The Drone and the Dragon: Betwixt Realms, #4

By Edeline Wrigh

Werewolves can't survive the Faerie Realm.

 

Or so the books say. So why my werewolf girlfriend tried to follow me there? Beats me.

 

Now I'm back in the Faerie Realm on a quest from the centaurs to give the Queen a message. But she has plans that threaten not just me but the balance between worlds. I have to unlock the secrets of my past and my powers as the prophesied Luminescent before the Queen's brewing tempest destroys everything. 

 

No pressure.

 

The magical realms are depending on me, but can I find the courage to fulfill my destiny before it's too late?

 

I hope so, because I don't have a choice.

 

The Drone and the Dragon is the fourth book in the Betwixt Realms paranormal romance series. If you like fast-paced adventure, beautiful women loving women, and finding out your protagonist is a little more than human, you'll love this series from Edeline Wrigh.

 

* * *

 

This is an FFFFF romance with a cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edeline Wrigh
• Release date: Sep 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223937654

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Rosalie’s drone flies around the room, doing what I can only describe as hobbling through the air. It flies into the wall and falls, hitting the floor with a clank , and one of its propellers breaks off.

How did you say it got busted again? Kira asks, picking it and its propeller up. 

She returns the drone to the table, then rotates the propeller in her hands a couple of times, inspecting it for… what, I have no idea.

Rosalie shakes her head, though. I couldn’t tell. The camera feed cut out first.

They’re not supposed to do that, Kira says. Again.

I sip the tea Hazel made us. It’s my third cup, and I’m starting to get a little jittery. I should leave, but so should Hazel. Instead, we’re both watching with a sort of awe.

This technology is, apparently, out of Hazel’s scope of knowledge.

We have to get rid of it, Kira says. Also, again. We shouldn’t have even brought it back here.

"Do we actually know that the locator is still working?" Hazel asks.

Rosalie and Kira stare at her. For a moment, I do, too, but then I drain my cup of tea and move closer to her, shutting my eyes.

Rosalie sighs. We don’t know that it isn’t.

I feel Hazel nod beside me, and I open my eyes again to see her face.

And that’s enough, she hums in response. Got it.

Okay, not to be an asshole, Kira interjects, uncharacteristically stern, but can the two magical creatures maybe leave the room while we troubleshoot the technology?

I blink. Oh, right. I guess that makes sense.

Rosalie’s mouth is a hard line, and it seems like she wants to argue, but something about Kira’s expression makes her change her mind. Sorry, she says to us instead, finally, I don’t think it’s the issue but…

I nod. Of course. But it could be. And it’s better to eliminate all possible variables.

Rosalie nods back. Exactly.

Why would we stop the hard… the propeller from staying on? Hazel asks.

Kira sighs again, then smiles apologetically. "You wouldn’t, but there’s a lot more wrong with it than the broken propeller, so I want to try to figure out that since the propeller is pissing me the fuck off."

I burst into laughter. I can’t help it. It feels so strange to know I used to think of her as meek.

I grab the empty cup and stand, Hazel close behind me. She leads me back to the kitchen, refills the kettle, and starts up the stove.

I’m never going to understand robots, she says, but with a soft smile. Maybe she’s glad she won’t.

I’m never going to understand anything, I shoot back. But mine’s much more sadly; I’m tired, truly, of feeling so behind everyone, and every time I think I have a handle on it, a million new things I don’t know crop up.

Hazel tilts her head. That isn’t true, she says. But that’s all. She doesn’t argue her stance. She also doesn’t need to; I trust her not to lie.

Mostly.

Sometimes, I think she’s searching for ways to soften the future. Like she knows we don’t end Happily Ever After, so she avoids saying either way directly.

She’s also not fae. Which means that, like my family and everyone—or, nearly everyone—I’ve ever known, she’s capable of lying.

You understand more than you know, she says.

It’s cryptic; I’m not sure I follow the sentence, let alone what she’s attempting to get at with it. I try and fail not to overthink it.

Hey, she says after a long couple of moments. "You understand more than you know."

She says this in a voice so atypically informal I go wide-eyed at her, and repeats the phrase with emphasis, like maybe if she does so I’ll understand it more, like she can will her meaning to click into place in my mind. I mouth the words, letting their taste float across my tongue. Then, I shake my head.

She smiles again, as if there’s a secret she’s happy to know and excited to share. "And that you’ll understand soon."

I nod. I believe this, if not all of her more optimistic remarks.

Damn it! Rosalie’s voice comes from the other room, just as the kettle screams. 

Hazel, somehow, is at the stove immediately. She turns the knob, and the whistle slowly dies down.

Something herbal, she mutters to herself, moving through the drawer. She finds something she seems to think is satisfactory and prepares it in a new strainer.

Do you think they’ve figured out whatever they’re trying to figure out? I ask her.

She blinks over at me, then shakes her head. No. It won’t be for another few hours.

Can we work on helping Sylvie?

Unfortunately not, she says. 

I think she sees my face fall, or something, because she elaborates. 

I did want to tell you something about that, though. Sylvie… Sylvie will be fine.

How do you know that? I ask. Not with disbelief; all my feelings aside, I really don’t believe she’d lie to me about something that important. But I also want to understand something more than she’s been willing to tell me, and maybe now I can start putting the pieces together.

I’m determined not to be the damsel in distress anymore.

But I need some damn information to help me do that.

The same way I know everything, she says. Magic.

She grabs the tea kettle and pours water over the prepared strainer into my mug. That I somehow missed her rinsing. It’s all very confusing.

Magic. I repeat the word to try to make sense of it, and in some sort of way, I do. Because of course she has magic; that’s something I’ve known since day one, since before I even knew I was fae, since before I knew vampires and werewolves and the rest of us existed, I’d been told she was a witch. How does that kind of magic work, though?

She smiles again, more widely now, and hands me the mug of tea. She’s removed the strainer. It doesn’t seem like enough time has passed for it to be ready, particularly not an herbal as she’d claimed, but it smells right, so I don’t ask any questions.

She makes eye contact with me, then very directly looks in the direction of the bedroom. Well, one of the two this place has. Once more, we find ourselves stranded somewhere,