herself. She wasn’t young and she wasn’t old, but Aura had been alone long enough to find the idea of a partner appealing. Like the Pyr , nymphs lived long but weren’t immortal. She was pleased that they had that longevity in common.
That was when she knew. The golden apples of the Hesperides. If he would follow her to Hera’s garden, one bite of a golden apple would compel him to speak the truth to her. Then Aura would know, without doubt, the truth in his heart.
Perfect.
She soared over a river that was splashing down from the peaks of Mount Olympus and followed it, racing just above its surface. She spun and spiraled, knowing her dragon was right behind her. She made the water froth and the spray splash high, even as the sparks of the firestorm glowed in her wake.
Thad roared, and she looked back to see his eyes glowing as he pursued her.
“Remember she-who-should-not-be-named,” whispered Arethusa. “It might not be his choice to abandon you.”
Tisiphone. Arethusa had been confident to say the name of the Erinye while they were on Mount Olympus, in the domain of the gods, but here in the land of mortals, she showed more care. That made sense, since Tisiphone was supposed to occupy this realm until she avenged herself upon the Pyr .
Could Tisiphone kill Thad?
She could, without doubt. The Erinyes were merciless and horrible, and never forgot a grudge. Would she kill Thad? Aura couldn’t bear the possibility, no matter what future was between her and Thad. She stilled, a wind falling idle, and he swept around and through her, like a bird soaring through the leaves of a tree. Aura felt a wonderful shiver of heat in the instant that he was closest to her.
The firestorm’s glow faded to a pale light and Thad halted. The change in its light alerted him that he had missed something. He turned with grace and headed back toward her, his eyes bright with resolve.
“You can protect him,” Nephele whispered, her voice distant but clear.
And Aura yearned to do so.
So long as his intentions were true.
Her decision was made.
Aura swirled in the sky before Thad, waiting for him to fly closer. When he drew near her again, she rose beneath his wings, bearing him higher in the sky with the current she could create. He was startled, then eyed the radiance beneath his wings and laughed.
“Aura! It’s you!” he cried. “Let’s fly together.” He beat his wings hard and Aura became a faster wind, pushing him out over the Mediterranean. They swept high in the sky together, higher than Aura had ever flown alone. It was easy to be bold in the company of a dragon, and easy to believe anything was possible in the face of Thad’s optimism and conviction. He made her feel buoyant—and she could buoy him up. Thad’s wings moved so slowly that his flight looked effortless. Even if there was never any more than this, Aura knew she’d never forget this shared moment.
“I’ve never flown so high or so far from shore,” he murmured, his low voice sending a shiver through her. She could have shivered again that his thoughts were such a close echo of her own. “I’ve always wanted to be sure I could land.”
“It’s like you said,” Aura whispered, hoping he could hear her. Most mortals couldn’t hear the speech of the nymphs when they were in their alternate form, but she saw Thad’s head tilt, as if he listened to a faint sound.
“How so?”
“We’re a team. We’re doing more together than apart.”
He laughed then, a joyous sound that made Aura’s heart skip. “Is that how you and your kind speak to each other?” he asked.
“Yes, and you can hear me. Most mortals can’t.”
“Most of them can’t hear us, either, at least not well enough to distinguish the words.”
“Show me how you speak to your kind.”
“It’s old-speak, very low and slow.” Thad took a deep breath. “ Like this. ” The two words hung in the air for what seemed like forever. If Aura hadn’t been listening to him