Paladin
Author: Nicole Conway
Date: 2023-07-04 07:00:00+00:00
Description: Coming Soon ...
Publisher: Broadfeather Books
Rights: Copyright 2023 Nicole Conway. All rights reserved.

DRAGONRIDER BOOKS FROM NICOLE CONWAY

THE DRAGONRIDER CHRONICLES

Fledgling

Avian

Traitor

Immortal

THE DRAGONRIDER LEGACY

Savage

Harbinger

Legend

THE DRAGONRIDER HERITAGE

Hunter

Betrayer

Successor

Godling

Sojourner

Pathfinder

Paladin

Eternal

PALADIN

THE DRAGONRIDER HERITAGE

BOOK VII

NICOLE CONWAY

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this world of fiction.

Copyright © 2023 by Nicole Conway

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover art by Covered by Nicole

To Nathalie

Happy Birthday!

CONTENTS

PART ONE

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

PART TWO

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

PART THREE

12. Chapter Twelve

13. Chapter Thirteen

14. Chapter Fourteen

15. Chapter Fifteen

PART FOUR

16. Chapter Sixteen

17. Chapter Seventeen

18. Chapter Eighteen

PART FIVE

19. Chapter Nineteen

20. Chapter Twenty

21. Chapter Twenty-One

PART SIX

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

24. Chapter Twenty-Four

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

26. Chapter Twenty-Six

27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

PART SEVEN

28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

PART EIGHT

30. Chapter Thirty

31. Chapter Thirty-One

The Adventure Continues in

Also by Nicole Conway

More From Nicole Conway

Acknowledgments

About the Author

PART ONE

JAEVID

1

CHAPTER ONE

“WHERE, BY ALL THINGS DIVINE, IS MY DAUGHTER?!” The words burst out of me like a crack of thunder, echoing through the grand vestibule of the royal castle in Halfax.

Before me, two young dragonriders, a pair of recently graduated lieutenants, flinched and drew back a step. “S-Sir, we’ve been questioning all the servants and staff that were working the night of the ball, but it’s taking longer than expected,” one of them stammered. “We’ve set up a perimeter around the city, as well. No one will come or go without a thorough check. We just need more time to—”

“—to do what?” I interrupted with a snarl. “Continue to be useless? My child is missing! My only daughter! Someone took her from this castle and I will not rest until she is found! No one will! If I have to tear this kingdom down brick by brick, I will!”

A heavy, all-too-familiar hand fell on my shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “You need to take a breath, Jae. They’re doing everything they can. Jenna has mobilized forces through every street in this city and the villages beyond. We’ve got dragonriders searching the air and infantry in every surrounding village. Someone will have seen something,” Felix Farrow murmured. “Have a little faith.”

I flicked him a sideways scowl, but my thoughts tangled in a wild frenzy. Take a breath? How could he even suggest that?

“It’s been three days,” I shouted back. “They haven’t found a single piece of useful information! No one even saw her leave her room! Gods and Fates, what am I going to tell Beckah? How can I go back to her without even a shred of hope? The baby is due any day now, and I—”

“Need to remember who, exactly, we’re dealing with here. This isn’t some hapless waif of a girl who would be easily duped by a stranger,” Felix countered, his tone still calm. “Maylea has been trained by the finest warriors in this kingdom since she could walk. Not to mention she’s got twice the rebellious energy and daring spirit you and Beckah ever had. It’s very unlikely anyone could sneak up on her let alone kidnap her.”

I narrowed my eyes and shrugged his hand off my shoulder. “What are you suggesting?”

His mouth quirked into a half-grin. “Only the obvious, if you’d take a moment to collect yourself and think clearly. You need to consider that perhaps she wasn’t taken. Perhaps Maylea left on her own.”

My heart seized in my chest at those words, like I’d swallowed a fistful of jagged stones. Felix had known me—had been my best friend and brother in arms—since we were practically children ourselves. But what sort of fool did he take me for? Of course I had considered that! How could I not? Especially when …

Gods. I-I couldn’t bear this. I shut my eyes tightly as guilt twisted through me like someone was turning a knife in my chest. Maylea had been so upset with me that night. I’d left her in her room, stewing in frustration over not being allowed to attend the ball. It was a situation I understood all too well. She’d been like that all her life—frustrated at any boundary we tried to hold for her, even if it was something meant to keep her safe. Maylea had her mother’s strong spirit, and my knack for finding trouble wherever it might try to hide.

No one had to tell me how dangerous that combination was.

