Lexyn was happy. For the first time since leaving Loxzua last year, she could smile and not be afraid of what the future held.

The day was as pleasant as any spent in the Volqori wilderness could be. Sunny skies, the white expanse broken by patches of crystalline gelubor, a warm wind blowing off the northern coast, a lover’s hand in hers. She smiled at Pelzyq. “Looking forward to our adventure?”

“What’s not to look forward to,” he said, puffing out his chest as they walked ahead of Dryxl and Maxilla.

After an entire moon in Loxzua, even the drakes were getting along better. Dryxl was as voracious a lover as Pelzyq, Maxilla as enthusiastic a partner as Lexyn herself. They chittered at each other, making cooing noises with their reptilian voices. Yet another reason to feel joy as warmth found a way in the ice.

“Good meals,” Pelzyq said. “Good laughs. Good fights. Good…”

“Love,” Lexyn finished.

Pelzyq winked. The crinkle of his thick eyebrows, the way one lip always rose higher than the other, how the sunlight shone on his broken nose, lifted her as high as any dragon could. People might not see it when they looked at him, but to Lexyn, he was as beautiful as any person could be. Just as it wasn’t Zyryxa’s flawless form that made her beautiful, but the way she would forever fight for what was right, it was Pelzyq’s caring heart that made him gorgeous.

“That was definitely what Pelzyq was about to say,” he said, the group’s master of dry wit.

Lexyn shook her head, but the laughter came out. She didn’t blush as much as she used to, no longer feeling embarrassed about so many things. She squeezed his hand. “Good sex helps too,” she whispered, winking right back at him.

“Good?”

She turned, facing him, walking backwards through the tundra, and shrugged her shoulders. Lexyn no longer felt the need to be constantly alert. Something in the past few moons had changed, and it wasn’t just that she could rely on Zyryxa, Natazia, and Pelzyq to protect her. She believed the sword was sharp, the arrow was sure, and the challenges could be met.

While Pelzyq’s shoulder recovered, while Natazia ruminated on the plan and made excuses to avoid setting off in the direction of Riverwatch, she and Zyryxa spent the Loxzua days training. Lexyn’s father had taught her how to use weapons, but it was Zyryxa that was teaching her she could use weapons, that she was the weapon herself. A big reason she was happy now, leaving Loxzua at seventeen with the warriormark on her forehead, was that she knew she believed in herself. She wasn’t about to become reckless, but the monsters weren’t things she needed to hide from. They were the ones that ought to be afraid of her.

“Good?” Pelzyq repeated, feigning a scoff.

Lexyn gripped his furs, freezing him on the tundra. “You think good isn’t good enough?”

“Nothing about you could be merely good,” Pelzyq said, running his hands down her arms, his voice as smooth as the silk undergarments he loved to comment on when he flung them aside.

She pulled him in, leaving her lips just on the cusp of the kiss. She could feel him wanting to close that final distance, and the tension building as she held him on the edge. “Then I guess we will have to do it again, just to remind me whether or not it is more than merely good.”

“You will be reminded, my beloved. Pelzyq will make sure of this.”

She leaned in, leaving her lips open, but not closing them around his. “Good.”

Laughing, he rushed her. Lexyn who’d spent the moon wrestling with Zyryxa was prepared. The response came on reflex as she caught his rush with a shoulder lock hold, threw him to his back, landed on top, intertwined her legs around his, spread them wide, and pinned his arms over his head. Zyryxa called the maneuver the honeymooner. Indeed, she felt Pelzyq throbbing beneath the furs.

He beamed up at her. “Pelzyq likes this. Much better than when Zyryxa did it to me.”

“Nice honeymooner!” Zyryxa called from ahead. She and Zyrxl were leading their formation. “But you can spread them wider!”

Lexyn spread her legs, placing tension on muscles tight from riding, walking, and not enough daily stretching. Pelzyq yelped. Lexyn couldn’t bear to hear him in pain. She released his legs and arms after a moment, finally giving him that kiss. Everything felt right. This was better than good, greater than great. Practically perfect. She found freedom in his touch, from all the doubts and the fears. Here, she was safe and certain. Even when he ambushed her, rolling her onto her back, it was a laugh that came out.

The laugh only grew stronger when Dryxl mounted Maxilla a few feet away.

“Enough!” Natazia hollered. She and Xilliax rode south of their formation, further from the sea. “It’s time we break inland.”

The other dragon warriors said nothing, knowing that they would take a longer path to Nix Tezyk if it meant keeping Natazia as far from Riverwatch as possible. Much of the planning over the past month had been Natazia shifting back and forth about whether to do the qione trial first or last. When it came down to it, they needed warming supplies the most for the everlasting blizzard and the only reason to do the qione last was to avoid Hatrox. Met with such irrefutable logic, Natazia eventually committed to the journey. Yet, she hadn’t been herself since leaving.

