For over a year, Lexyn had wished she could return to a better place and better times. She spent hundreds of nights in the upper branches of gelubor, dreaming of the safety of stone walls. Journeying across expanses of snow and unrelenting cold, longing for the hearthfire in her family’s common room. Carrying the truth of Hyzqar’s death in silence, yearning for the sounds of a forbidden “I love you” from her mother, father, and little brother. Even in the past moon, as she found a new family in Zyryxa, Pelzyq, and Natazia, her heart called for the family Volqor said she couldn’t have anymore.

She tried to accept the way things must be now that she was a dragon warrior of the Ice Tribe. But accepting didn’t equate to approving. She could accept that her regimented training with Zyryxa and Natazia was honing her into a deadly weapon, but she couldn’t approve of living the life of a discriminating killer when her heart longed to be an indiscriminating healer. Lexyn accepted that she was thrust on the path of Qoryxa—of power, beauty, and compassion, as Zyryxa preached—but couldn’t approve when it felt like she was straying from Leverith. Seeing Leverith’s sculpture again—a beautiful woman holding a flower—after three-hundred-seventy-two days made her freeze in her tracks.

Now that she was finally home, she didn’t know if she could walk through the doors and face the reality. Would her father and brother acknowledge her? Would her mother blame her for Hyzqar’s death? Would they be ashamed of what she was becoming? By the laws and traditions of Volqor, she didn’t belong at the clinic. These familiar stone walls, the family signpost, even the sculpture of Leverith, weren’t hers anymore. This wasn’t her home; it never would be again. Worse, she knew she didn’t belong in her new family either.

Lexyn clung to Dryxl’s reins for stability, feeling crushingly alone. No one without pure Volqori blood had ever bonded a dragon before. Why would Lexyn of all people be the first? She didn’t complete the Rite of the Dragon Warrior without breaking the rules. She couldn’t tolerate the cold as well as her broodmates. She couldn’t face a sabretooth without running for the nearest tree. How could she face a full dragon and convince it she was worthy? She was so far behind, she could never catch up. Lexyn would help her brood with her medica knowledge and her bow, but they’d have to leave her behind when they alighted and she remained grounded.

So, this is my fate, Lexyn thought, her hands making fists on the reins of both drakes. I’m destined to be caught between two worlds, never fully belonging to either. The realization cracked her like a warhammer striking down upon an ice sculpture. She would never be the knight or the healer. She would never be enough.

She stood there in the streets of Loxzua, breaking inside as cracks that she long ignored spread through her. This broken child who couldn’t be the daughter of Halette and Lexyq gazed at her home of sixteen years realizing all she stared at was the living memory of a past she couldn’t return to. Lexyn couldn’t take another step. Not home, not away, not in any direction. She froze, wishing things could be different, wishing either her family had moved to Leveria before she turned sixteen or that her blood had been pure, that she was strong enough to weather the ice of Volqor.

But, alas, she was only herself. Just Lexyn, the girl who watched powerlessly as her brother died. How could she even dare to go into the clinic and look her parents in the eye? How could she keep pretending that she would be good enough for Zyryxa, Pelzyq, and Natazia? Soon enough, she would get them killed too. Then, those that remained would discover her for the imposter she was. And finally leave her behind.

A rough hand wrapped around hers, holding gently. Lexyn startled at the sudden touch, her heart pounding as if she’d been ambushed by sabretooths. It took her several moments to recover before she could meet Pelzyq’s somber gaze.

“Nervous?” he asked.

Lexyn wanted to deny it. A part of her was ashamed that she couldn’t appear as indomitable as her other broodmates. But like many other things her companions could do, she couldn’t. A nod and a mousy squeak were the best she could do. Neither felt good enough.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, his deep voice was tender. Something he reserved just for her.

Lexyn glanced at her feet. “I’m afraid that I don’t belong here.” She struggled with her voice, unable to finish. I’m afraid I don’t belong anywhere.

“Ah,” he said, as if this eased his nerves, making her wonder what he had been worried about. She had neither the time nor the frame of mind to process that.

“I doubt that is true,” he said as if it were certain.