But to run away? No. I couldn’t fathom that. She had been angry with me before for situations much like this, but she had never taken things that far. Yes, she would pout. She might even lock her door or refuse dinner. I couldn’t imagine my daughter leaving us without a single word, though. There had to be something else, some other explanation.

Unless … it was something I had said to her that had driven her away.

I swallowed hard against the rising panic that made my chest constrict and shook my head. I had to compose myself. I couldn’t crumble, not when they were all standing there gawking at me.

“Go, then.” I growled at the pair of lieutenants, who still stared at me with matching expressions of pasty, wide-eyed anticipation like two goldfish watching someone eat a crust of bread.

They both saluted with a fist over their chests and swift bow before speeding away across the vestibule. Felix and I stood in heavy silence, watching them go. It took everything I had not to bolt out after them. I should be out there searching, too. But I couldn’t leave—not when Beckah and the boys were still upstairs. I … I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving them alone. What if something else happened? What if they disappeared, too?

I tried to think, to come up with something else we could do. A new idea. A strategy. But I could hardly concentrate past the way my body ached in all the places where my formal armor had gotten too snug over the years. I hadn’t bothered to stop and take any of it off, let alone change clothes or eat anything. I couldn’t recall that I had even sat down since Beckah and I returned to our suite to find our daughter gone without a trace. My head swam and I stumbled as my knees threatened to buckle. I barely managed to catch myself against Felix’s shoulder.

“Jae?” he grabbed me by the arm and steadied me, his light cognac eyes suddenly sharp and serious. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m fine,” I managed as I straightened. “I’m just tired. Hungry, too, I guess. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, actually.” I could hear that obnoxious, almost fatherly disapproval in his tone. Not that it was anything new. He’d always fussed after me like an overprotective older brother.

I’m sure that made for an interesting spectacle now, since he was in his seventies and I had only just brushed my mid-thirties. Well, physically, anyway. I had forty years of divinely spelled sleep to thank for that, and a great many other complicated inconsistencies in my life.

“I mean it. You can’t keep this up for another day. You need to rest,” Felix insisted with a scowl.

“I can’t stop. I have to do this, Felix.” I sighed shakily, closing my eyes and bowing my head. “If I quit now. I-I … I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t,” he added quickly. “We’re not done turning over stones, Jae. Not even close. You know the others love her, too. They won’t give up. So you keep your head on straight, yeah?”

I rubbed at my brow and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to relieve the splitting pain that throbbed in my head. It didn’t work. “I know, I know. I just can’t shake the feeling that something awful happened. For her to disappear right after our meeting with Arlan the Kinslayer, and knowing there might have been agents from this so-called Hands of Fate faction on the castle grounds? What if they got to her? What if they knew she was my daughter and took her as a hostage? Or worse? Would there even be any evidence to find if that were the case? Wouldn’t that explain why no one can find a single trace of her? Gods, if they—” My voice caught and I snapped my mouth shut, biting down hard against that rising swell of panic.

Felix put his hand on my shoulder and gave me another consoling shake. “I know it hurts, Jae. When Jenna left for the battlefront during the Tibran War, I was terrified I would never see her again. Back then, we fought a lot about her roles in the kingdom, and I was so afraid my last words to her would be ones I’d said in anger. I suspect that must be what you’re afraid of now, hm?”

My eyes welled and I clenched my teeth, fighting to keep my emotions contained as I stared back at him. How had he known? Was I that obvious? Or was he reading my mind somehow?

“Maylea knows how much you and Beckah love her,” he assured. “No matter what was or wasn’t said, she knows that.”

“I should have told her. I should have said something different. Maybe if I had, then she wouldn’t be …” The words died in my throat before I could even finish that thought. I couldn’t. Not when it hurt this much.

I had failed many times in my life, but knowing I had failed to be there when my only daughter needed me the most—Gods. It was more than I could bear.

I turned away, not saying anything else as I began retreating from the vestibule. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the long hall of massive oil portraits that led to the grand staircase that I heard Felix’s footfalls following. Well, I’d always known him to be more stubborn than an old cow. The years had changed both of us, but they hadn’t changed that part of him.

“You do realize the irony of this, don’t you?” Felix had that teasing, cunning edge to his tone as he fell in step right beside me.

I frowned and kept my focus straight ahead, not really in the mood for any of his taunting.

“Really? Not a word? Don’t tell me you don’t remember? Is your memory still spotty after that little divine nap?” he chuckled softly, his pace slowing and finally stopping in the hall.

I stopped, too.