Lexyn wanted to give her a big, warm hug, to tell her that they wouldn’t let him hurt her. Yet, that reassurance only went so far when she tried in the past. She wished she could heal wounds of the mind as easily as those of the flesh. Natazia didn’t deserve to suffer, to fear this monster. She deserved to be happy too.

She nodded, falling back into line behind Natazia as she took the lead, thinking of how often she found Natazia crying in the dark, unable to sleep. Lexyn knew what it was like to have a monster in your head. Even with Pelzyq cuddling her, she still woke in the middle of the night as many days as she slept through, certain that a sabretooth was about to kill him, that she wouldn’t be able to do anything but hide up in a tree until they left. The memory of Hyzqar’s death was never far, and the fear that the same would happen to Pelzyq was starting to overtake it.

Leverith, Divine of Love and Dreams—the Goddess Lexyn prayed to just as much as Qoryxa—seemed determined to haunt her as much as she filled her life with love. Or perhaps it was Zamael, Divine of Death and Corruption, waging eternal conflict with Leverith. Someday, Lexyn hoped the nightmares would end. Not just for her, but for Natazia, for everyone with a monster in their mind. Yes, she would do whatever she could to help Natazia find peace. For that was what everyone deserved.

She lost herself in thoughts as Natazia and Xilliax rounded the edge of a dense gelubor forest. Then, as if from a nightmare, she heard the monster’s roar. Then, a chorus of them. Just like that, a few moons of training were forgotten. Lexyn was a scared sixteen-year-old high in a tree, looking down as the sabretooths ripped into her brother. She froze, the memory colder than any blizzard.

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Zyryxa surged ahead, then drew back, her eyes on Lexyn. Pelzyq gripped her hand. She didn’t see them, didn’t feel them. Her focus snapped to the trees, searching for one with high, sturdy, climbable branches. Finding one, she broke toward the trees, only to be pulled right back.

Convinced a sabretooth had her, she fell to the ground, screaming as she awaited the final bite.

Instead, strong arms lifted her up. Pelzyq cradled her. “Lexyn.” His voice was as soft as his arms were hard. “I’ve got you, Lexyn.”

“She must fight them,” Zyryxa said, her voice sharp. “Come on, Lexyn.” Zyryxa reached her hand out. “You are stronger now. They should fear you.”

Lexyn stared at Zyryxa’s hand, trying to find courage. All she discovered was fear. She felt like her heart would explode, her lungs would burst, that her body would collapse into nothing but bones and flesh without a soul to power them. A sabretooth growled ahead, and Lexyn snapped her eyes shut and screamed. She saw Hyzqar lying in the snow, bloody, broken, unmoving, his eyes open but not seeing. Yet, when she bent over him to apologize for letting him die, it was Pelzyq.

“Pelzyq!”

“I’m here,” Pelzyq said, holding her closer to his warm heart. “I will always protect you, Lexyn.”

“She can protect herself,” Zyryxa snapped, icy, on the verge of yelling. “Lexyn.”

“Give us a moment,” Pelzyq said. When Zyryxa went silent, Pelzyq added, “Look at me, Lex.”

Lexyn opened her eyes to see that most beautiful of smiles. She felt a burst of joy, like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.

“Leverith,” he said, “aren’t you amazing.”

She smiled, and even the not-so-distant hissing could break that. “Not merely good?” she asked, trying not to think about the noises, to see the past or the future.

“Nothing about you could be merely good,” he said, standing her up. Surprisingly, her legs didn’t give out. “I love you, girl. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that?”

Lexyn wiped at her eyes. She nodded, wanting to reciprocate the words but unable to muster the courage through the sobs.

He was steady enough for both of them, like a mountain that couldn’t be knocked over by any force. “Do you believe me? Do you trust me?”

Lexyn nodded again, her heartrate slowing as she focused on his eyes, on the words coming from his lips.

Tears in his eyes, Pelzyq gripped her shoulders. “Then trust that I know you’re strong enough, brave enough, good enough to do this. Let’s go kill these monsters. Together. For Hyzqar.”

Pelzyq reached for her bow, strapped onto Dryxl.

Lexyn shook her head. “No.”

The fear quieting, the feeling buried beneath burst through: a rage so fierce that it felt like her blood boiled. She remembered her brother’s handsome face, the way he used to smile at her, his goofy laugh, the kindness of his touch when he treated her wounds. This was the region where Hyzqar had died, and she didn’t have to imagine that these sabretooths may have been his murderers. She was done running, done hiding. Let her become the sword of Qoryxa’s judgment. Just this once.

Drawing her blade, she dashed toward the sabretooths, roaring the name of her childhood best friend, of the man that gave his life so that she might someday have happy days again.

