In the end, Chloe had saved him, but she’d been forced to delay breaking the spell, and the artifacts of ancient Aleuthea had made it to shore. At least Palemon and his two minions were dead, swept into oblivion. He now needed to destroy the sorcerers and soldiers who’d survived. He would need to make alliances, with men like Kargan, ruler of the Ilean Empire. They both had reason to eradicate the nation of Aleuthea once and for all.

As he seethed, he sensed someone coming up to stand beside him. Forcing calm, he spoke without turning. ‘How are you feeling, Liana?’

‘You can sense me?’

‘I’ve accepted who I am. I will never wear a necklace, or a collar, again.’

‘That makes two of us. But be careful, Dion. I could feel your anger even as I approached.’

He changed the subject. ‘How is Chloe?’

‘Still exhausted. I think it’s more than almost drowning. The magic is catching up to her. She keeps mumbling something about the wind.’

Dion turned and met Liana’s eyes. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Did she tell you that she left Athos before it was safe for her to do so? She wanted to find her sister, but also to find you. You know that she loves—’

Liana looked away as she abruptly stopped speaking. Dion’s skin tingled. He shielded his eyes, staring out to sea.

He glanced at Liana. ‘Can you sense . . . ?’

She nodded.

They appeared in the dawn sky, distant enough to look like a flock of birds, but growing far too large, far too quickly. Wings swept up and down, arcing on both sides of the sinuous bodies they were connected to. The wings were thin as parchment, large as a big ship’s sails. The rising sun shimmered off their scales, glinting like bright light shining from steel.

Dion watched as a dozen silver-scaled dragons came into view.

Their formation was tight, swooping down with discipline and speed. As their features became clear, Dion took in their small but muscular forelimbs and powerful hind legs, their arched necks and angular heads, with protuberances swept back from their skulls, creating a series of knobs almost like a frill.

They were all big, the size of Dion or Liana when changed, but Dion’s mouth dropped open as he saw that they were led from the front by an immense dragon with a wingspan twice the length of any other. If he hadn’t recognized the lead dragon’s irises, the color of molten gold, and sensed his indomitable will, he would never have known who he was, for Dion had seen him before in dragon form but never like this.