Looking back, I found my now far older-looking best friend standing, gazing up at one of the portraits with a strange, almost sad smile. It deepened the lines on his brow, around the corners of his eyes, and at the corners of his mouth.

I glanced up, following his gaze to the embarrassingly massive painting of myself hanging on the wall. It depicted a much younger, and ridiculously over-muscled version of myself sitting astride my dragon, Mavrik. Just the sight of it made my face flush with embarrassment and I had to look away. Felix had commissioned that absurd thing after … well, after he thought I had given my life to end the divine curse that was ravaging our world. He claimed it was to memorialize my great sacrifice. I knew better, though. I knew him. That portrait was his colorful way of teasing me, even beyond the grave. Gods. There were no words to describe how much I hated that atrocity. Gaudy, tasteless, and mortifying might’ve been a good start, though. I’d sincerely hoped it might not survive the siege during the Tibran war. No such luck, though.

“If I’m not mistaken, Beckah was the same age as your daughter when we all snuck away from Duke Brinton’s estate the night of our very first officer’s ball,” he recalled. “It feels like an eternity ago. But I still remember it clearly. I already thought you were madder than a rabid ferret, but that night, I was sure you’d lost your mind entirely. And when you jumped off the top of that tower! Gods and Fates, I was already trying to imagine what I’d tell everyone. I didn’t understand it then. I didn’t know what forces were moving you, or where that path would take us. But I believed in you,” he said, finally aiming that familiar grin back at me. “I still do.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “This isn’t like that, Felix.”

“Isn’t it, though? Ancient powers stirring. Assassins in the shadows. And once again, there’s a far-too-young Broadfeather running amok,” he chuckled again and shook his head. “Give her some credit, Jae. She might not be a dragonrider yet, but Maylea could wind up being every bit the holy terror you were.”

“I know,” I murmured, unable to stop my voice from breaking under the weight of the despair. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

* * *

Standing before the door to the guest suite where Beckah and our other children were still staying, my hand halted before I could even grab the handle. My heart sat like a cold, battered stone in my chest, so heavy that every heartbeat came with a throb of pain. Fates help me, what was I going to say to her? How was I supposed to tell my wife that our child was still missing? It was my duty—my responsibility—to keep our family safe.

And I had failed.

Our sweet little girl was gone and I had no idea how to bring her back.

My shoulders dropped as I let out a heavy breath. Somehow, I had to pull myself together. The rest of my family—my wife and other children—were all depending on me to be their rock. I couldn’t crumble. I couldn’t falter. Not now.

Opening the door, I stepped into the near-dark of the main sitting room to find nothing but quiet.

For an instant, the stress and fear seemed to ease, as though the curtain of adrenaline had finally been pulled back. Behind it, I could finally feel how every part of me was sore and aching with exhaustion. Even my eyes felt like two overcooked boiled eggs, dry and irritated from going too long without sleep.

Then I heard them.

“DAH!” Both of my boys rushed me at once, bounding from one of the nearby bedrooms like two excited puppies. Calem hit me full force, wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me tightly. I staggered and nearly lost my balance. Gods, he was getting big. Pretty soon he’d be able to take me right to the floor with a tackle like that.

I put my hand on his head and ruffled his dark brown hair. He blinked up at me and grinned from one slightly pointed ear to the other, displaying his missing two front teeth.

Sile, on the other hand, hesitated a few feet away. Already dressed in his long nightshirt, my oldest son studied my face as though he were trying to read my mind or somehow sense my mood. He wasn’t quite eleven yet, but of my three children, he had always been the most cautious. Cautious, and far more attuned to everyone else’s emotions and intentions. He also happened to be the one that looked the most like me, with light blue eyes and black hair he wore in a short ponytail. Sometimes, looking at him felt like glimpsing a long-past version of myself, although he was far more certain of himself than I’d ever been at that age. He had a quiet confidence and assurance that, more often than not, led him down paths that got him into trouble.

I was beginning to suspect that was a family trait, though.

Like his elder sister, Sile had already begun to show great skill in combat. Murdoc, Kiran, and Reigh had spent hours teaching him whenever work called me away. But where Maylea had always had an aptitude with a bow, Sile had recently shown preference for a pair of sleek, elven-styled scimitars made of greevwood—a birthday gift from Araxie.

Fates, why did everyone keep giving my children weapons for presents? Couldn’t they just manage a simple toy?

