Page 31 of Wedding the Werepanther

“That’d do it,” she says, a wealth of empathy filling her voice.

It only confirms what I’ve long suspected: my witch’s prickliness also comes from feeling like an outcast, from feeling as if she doesn’t fit in. I will change this for her. I will show her she is wanted, exactly as she is.

“Are you ready for your surprise?”

She turns questioning eyes on me and hooks a thumb toward the dragons. “You mean you’ve got something better than this?”

“I certainly hope you think so.” I extend my hand.

As soon as she takes it, I step sideways onto the shadow roads and pull her into a slow jog, willing the road to open in the direction I desire. The shadow roads crisscross all the realms in lines of possibility. It’s the will of each individual cat sith that makes a road manifest for as long as we need it before fading back into intangibility again.

As we cut through gray billows of mist, Kayla’s breaths grow labored, yet she offers not one peep of complaint, her fingers gripping mine with an excited eagerness.

The road forms before me, solidified by my intention. I’ve never been to our destination, so I have to keep my thoughtsfirmly fixed on where I want to go. When my internal compass lets me know we’re getting close, I slow us to a walk and step out into the real world again.

Color and smell and sound dazzle my senses, everything made scintillating by waves of magic so thick the air almost visibly vibrates.

We stand at the edge of a clearing tucked into a small valley, mountains rising high all around. Trees circle us, their smooth bark gleaming like polished silver. Some are the blue birch of Alarria, but there are also two other types. White flowers dot trees with rich-pink leaves, their perfume sweetening the air. Fruits resembling tiny, dark-purple plums dangle in clusters from trees with bright-purple leaves, giving off a mouth-watering scent. Yet as lovely as these trees are, I didn’t bring her here for the plants.

Tiny purple dragonets fill the air, dancing and swirling and chirping at each other as they play. Each adult is about the size of a large cat, and the younglings are smaller than my hand.

Kayla stands transfixed, tears in her eyes, her hands pressed over her mouth, muffling tiny gasps of awe.

An adult gives a high chirp and breaks away from the flock to fly to one of the trees beside us, trailing a line of three babies. The dragonet plucks one of the fruits and pulps the surface with a series of gentle bites, then holds it out. The little ones, who don’t yet have teeth, fall upon it, gumming the softened fruit and swallowing juicy bites of pale purple flesh.

I lean over to whisper, “Surprise.”

“Thank you.” My wife beams at me, her face achingly beautiful with delight. “This is the most magical and adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

My heart leaps. I’ve longed to see her this happy since the day we met. And having done it once, I want to do it again and again.

I want to do it forever.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kayla

Ferndale Falls is a truly magical place to live.

But Faerie! Happiness fills my chest with bubbling lightness, and I walk around like a real-life version of the heart-eyes emoji. I’m downright giddy, and I don’t flipping do giddy!

First, we’re in Shadow’s home realm, with blue-leaved trees and magic humming through the air so thickly I can almost taste it on my tongue.

Then we’re watching dragons do aerial acrobatics above some seriously majestic mountain peaks.

And now this: these mini-dragons are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life!

The parent prepares another fruit for their babies, and the little ones chirp so excitedly the sounds go past the high range of my hearing.

“What are they?” When I went to one of Skye and Luke’s story times at his castle, the dragon babies were bigger than any of the ones here and able to talk.

“They’re called dragonets.”

“Are they dragons like Luke and Jace?”

“No. Much like Earth has several ape-like mammals that share a distant ancestor with humans, this realm has many lizard-like creatures that share a distant ancestor with dragons.”

“So dragonets are sentient, but they’re notsapient,” I say. At his frown of confusion, I add, “Meaning they can’t speak.”