power.

Along with many loved ones? Pia’s fist tightened as any sympathy she felt for Calondir evaporated. They were all under a lot of strain, and now was probably not the best time to parse his words, but damn, that was cold. She didn’t need to hear details, explanations or an apology for misspeaking. He said that in public, and nothing else mattered. She was on Beluviel’s side and ready for divorce court.

Calondir had continued. “I do not have time to fight with you, Cuelebre. Ferion, have your men put up their weapons and go look for survivors. We must gather the largest force we can and prepare to cross over quickly if we are to have any hope of recovering them.”

As Pia peered around Dragos’s arm, Ferion gestured and the Elves lowered their bows. Dragos’s hold relaxed, and she stepped around to his side. She said, “You too, Eva.”

To Captain Psycho’s credit, she didn’t try to argue, nor did she look at Dragos. Instead she said, “Ease up, kids.” The other Wyr relaxed and unloaded their crossbows.

“Spread out,” gritted Ferion. “Comb the area for survivors.”

“Go help them,” Pia told Eva. At that the other woman did hesitate, turning to face her. Pia said telepathically, You’re not needed here at the moment.

Eva’s gaze flickered to Dragos. She said to the group, “You heard her. Let’s go.” The unit joined those who were gathering at one end of the clearing and after a quick consultation, the whole search party dispersed into the Wood.

Ferion stayed with Calondir, along with another tall, Powerful Elf. They bristled as Dragos strode forward. Pia followed more slowly, concerned about further confrontation and taken by the differences between Dragos and the other males.

Dragos’s Power was a roaring inferno that eclipsed the others. Calondir and his two companions were some of the most muscularly built males she had seen among the Elves, but they looked willowy against Dragos’s broad bone structure and raw solid strength. They would need an army to even think about trying to take Dragos down, and at the moment they didn’t have one. Also, as Calondir said, they didn’t have time. She let herself relax slightly.

Dragos stopped several feet away from the other three males, his hands planted on his hips. Ignoring Ferion and the other Elf, he said to Calondir, “Who was it this time?”

For the first time since Pia had seen him, the High Lord looked vulnerable as he took a deep breath and straightened, visibly bracing himself. “Amras Gaeleval, one of the Guardians that closed the Numenlaur passageway after the war. He came with two others.”

His voice heavy with sarcasm, Dragos said, “And you just thought they wanted to catch up on old times so you invited them in.”

Ferion snapped, “They came to us asking for help. One of them was suffering from an old wound that would not heal. Our best seers scanned them, but no one sensed that Amras possessed one of the Machines until he wielded it tonight.”

Pia chewed her lip as she listened, and something else slipped into place.

“I might have sensed it,” she muttered. Dragos swiveled to face her, his expression growing intent. “I picked up on something odd at supper, and I went to tell Beluviel about it earlier this evening, but something stopped me. There were several people present along with this one man who caught my attention. I’m pretty sure he messed with my head. I remember thinking he was one of my best friends when I know I’ve never met him before. He was in my dreams too.” Scorching gold eyes turned murderous. Dragos put a hand on her shoulder, gripping her tightly as she finished, near to tears. “I didn’t say anything to Beluviel that I had originally intended. I just remembered that.”

Calondir, Ferion and the other Elf were watching her closely as well. Calondir said, “Amras is one of our ancients and adept at persuasion, along with other arts. Do not take the burden of this onto your shoulders. It does not belong there.”

The muscles in Dragos’s body had coiled dangerously tight, but his hand was very gentle as he touched her cheek. She felt the brush of his Power along hers, sliding hot and possessive along her cooler energy. Coming up next to the reality of him was an intense shock to the system after the slightly unreal dreams they had shared. It felt like a feast after she had starved for days.

“I do not sense any lasting influence,” he murmured. “But I would like to check more deeply later.”

She could see out of the corner of her eye that all three of the Elves were staring at Dragos as though he had sprouted two spare heads. She had grown used to seeing that expression on other people, and she chose to ignore it. Instead she focused only on Dragos just as he focused on her, and for one fleeting, enchanted moment they shut out the entire world.

She told him, “I dreamed that I went to look out the window and saw that stars were dying. He was there and he said ‘nothing shines forever,’ along with something about paving a way to some kind of new age. This is what the Oracle prophesied, isn’t it?”

Dragos smoothed a strand of her hair back. “It sounds like it.”

It was possible that the search parties would find many more survivors than she believed they would. But even if they did, the Elves had suffered a devastating blow. More people had been asleep than had been awake. The number that might be able to cross over with Calondir and do battle to recover those who were taken would be pitifully small. They prepared for a suicide mission, and she could tell by the High Lord’s expression that he already knew it. Then those that remained would be lost, along with Beluviel and so many others.

And while the concept of the Deus Machinae was new and strange to her, barely more than a passing story, she was pretty sure that it wasn’t a good idea to let one stay in the hands of someone who could willingly cause so many deaths.

She took Dragos’s much larger, harder hand in both of hers. “You know we have to help them, don’t you?”

He turned his hand and curled his long fingers around hers, squeezing lightly.

He said, “I have already summoned the Wyr.”

• • •

He had summoned the Wyr as he raced toward a magical fire that destroyed the Elven Wood and lit the night sky for miles.

The Deus Machinae were only dangerous in proportion to the Power of those who wielded them. When they fell into the hands of those with little Power or no real understanding of what they possessed, the Machinae influenced the world in subtle ways.

The last time Dragos had seen a Machine was almost two hundred and forty years ago. Although he had not touched it, he was fairly certain it had been Hyperion’s, the god of Law. At the time it had appeared in the shape of a quill pen, and one of the most famous human lawmakers in American history had used it to sign the Declaration of Independence.

Now an Elf wielded one of the Machinae again. Only an ancient Elf with an affinity to the elements had the Power to use a Machine to such devastating effect on the environment, and he was NOT GOING TO LET THEM tear the Earth apart again.

The fire had killed the spirit of the Wood. He spared a thought for how that would sadden Pia, as he reached out to Monroe telepathically.

You will call Graydon, he said to the startled gargoyle. Tell him to halt the Games. The High Lord has been attacked, and the Elven Wood is broken. Graydon is to bring a hundred of our strongest, as fast as he can. As soon as you deliver that message, get your ass back to your unit.

Yes, sir, Monroe said. The gargoyle sounded much calmer than he had when he’d answered Pia’s cell phone. I’ll be right there.

Then Dragos raced toward the fiery horizon, willing Pia to be safe with every ounce of his energy. Even though he spoke to her telepathically, his world only settled into rightness when he laid eyes on her. She was bedraggled, sweaty and smeared with ash from the fire, but she was calm, and despite the streaks of blood on her clothing that caused his heart to pound in heavy slugs, she was unharmed.