“Dah?” Calem asked, tilting his head to one side curiously. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “I’m just tired. Has your mother already gone to bed?” I tried to smile, to show both my boys the tiniest hint of hopefulness. I didn’t want them to see it—the pain and fear that still twisted in my gut with every breath I took. I had to protect them from that. Calem was still too young to pick up on what was really happening. But I guess it wasn’t enough to fool Sile.

His eyes welled as he swallowed hard, holding my gaze for a few seconds with his hands clenched at his sides. Then he bowed his head and looked away.

“Yeah. Mum sang the old song to us, but I still can’t sleep. Are we going home soon, Dah?” Calem asked as he immediately grabbed onto one of my hands with both of his. “It’s no fun here. I miss my room. And Sile won’t even play with me.”

“Oh? Well, perhaps that’s because he knows you’re both supposed to be in bed,” I said as I gently shut the door behind me. One glance around the sitting room made that dull throbbing pain twist in my chest again. Beckah had left her stitching on the arm of a big velvet chair close to the fireside. She had embroidered a blanket for each of our children, and it looked like she was nearly finished with this one.

Just in time, too. It wouldn’t be long now.

The fire in the hearth had already smoldered down to cinders. She must have already gone to bed after tucking the boys in. Good. She needed all the rest she could manage.

“Come on, boys. Back to bed,” I urged. Taking them gently by the shoulder, I guided both my sons back into the bedroom they were sharing.

Two small, child-sized beds with tall canopies draped in blue velvet curtains stood on either side of the room, and a sea of toys littered the fine woven rug between them. Little wooden dragons with pull strings. Dolls in dragonrider armor cut from little pieces of tin. Wooden practice swords and shields. Old helmets.

I spotted a slingshot I was sure I had confiscated after I’d caught them launching grapes at the guards patrolling by our suite. Hmm. I wonder who would have dared to give it back to them after that lecture?

Hah. As if I didn’t know.

Curse it, Felix.

After wrestling Calem back into bed and coaxing him through the old elven lullaby my mother had once sung to me, it didn’t take even a minute for him to drift off to sleep. I tucked the quilts around him tightly and picked my way carefully across the sea of toys to Sile’s bedside.

He was already under his blankets, lying with his back to me, and he didn’t say a word. The sight made my heartbeat stammer for an instant. That was exactly how I’d found Maylea the last time I’d seen her.

No—I had to pull myself together. For his sake, I had to be steady. He needed reassurance. He needed me to be his fortress in the storm.

Even if I was terrified, as well.

“I know you’re worried about your sister,” I whispered as I sat down on the bed beside him. “You want to know something? I’m worried, too.”

He rolled over just enough that he could peer at me over his shoulder with one pale blue eye. “Why’d she run away, Dah? Why would she just leave us like that? Does she hate us or something?”

“Hate us? No, Sile. Maylea would never hate us.”

“Then why?” He rolled over all the way onto his back, his chin trembling as he bit at each word angrily.

“Son, I … I don’t know why she left,” I confessed. “But I will find her. She’s going to be okay.”

“You promise?”

I reached to take one of his small hands in mine. “Yes. I swear it. But in order to find her, I might have to leave this castle. I might have to fly away to help search. And I need your help with that, Sile. I need you to look after your brother. I need you to make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble for your mother. I need you to be a little more grownup than usual and do your best to take care of both of them until I come back. Can you do that for me?”

His chin stopped trembling and he stared back at me, those keen eyes searching me for what felt like an eternity. Reading my thoughts. Looking for any sign of deception. I guess he didn’t find any because he nodded sharply and squeezed my hand back hard. “I will.”

“Good. I’m proud of you, son.” I bent down and kissed his forehead. “Now, get some sleep. I’m going to take care of everything.”

Sile seemed to relax back into his bed, giving me a few drowsy blinks before he nodded again.

I’d almost made it all the way to the door when I heard him call out to me again in a faint, sleepy whisper. “Hey, Dah?”

I glanced back. “Yes?”

“Is it okay to pray to Paligno to protect her?”

Once again, my heart gave a lurching jolt in my chest. My breath caught, and adrenaline prickled over my body like a wave of heat. All my children knew the stories of the ancient gods—I’d made sure of that. They also knew I had been the last lapiloque. The last to walk with the God of Life.

But I had never encouraged any of them to actually pray to any of the gods. So where was this coming from?

“I-I suppose so, if you want to. Why?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Because … I think he talks to me sometimes … when I’m dreaming,” Sile slurred groggily as he burrowed down deeper into his blankets. “I hear a voice. He said … our family is special. He said we’re going to change the world.”

2

CHAPTER TWO

It … it couldn’t be true.

