Chapter 21: Apology Tour
The wind through Hana’s quarters had a voice. It whistled across the jagged cliff face, moaning in the high windows, carrying the chill of the altitude and the faint, mineral scent of the mountain’s hidden heart. Taichi stood before her carved wooden door, the glow from the runes on the frame painting his hands in faint, blue light. He’d taken care with the high-collared robe, but the fabric still scraped against the fresh bite on his shoulder, a tender, persistent reminder.
He knocked, the sound too soft against the wind’s chorus.
The door yanked inward.
Hana stood there, arms crossed, wearing borrowed silks that looked absurdly formal on her. Her hair was a mess, her eyes ringed with the shadows of a sleepless night. She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his throat where a purple bloom peeked above the silver edge of the collar.
“Oh, good,” she said, her voice flat. “The walking baby factory finally shows up. Get in here before you catch a draft and he blames me for chilling his precious incubator.”
She grabbed his wrist and hauled him inside, shutting the door firmly against the howling outside. The room was warmer, lit by a low fire in a hearth shaped like a dragon’s maw. The floorboards groaned underfoot. It felt less like a room and more like the held breath of the mountain itself.
“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to a cushion. She busied herself with a copper kettle over the fire, her movements jerky. “Tea. You look like you need it. Or a tetanus shot. One of those.”
Taichi lowered himself gingerly, a wave of soreness making him wince. The memory of the cold obsidian against his back was a physical imprint. “Hana…”
“Don’t ‘Hana’ me.” She didn’t turn around. “I had to listen to a three-hour dissertation from a very earnest dragon historian this morning. Do you know how many ways your new boyfriend’s species can… reaffirm a bond? It was graphic, Taichi. I now know things about draconic reproductive anatomy that have actively damaged my psyche.”
She brought over two steaming cups, thrusting one into his hands. Finally, she sat opposite him, tucking her legs underneath her. Her stern expression wavered, replaced by a deep, worried scrutiny. “Okay. Start talking. And for the love of god, do not leave out the weird stuff. The weird stuff is all we have to work with.”
Taichi sipped the tea. It was bitter, herbaceous. “He flipped a table.”
“I was there. I was also there for the… subsequent floor display.” She waved a hand. “Table-flipping, noted. Peak caveman behavior, but with more supernatural strength. What I mean is the other stuff. The stuff that’s making you walk like you’ve been riding a horse for a week. The stuff that’s got you wearing turtlenecks in spring.”
He felt a flush creep up his neck. “It’s… intense. It’s not just sex, Hana. It’s like… a circuit completes. When he… when he claims me like that, everything in this place…” He gestured vaguely at the walls. “It acknowledges it. The hum gets louder. The servants look at me differently.”
“They look at you like you’re the queen bee,” Hana muttered. “Or the prize heifer. It’s disconcerting.” She leaned forward. “And you? How do you feel? And don’t give me some moony-eyed ‘it’s wonderful’ crap. I saw your face when he dragged you out of there. You looked terrified.”
Taichi set the cup down, his hands unsteady. The direct hit stripped away his fragile composure. “I am,” he whispered. The admission felt like pulling a splinter. “It feels… necessary. Like scratching an itch down to the bone. When it’s happening, it’s all I am. But after…” He touched his abdomen unconsciously. “After, I can feel them. The… the young. They move. It’s not a pulse anymore. It’s a… shift. Like they’re turning over. And it feels like they’re happy. Sated. And that’s the most terrifying part of all, because what does that make me?”
Hana’s glare softened into something pained. “It makes you their mom, you idiot. A very traumatized, knocked-up-by-a-dragon-lord mom.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “The historian said the bond goes both ways. That your biology is syncing with his, that your… requirements… will become more pronounced as the pregnancy progresses. The hunger, the need for… contact.” She couldn’t keep the blush off her own cheeks. “It’s supposed to ensure the viability of the offspring. And strengthen his hold over you, but hey, silver linings.”
“Great,” Taichi said, a hollow laugh escaping him. “So the table-flipping was just a preview.”
“Probably.” Hana fixed him with a serious look. “Here’s the thing, Tai. You’re in it. You’re past the point of no return, literally brimming with point-of-no-return. So the question isn’t ‘how do I get out,’ it’s ‘how do I survive it with my brain mostly intact?’”
“Do you have an answer?”
“I’m working on it.” She chewed her lip. “The historian also let slip that these… rituals… they’re as much for the clan as they are for you two. It’s a show of strength. Of fertility. Ryuu isn’t just claiming you; he’s demonstrating his power to his people, proving his line is secure. You’re a central player in a political drama written in hormones and claw marks.”
The concept settled over Taichi, colder than the mountain wind. He wasn’t just a mate; he was a symbol. A living banner. The thought was suffocating.
“So what do I do?”
“You get smart,” Hana said, her voice firming. “You use it. If your… condition… gives you influence, then you learn the rules of the game. You ask questions. You find out what happens after the babies are born. What’s expected of you. Of them. You don’t just let yourself be a passive vessel.”
Before Taichi could respond, the air in the room changed. The fire dimmed for a second. The faint, ever-present hum in the stone shifted in pitch, deepening into a recognizable frequency—a signature.
A moment later, a heavy knock sounded on the door, not hesitant like Taichi’s, but a single, authoritative thud.
Hana rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Speak of the devil. And he literally has a devil’s timing.”
The door opened without waiting for a reply. Ryuu filled the frame, having changed into simpler, dark trousers and a tunic that did nothing to diminish his sheer presence. His eyes went immediately to Taichi, scanning him with a possessiveness that was almost tactile. The gold in them simmered.
“It is time,” he said, his voice cutting through the room’s warmth.
“Time for what?” Taichi asked, his heart skipping. “Another dinner? I’m not sure I can handle a second course.”
A ghost of a smile touched Ryuu’s mouth. “No. The Seeing Pool. The mountain’s heart. You will look into the waters. It will show you the threads of what is to come.” His gaze intensified, boring into Taichi. “It will show you our sons.”
The silence that followed was total, broken only by the pop of the fire. Hana’s worried eyes met Taichi’s. This was it. The abstract idea of ‘young’ or ‘offspring’ was about to become a vision. A face. A future.
The soreness in his body, the fear in his heart, all coalesced into a single, sharp point of anticipation. He was going to see them. The knowledge was a precipice.
“Okay,” Taichi heard himself say, his voice strangely calm. He stood up, ignoring the protest of his muscles. He was a symbol, a vessel, a mate. Now, he was going to be a prophet. He walked toward Ryuu, toward the open door and the howling wind, leaving the relative safety of Hana’s worried silence behind.
The path to the mountain’s heart awaited.