His confidence infuriated her. “How do you know?” she snapped. Well, she snapped in as much as she ever snapped. Not like a dragon, as her companions would, but as a little mouse. Small, squeaky, and quickly losing its anger in the face of danger.

Pelzyq looked at her like she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. She wanted to tell him to stop looking at her like she was silly for doubting herself, but she doubted herself too much to say anything. Lexyn lowered her eyes, only for him to lift her chin, reconnecting their gazes.

“Because,” he said, “if these people are the ones that taught you to be who you are, there is no way they wouldn’t make you feel like you were coming home.” He winked. “I know because for the first time in my life, I have someone who makes me feel like I am home.”

Like light bursting through a dark canopy, she smiled at him, her hand gripping his tighter. I love you, she thought, speaking the words with her eyes the same he spoke them with his.

“You will always have a place here,” Pelzyq said, tilting his head toward the clinic. “And here,” he said, bringing their hands to his heart. “And here,” he said, closing her in a warm embrace. “You belong wherever you want to,” he told her. He kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning into him. She closed her eyes and dreamt that everything would be okay. She wasn’t alone. She couldn’t be as long as Pelzyq was in her life.

Leverith! She felt much better. She knew these feelings would return with the doubts at the next deluge, but as long as she stuck with Pelzyq and Zyryxa, she’d keep swimming through them. Perhaps one day, she wouldn’t need to anymore. Until then, she had to work hard to remember that people believed in her and wanted her. Remembering that, she felt their expectations pressing down on her, knowing she would break at some point. The deluge of doubt returned, as quickly as it had left, convincing her of her own weakness.

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“I’m…” she stalled, shaking.

“Beautiful?” he said, raising his eyebrows at her until she snorted. “Yes, you are. In more ways than one.”

It felt good to giggle, to be looked at like you were the most special person in somebody else’s world. It was wonderful. And… and she just knew she would make a mistake at some point. The words rushed out in a panicked wave. “I’m afraid that I will let you down.” She bit her lip, trying not to cry. “My weakness will get you hurt, or, or worse.”

He caressed her cheek. “First, you’re not weak. Remember what the bard said?”

Lexyn nodded. She recalled Matyxal’s final words to her, her belief that Lexyn had everything she needed within her. “I wished I had as much faith in myself as she did. I wish I could just believe that being half-blooded wasn’t going to get you all killed, or leave me stuck on the ground when the rest of you soar.”

“You will soar,” Pelzyq promised. “I’d bet my life on it, Lexyn.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “I’ve yet to see you give me a reason to doubt you. If anything, you’ve saved us more than we’ve saved you. Where would I be if you hadn’t shown up against the white wyrm. Eh?” He held her hand so tightly it almost hurt. “Even when you have a bad day, just know that I’ll do my best to make up for it. Besides,” he grinned, “we will always have the Ice Princess to carry us to victory. We can afford to be imperfect.”

Lexyn beamed. “Because together, we will be enough.”

“Exactly.” He put his hands under her shoulders and lifted her up, his tremendous strength making her feel weightless. “We will lift each other up. Remember, my heart, that you’re not carrying it all on your own.” He set her down, and pinched her cheek.

“I’ll try,” she promised, running her hands up his arms. Then, feeling a burst of joy, she lifted him up. Packed with the density of his pure Volqori physiology, he had to weigh four hundred pounds. For all that, she was strong enough to lift him off the ground. Giggling, she set him down, and pinched his cheek.

They laughed. How could she feel alone when Pelzyq was near? She realized another thing. “No matter what I discover in there, I know that I will still have a home when I leave.”

“Divinedamned straight,” he said, clapping her arms until she burst into another wave of giggles.

Feeling freed, feeling brave, she eyed the entry, where Volqori folk had been coming and going while she and Pelzyq lingered on the street corner. She took the first step, then remembered something that got swept aside in their conversation, but was no less important to her. “Why are you nervous?”

He snorted. “Pelzyq is not nervous.”

Her lips curled up into a knowing smile. “Pelzyq only refers to himself as Pelzyq when he isn’t being fully open.”

He forced a grin. “Pelzyq didn’t know this.”

“Lexyn did.” She took his hand. “Why are you worried, my heart?”

Pelzyq coughed. “I’ve never been…” He looked away from her.

