Adrika knows pain.

She did not know it long. It sheltered in her bones while she faced off against older, stronger, meaner dragons. It festered in her mind on the nights between, sharp teeth gnawing at her every thought.

What if I die?

She did not die. She changed. The pain changed her.

Salpicar is her mate, and she will do anything for him. He will do anything for her.

He does not know that it was his name the Soft first spat. He does not know that Adrika took the trial from him. He does not know. He can never know.

The Soft will never speak.

Salpicar is Soft, and she is Hard. Hard for Salpicar.



The First Nest





She watched as they hatched. They have had many, many hatchlings when Adrika was still Soft, but this would be their first - and perhaps only - clutch from Hard Adrika.

The first two to hatch were as expected. They had Salpicar's Soft genes - they were almost twins, except for their eyes and gender. The third to hatch was a surprise. She was neither Hard, nor was she Soft, but a mix of the two like Adrika had never seen.

Had never seen because the Hard Bloodletters did not generally mix with the Soft.

The hatchling had Salpicar's Soft body but Adrika's Hard wings. She regarded the world with pale lavender eyes, her tiny body crackling with power.

Salpicar peered at the hatchlings. His red eyes fixed on the hatchling that was neither Hard not Soft. "Strange," he rumbled.

"Strong," Adrika said.

Her mate looked at her. "Demona."

Adrika's lip curled in disgust. She disliked the crimson-runed Scribe. The last time she had been subject to one of Demona's pathetic spells she had thrown up from how weak it made her feel. She much preferred Scripa's rituals that left her feeling energised and powerful.

"No," she growled.

Salpicar looked at the hatchlings again. "No," he agreed.