Five of the monsters surrounded Natazia and Xilliax, her spear and the drake’s low growl keeping them back. Lexyn felt Pelzyq and Zyryxa just behind her, heard their footfall, and the drakes’ too. It didn’t matter. She was a sharpened blade, she was a weapon, and these monsters were nothing but meat.

Two twisted toward her, breaking off from Natazia. One pounced, lifting through the air, fang and claw bared, growl spitting forth. Lexyn stepped into her stance, swept her blade upward. She sliced clean through hide, bone, and into its vitals. The creature fell toward her, dead weight. Lexyn threw it aside, one-handed, pulling the blade free, then lunged toward the second sabretooth. She buried her sword into its open mouth before it could dodge, ripped it out, then severed head from neck.

She heard her companions shouting her name, but only felt herself become one with the sword, just as Zyryxa taught her. Deftly stepping aside one sabretooth’s lunge, she split another’s face in half horizontally, then shoved the next aside, keeping its teeth from closing around her arm. Lexyn moved fast, the steps ingrained in her as well as bandaging any wound. She positioned herself to the side of both sabretooths, chopping at the closer one as it came around her. The sword parted the beast in two, carving through it’s back to its belly.

She roared, blood splattered all over her face and furs. The last sabretooth spared a moment to look from Lexyn to its bisected brother, then broke for the open plains. Lexyn lifted her sword, took aim, and hurled it after the scared, little cat.

The blade buried itself into the monster’s spine. Lexyn was on it in a heartbeat, ripping the sword out, then slashing at the downed beast. Once, twice, thrice, on and on, long after its cries ceased, right until her arms were too sore to lift the blade and the beast was nothing but piles of meat and puddles of blood.

She dropped the sword, huffing as the exhaustion caught up with her. Tears stinging her eyes, she remembered her brother, remembered the girl hiding in the tree, remembered the Scaleless boy she couldn’t save, remembered her nightmares of Pelzyq facing the same fate. “Never again,” she roared. “Never again will you hurt anyone! Never again will I fear you! Never!”

The next few moments passed in a blur. Zyryxa and Natazia celebrated her, calling her things like the Sabretooth Slayer or the Loxzua Lioness. Zyryxa boasted about Lexyn’s speed, her skill, the sharpness of her slices as if it were the most wonderful thing in the whole world. Lexyn was proud, was thankful for her sister’s forging of her skills, but she just wanted to fall into Pelzyq’s arms, to climb atop him, and ride him til the sun set and rose again. She picked him up, carrying him into the gelubor until silk undergarments were the only thing climbing the tree branches, ignoring Zyryxa’s sarcastic remarks about how she would happily process what was left of the sabretooths.

When the riding was done—and proper homage given to Leverith and Qoryxa—she fell into Pelzyq’s arms beneath a sunny sky and crystalline canopy, feeling peace. Breathing heavy, covered in blood and sweat, she intertwined her fingers with his. Her eyes locked onto his, their naked bodies pressed together, and connected in more ways than one.

“You are too good,” she said, kissing his cheek over and over. Lexyn was thankful for him, and for the nirathra herb that let them do this without risking pregnancy. Yet. She knew she held onto the father of her children, the love of her life. In thirteen years, or when they both rode dragons and had clearance from the Ice Champion, she would carry their children.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” she told him, knowing today that it was truer than ever.

She was prepared for a quip about him being “not merely good.” She wasn’t expecting him to break into sobs, to bury his face into her neck, to cling to her like he would die if he let go. Leverith, he was beautiful. Qoryxa, he was more than good. Practically perfect, for her.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Thanks,” he said, weeping. “I… I think I might finally be starting to love me too.”

“Good.”

Their laughter rang through the gelubor as they wiped away at each other’s eyes. Happy days were ahead. Or they would’ve been, if it weren’t for the real monsters in the world.

Natazia crashed into the forest. “Hide,” she said, her voice hushed, her breathing just as rapid as Lexyn’s had been before she faced her fear. Natazia lunged for a hollowed-out tree and made herself as small as she could. Cradling herself, she trembled, burying her head into the back of the tree.

Lexyn reached for her clothes, pulling her top on before she could find her undergarment. Pelzyq dressed beside her, exchanging a shrug, his brow furrowed.

Zyryxa crept toward Lexyn, moving through the forest like a silent assassin. She found Lexyn’s underwear on a tree branch and tossed them her way. “Stay low,” she whispered. “Stay quiet.”

“Why?” Lexyn mouthed, sitting down to put on the rest of her furs.

Zyryxa looked up, clutching her greataxe. She didn’t shake like Natazia, but Lexyn could read the concern in how tightly Zyryxa gripped to the haft.

High above, a dark form eclipsed the sun, casting them all in shadow. Lexyn knew that dragon, a midnight blue, just like her own hair, massive in scale. Coryza. Ridden by the knight of Riverwatch.

Natazia cried in her little hideaway, muttering, “Not him. Not him. Not him.”