Kira saw the girl’s eyes first—although the vipera woman hadn’t realized at the time that a wolf’s eyes could project such searing scarlet light. In the stuttering span of a surreal heartbeat the pregnant femme thought the hellish glow coursing closer was fire . . . but there was no choking black smoke constricting the trees, nor did she catch the telltale crackling sound of flames devouring timber. And, obviously, it was pouring rain. The otherworldly paradox of a silent inferno hot enough to burn beneath the roaring of a storm struck Kira with such breathless fascination she found herself transfixed—motionless—her head tilted slightly as she studied the lurid glimmer bouncing off every glossy leaf. Vampire. The word slithered into her skull, a short jolt of adrenalin jumpstarting her pulse. She and Drizzt had not discussed the leeches in much detail, other than to acknowledge their wretched existence in Blossom Forest. Kirastasia knew they drank the blood of living predators, that they could not come out while the sun shone . . . yet to meet one in real life—to witness the shadowy mystery with her own vision—had her trembling with excitement. She knew it: Caidir was home to the vampires. And she was about to glimpse one, in the flesh, as morning beat its fists behind heavy ink-dark thunderclouds.

No more did the tundra damsel regret the sheaths of rain rivering down her body. She patiently awaited the arrival of the midnight monster—and was not disappointed.

The young demoness was startlingly lovely. Nature had painted her cloak with the richest espresso, the earthen shade deepening to ebony as it trickled down her limbs and the elegant point of her muzzle. She might have been the reincarnation of Queens: infamous Dominatrix of Malignant Felicity, Lover of Many, the maple-eyed Monarch who had given birth to Kirastasia and her brother Kavik all those years ago in the place Caidir used to be. Kira felt her heart swell painfully, nostalgia a sweet sickness in her chest. The only thing that prevented her tumultuous emotions from spilling out of control was the scorching hellfire of the dangerous creature’s gaze . . . because nothing could be so far from her mother’s warm honeyed pools than those shimmering twin portals of blood and sunset.

The other female’s brisk and efficient greeting startled Kirastasia out of reminiscing. She blinked, water droplets dribbling from her smoky eyelashes, and broke into a glittering grin. “Oh, my pretty Sweet One—your kindness overwhelms me!” She stepped scaled toes across the border immediately, allowing the vampyress to herd her inward without even an ounce of suspicion. Why should she mistrust the lass’s compassion? There was nothing stopping her from murdering Kira at the gates and glutting on her life-essence; unless Caidir Olc had a secret murder-orgy tradition Kirastais was unaware of, she thought it pointless to peer a gift-stag in the mouth. “You should meet my father sometime. If I showed up on his doorstep instead, he’d have sent me away—or sold my pups into slavery to pay for his hospitality. You’re too kind, really, Miss Diosa.”

The pair wove through Caidir’s impressive jungle undergrowth, finding little relief from the rain despite the closely-clustered canopy of plants. Kirastasia relied on Diosa’s miraculous rubies to light the way; without the vampire’s odd gift, the pregnant wolfess would have stumbled or slipped on slick mire more than once. “I th-think I can make it,” Kira panted, wincing through a particularly vicious contraction. Thank god the hill was only a small one. Thank god the moat that protected Diosa’s bed wasn’t too wide or treacherous. In what seemed like seconds, the rainbow-armored lady had gone from feeling intensely uncomfortable to plagued with agony, her abdomen squeezing so mercilessly it felt as though it were eating itself. Her teeth clenched tight together, mirroring the deep lines of her grimacing face. The network of gigantic roots bound to the excavated soil was the most beautiful thing Kira had ever seen. And when Diosa parted the curtain for her entry, Kira rushed inside like a mad cow charging to freedom.

“C-comfortable? Oh, Sweet One, you’re hysterical.” She nosed her way deeper into the den’s cozy shade, hide quivering with each contraction. “I’ll be comfortable when I finally push these little beasts out. Everything before that is pure hell.” Before she settled herself on the ground, to concentrate on birthing her blessed litter, Kirastasia turned to beam luminously at the princess—this haunted red-eyed child who resembled the former queen of Malignant Felicity more than she realized. “My name is Kirastasia, by the way. And this will not go unrewarded. Thanks darling—you’re an absolute treasure.”

Shuddering, the white ex-heiress tucked herself into the farthest corner of the cave, where the walls pressed in above her and enveloped her in the comforting smell of earth. The first pup arrived so quickly she had to give a thin laugh of surprise; slippery and grey as ash, this little male wore gauntlets of oil-onyx . . . and sported two small bumps upon his brown. Her pulse skipped. Scales . . . AND antlers? No—that didn’t seem right. Kira had never seen a wolf with more than one mutation. She’d assumed that her pups would have one, or another—never both. Uneasy, the ivory fae drew her son close to her teats. Mere seconds after the greedy thing latched on, another wave swept her frame; the second pup arrived smoothly, effortlessly, as if she’d been waiting at the heels of her brother. A serpent’s scales blessed her limbs as well, these a stunning russet; her fur clung to her mucus-slimed body in blonde-and-cream patches; along her nape, the fluffy down of a chick interrupted her wolf’s pelt. Another rush of sickness hit Kirastasia in the gut. Two pups. Two pups with two mutations, two tiny impossibilities, two magic-mutated mongrels. What have I done . . . what have I done?!

She cleaned them nevertheless—frantic sweeps of her tongue to make them clean and fluffy and perfect while they wiggled and suckled against her. The third pup—grey and black like his brother—carried banded snakeskin and nodules on his brow, like his eldest brother. Another prince was welcomed to the world two hours later: steely and sooty, no scales . . . no feathers . . . only the buds of antlers between his ears, like those of his sire. Kira nearly wept with relief, quivering with exhaustion while she pushed him closer to his siblings. The very last little girl met her family right as the storm started to abate. No rainy rhythms accompanied her birth, although Kirastasia kissed the scaled sunshine girl to celebrate her anyway, cooing over her beauty.