Valcor smirked. “Even dead, you might still be a target, Irene. Merlin wrote that a deceased woman can be a hostiam providing, of course, the body has not been dead for very long. But Devin would have no need to hunt for corpses. If he had succeeded in usurping the throne, he would have had his choice of women. Morgan would have entered his wife and become queen, and Devin would have the power to rule the world. I believe Devin would have put up with a witch of a wife for a prize like that.”
A distant howl drifted into the tent. Valcor pushed the entrance flap to the side and leaned out for a moment, then ducked back in. “So Devin and Morgan had an understanding. She would provide him with power, with influence in high places, and he, in turn, would use that power to become king, get married, then provide Morgan with a woman to possess. But since his rebellion has failed, Morgan might not wait for him to try again.”
Irene raised a finger to her chest. “But if any legal female relative can serve as host, then I really would be a candidate, would I not, since I am an adopted daughter?”
Valcor nodded. “You would be, yes.”
“Then why does Devin seek to kill me?”
“Because,” Valcor replied, stroking his chin, “he has merely identified you as a former dragon. He hasn’t yet made the connection that you are also in the royal line. So you have peril either way. If you are a dragon, Devin wants you dead. If you are an heir, Morgan would prefer to take your body alive, yet in such a way that you would be better off dead. I believe, however, that Devin’s bloodlust will override his desire to search for Morgan’s hostiam, so he will likely try to kill you until the day he dies.”
“If he ever dies,” Irene added.
Jared lifted his brow. “If? Why do you say if?”
“Haven’t you noticed his new youthfulness?” Irene brushed her finger across her calf. “He shows no sign of the leg wound I gave him when I fought with him. If Morgan’s evil handiwork has given him healing power, then who knows how long he might live?”
“So,” Valcor said, “the presence of a seemingly deathless stalker means that we must go into hiding permanently. The farther apart we live and the less we communicate with each other, the more difficult it will be for Devin and Morgan to find us all.”
Valcor began to rise, but Irene pulled on his sleeve. “Wait. I have something for you.” She opened her palm. Two spherical red stones rolled to the edge of her hand, looking like a pair of polished cranberries at the peak of harvest. “When you gave me Makaidos’s rubellite, it reminded me of its meaning to the dragon race, so I went back to Bald Top to search for other rubellites. I assumed they fell to the ground when we were transformed, so I thought they might still be up there.”
Irene seesawed her hand, letting the gems roll from side to side. “I found two in the grass, the lighter of these gems and another one I put away in a safe place.” She plucked the darker of the two stones from her palm and gave it to Valcor. “Dear brother, this is our father’s, the one you gave to me, and I ask you, as his son, to take it back.” She handed the other stone to Jared. “Always remember what we once were. If you ever procreate, pass yours along to your progeny at the appropriate time.”
Closing his fingers around his rubellite, Jared nodded. “I will. You can count on it.”
Valcor’s lips parted as if to speak, but, as his face reddened, he just lowered his head.
Irene’s blue eyes sparkled. “As these gems reflect the vitality of your mortal essence, may you always reflect the nobility of our race through your courage, your integrity, and your sacrifice.”
Valcor stood and bowed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He rolled a tear onto his finger and held it out for Jared and Irene to see. “How rare were the tears of a dragon. We once lived in Paradise, and because of the corruption of an angel disguised as a dragon, all the world was cast into darkness. Now, as humans, we shed many tears for what was lost, for what might have been, and for the end of friendships. Good-bye,