Dago woke up disoriented. He felt content, but at the same time, something was bothering him. The soft shapes his body was nestling in, the warmth, the smell of a woman… That was good. What was strange was the belief that he was in his own bed, which was impossible, because, first of all, he never let anyone into his bedroom and second, he never slept in the presence of a woman—after playing, he always went home.

He tried to recall where he was. He remembered Zeno mentioning a party, but it seemed to be next week. The Valentinus’ inn? He came there regularly because the parties attracted women eager for a night of adventure…

Dago frowned. He didn’t remember going out anywhere that evening.

He opened his eyes. The sun rays crept through the carelessly drawn curtains and, reflecting off the diamonds on the ceiling, created asymmetrical patterns on the golden walls. That was the view he contemplated almost every day after waking up.

So he was in his bedroom, after all.

But he was not alone.

When the woman sleeping next to him stirred, Dago froze. He knew those brown curls…

But that was impossible. Hera Galenos would never fall asleep in his arms, with his hand cupping her breast and his cock nestled against her buttocks…

Sweet nightmare, he thought as the sleepy fog around his mind finally lifted. His longtime rival was now his fiancée. He stiffened.

Then he remembered the previous evening. Instead of taking the opportunity to meticulously inspect his room, Hera, clearly distracted by his touch, had allowed him to lead her to her bed. She’d suggested she could caress him. He’d rejected her offer.

Again.

Nyx Nemesis and all nightmares… What was happening to him? He never fell asleep in the presence of anyone; his innate suspicion didn’t allow it. He never let anyone into his bedroom because his draconic instincts fought tooth and claw against it. This was his territory, his den, where he could safely hide himself and his treasures…

He’d also never turned down a sensual proposal he liked. Until now.

For some reason, everything was different. He wasn’t distrustful, nor did he feel the need to fight. The woman sleeping in his arms wasn’t an enemy. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Good morning, sweetsun,” he murmured, sensing the change in Hera’s breathing. Fighting the instinct that urged him to remove the thin white robe wrapped around her body, he squeezed her breast lightly. “Did you sleep well?”

As he expected, Hera stiffened, probably as confused as he’d been moments earlier. He moved his hand to her waist and lifted himself to kiss her shoulder. “Relax, sweetpearl. Nothing happened between us. I want our wedding night to be special.”

She lay still for a moment, but her cheeks were visibly pink. When she turned toward him, he loosened his grip, but it wasn’t enough for her. Looking at him with eyes as round as coins, she slowly and unsubtly moved out of his reach. She must have done it unconsciously, however, because a look of embarrassment crossed her face and the blush on her cheeks darkened. Then she suddenly sat up and, nervously adjusting her dressing gown, mumbled, “I need to go to the toilet.” She slid off the bed and headed for the door, only to stop abruptly and ask with feigned casualness, “How can I open it?”

“It’s opened,” he said, barely containing an amused smile. “The spell works only from outside.”

“Aha.”

Mine, the reptilian voice whispered in his soul, urging him to keep the woman inside. Mine.

Not yet, he thought. He waited until the door closed behind Hera, then pulled himself up to peer behind the bed. The sight of the bottle on the floor, its previously colorless contents now glowing with a soft pink light, brought him a satisfaction so profound that he felt physical pleasure.

But soon.

***

Midais Fortress. This was the common name for Eolia, Dago’s home island, and that was for two reasons. The first and most obvious was the high, steep cliffs that surrounded the island like a wall. The second was the strong, magic-fueled wind that made it impossible to fly over the island. Actually, there was one more element meant to make it harder for outsiders to get into the manor, but the few who knew about it had been asked to keep it a secret. So when Hera heard about the trap-filled dungeon that had to be traversed to get inside, she was genuinely surprised.

“But… we also have to traverse it now?” she asked, carefully avoiding his gaze. After leaving the flying castle on the edge of the windy barrier and swimming to the shore—Dago in dragon form, with her clinging tightly to his back—they were both dripping wet. Now she was drying her clothes with the fiery wing her hand had turned into, and he was using a towel he’d put inside a waterproof bag. “This is your home. Don’t you know any shortcuts?”

“The only shortcut is by air,” he said.

“But… your parents knew you were coming. Why didn’t they deactivate the wind spell?”

“I’m curious about that too.”

Puzzlement made Hera forget herself and look in his direction, but soon she averted her gaze again. “They want to test me?”

“Us,” he corrected her. He reached into the scaly bag and pulled out his clothes. “I guess they don’t fully believe my explanation, so they want proof that we can actually work together.”

He put on a black tunic and sandals and ran his fingers through his hair. Seeing the doubt on Hera’s face, he added, “Lighten up, sweetsun. I know this dungeon inside and out.”

For some reason, these words didn’t seem to comfort Hera. She pointed to a large metal sign attached to the cliff that read: “Private Property. If you break anything, you will pay for it.”

“Is that literally or figuratively?”

“Depends on my parents’ mood.”

Dago led Hera along a narrow beach to a huge boulder, behind which was hidden a triangular stone door.

“Open sesame,” Dago said, performing the Heart Mudra.

“That’s it?” Hera asked when the door opened, revealing the cave. “A basic first-grade spell?”

Dago shrugged. “Not all people are magi, and not all magi were trained in Arkadia. For most, this will be an insurmountable barrier.”

They came inside. Dago made the Phoenix Mudra and intoned while bending and straightening his fingers, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”

Nothing happened.

“You sang ‘star’ too fast,” Hera said.

Dago suppressed his irritation. He’d never liked this spell. For ten years he’d been using lamps of his own design, which were lit by the word “luster.”

“Maybe you want to do it?” he suggested politely, squashing the flame of school rivalry igniting within him.

Hera sang an incantation in a sweet, clear voice. It caused the torch-like lunar lamps to glow with a soft pearly light, revealing the outline of the smooth walls.

She’s my fiancée, he told himself, pushing aside his jealousy. It’s a good thing she’s talented.

Hera read the inscription carved into the portal above the door. “‘Speak a mischievous spell and enter.’” She raised an eyebrow as if she couldn’t believe that anyone actually used that kind of riddle, then said the word “mischievous” loud and clear.

The door before them opened, and the door behind them closed.

“Aha.” Hera glanced over her shoulder, then focused on him. “Is there anything I should know before we go in?”

Dago gestured at the interior of a newly discovered corridor, the walls and floor of which were lined with alternating black and white tiles. The latter gleamed with the faint glow of lightpaint.

“If you touch a white tile, the toffee will spill on your head.”

“That’s all?”

“If you find an obol somewhere, take it. It will be useful later.”

“Why?”

“There will be other doors along the way which will have to be opened with an appropriate spell.”

“Like this one?” Hera pointed to the inscription above the door.

“Not so simple.”

Instead of being concerned, the maga nodded and briskly stepped over the threshold of the dungeon.

Dago stifled a sigh. He should have guessed that instead of feeling intimidated, the woman would take his parents’ challenge as entertainment.

After all, Hera Galenos loved tests.