Lexyn puzzled, remembering the stories he shared at their fires. “You’ve never been too popular with parents.”

Pelzyq shook his head. “No.” He met her eyes. “Look at you.” He pulled his hand free and gestured at her. “Why would any parent want a daughter like you to be with a brute like me?”

Lexyn frowned. Yes, people might judge appearances and say she was too good for him. Yes, they might hear them speak and wonder why the intelligent and caring woman was with a man who seemed stupid and brash. She knew how Zyryxa had struggled to with whether Pelzyq was “good enough” for her. Yet, even Zyryxa seemed to be softening toward Pelzyq since the night they sat by the fire.

“Listen,” Lexyn said, taking his hand back, “anybody who knows us, knows that you’re good for me. Qoryxa’s flaming eyes! If they listened to how you just talked me through my doubts, they’d know you’re more than some brute trying to lay me down.” Lexyn swallowed, feeling readier each day to be laid down. At this point, she just didn’t want to get pregnant. Bless Leverith, Loxzua had the answer to that problem. Tonight, if the setting and mood was right, she’d see what all the fuss was about.

“But they don’t know me,” he said.

“Then,” Lexyn stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, “I’ll make sure they do. If they choose to see with bad eyes, we can walk out the door and know that home is where our heart is. And you,” she hugged him with all her strength, “are my heart.”

He closed the embrace, thankfully holding back at least a bit. “I love you.”

“Finally,” she said, smirking into his shoulder, stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

“Eh?”

“I said that to you seven days ago, Pelzyq.”

He snorted. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay,” she said, leaning back and beaming up at him. “I’ve kept you waiting too.”

“Have you? As far as I know, you’ve given me everything I ever thought I wanted.” He pinched her cheek, which certainly was in bloom right now.

“Not everything,” she said, fluttering her eyes before dropping her gaze toward his crotch. “Ever heard of nirathra?”

He puckered his lips and shook his head. “I bet I’m about too though.”

Lexyn bit her lip. She massaged his thigh. His mouth fell open. “Nope,” she said. “I’ll keep you waiting. Seven days should do.” She leaned back, then pulled away.

Dryxl, ever the king of good timing and good times in general, chose now to try and mount Maxilla again. Lexyn shoved him aside, handing Maxilla’s reins to his reluctant owner. “Maybe Dryxl needs this nirathra?”

Lexyn shook her head. “Or perhaps Maxilla should be kept by her own keeper.”

“Blaming the woman for the man being unable to contain his lust?”

“Never,” she said quickly, loving the way he bandied words and made her feel like she wasn’t awkward. “Blaming the father for not protecting his daughter.”

“Ah,” he said, rubbing his chin as he pulled Maxilla away from Dryxl. “And not the mother for failing to train her son not to mount everything he sees.”

Lexyn sniggered. She was beaten. She couldn’t victim blame her way out of this one. “I suppose we all have things we could do better.”

“Some more than others,” Pelzyq said, leaning in close. “What is nirathra?”

She leaned in until their noses almost touched. “I love you.”

Grinning triumphantly, she left him there and fixed Dryxl to a post. It wasn’t uncommon at all to see drakes in Loxzua, but it felt strange for her to be leaving one at her family’s post after years of seeing Zyrthalla and Gaeliz’s warriors do it.

“Coming?” she asked Pelzyq, who had frozen to the spot where she left him. He could be dramatic sometimes, but only when he thought it was amusing. Fortunately, she thought it amusing too now that she knew from whence it came.

“Sorry, I have to stand here for seven days.”

Lexyn snorted, gripped his hand, and pulled him toward the clinic, making sure to set Maxilla to a post far from Dryxl. For the past year, she didn’t imagine returning home hand-in-hand with a man. Then again, she doubted she’d ever return home from her death sentence in the wilds, let alone as part of a brood that didn’t just survive the Rite of the Dragon Warrior, but were assigned to complete the five tasks. She didn’t know what the future held for her inside these walls, but she knew that the future held something as long as she held on to this wild, dramatic, protective, loving man.

Together, they opened the door, entering into a world that was once hers. She hoped she still had a place in it, even if it wasn’t where she needed to be.