Paligno was … talking to my children? Why? Fates, what did this mean? Was everything that man, Arlan the Kinslayer, had said true? Was there really a war coming with the realm of the gods?

Was this why Maylea had left? Had Paligno told her to go?

Gods and Fates, what was happening to my family?!

“Jaevid?” Beckah called out as I staggered into our bedroom, barely managing to catch myself against the doorframe. My head whirled and my heart pounded so fast I could hardly breathe. The soft flickers of candlelight in the room seemed to spin around me in a blur.

“What’s wrong?” She sat upright in bed, her eyes wide and expression tense with worry.

I nearly tripped over my own feet on my way to the bedside, finally hitting the floor on my knees and gripping the mattress as I wheezed.

“Jae?!” Beckah’s soft, cool fingers brushed mine. “What’s happened? Please, just talk to me!”

I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to tell her. How to explain. How to confess that I was no closer to finding our daughter than I had been when we’d first returned to our room and discovered she was gone. Hours of relentless work, and I had nothing. No clues. No evidence that anyone had even seen her that night.

She grasped my chin, turning my face so that I was forced to meet her gaze. That look, with the warm light of the oil lamp on the nightstand shining in her dark green eyes, her dark hair falling to frame her face just right, and all those beautiful freckles on her cheeks and nose like tiny constellations—it was enough to make my whole body go slack. I took in a deep, ragged breath like I’d been holding it for days, swimming frantically for a surface that wasn’t there. A surface I might never reach.

At least, not until I looked in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Beckah. They’re searching everywhere. Every dragonrider in the area is scouring the countryside looking for her. We’re interrogating the staff. We’re doing everything we can but there’s no sign of her anywhere.” I bowed my head, too ashamed to hold her gaze any longer. “I lost her. I lost our little girl. And now …”

I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell her that Paligno might be the reason. Not until I was certain. Not that I thought she wouldn’t believe me—I knew she would. But if that were true, if Maylea had been called away by Paligno, then it really was hopeless. My daughter would be beyond anyone’s reach. How could I possibly contest the will of the deity who had given me everything I held dear?

“I’m so sorry,” I growled through my teeth. “I’ve failed you. But I won’t give up. I’ll keep trying. I just need to change clothes, and then I’ll get right back to—”

“Oh, my sweet Jae,” Beckah whispered as she combed her fingers through my hair. “Nothing is lost. I don’t believe that for a second. Just stop for a moment. It won’t all fall apart if you stop and look at me.” She leaned in, kissing my temple before she scooted over to the edge of the bed and coaxed me up onto it beside her. “I know you’re trying your hardest. But it’s like you believe I will see you as less of a person if you don’t always wind up being the victorious hero in every situation. Like failing would somehow make me love you less.”

All the tension in my body gradually began to ease as she spoke gently and brushed my hair behind my pointed ears. I couldn’t help but sink into that feeling—of being close to her—as though her presence were a warm blanket wrapping around my weary soul. My eyes fell closed and I leaned into her touch, finally managing a ragged exhale when I felt her fingers begin working at the buckles of my cloak.

“I could never love you less, Jaevid Broadfeather. And if you can’t fail in front of me, the woman who loves you most in the world, then what is love?” she whispered as she stacked each piece of my formal, ceremonial armor into a pile beside the bed. “Go and have a bath, and then you need to rest. I have no doubt that you’ll find our little girl. But I also know you’ll do a much better job of it when you have a clear head.”

I opened my mouth to protest. What? She wanted me to stop? To rest? I-I … I couldn’t. Maybe I could change clothes, wash my face, but there wasn’t time for anything else. Not if I was chasing the whispers of a god once again. I knew exactly what kind of fight I might be in for.

But, Fates, how could I explain any of that to Beckah? I didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was. She was in a fragile state, with only a short time left until our fourth—and quite possibly fifth—child was due to be born, and I had to do what I could to protect her. She wouldn’t have said any of this if she had known the gods were involved.

I had to carry this burden alone.

“Go ahead and lie down,” I murmured, trying my best to keep my tone steady and more relaxed than before. “I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. I had every intention of washing my face, changing into more comfortable clothes, and coming back to lie down with her until she fell asleep. Then I’d get back to work, chasing heels and doing whatever it took to bring my daughter home.

I’d barely gotten a foot out of the room when a knock at the suite’s main door sent a rush of cold fear through my body. Every muscle locked up solid. My thoughts whirled in a sudden frenzy, spinning out of control even as my pulse slowed to hard, painful thumps.

It was late—far too late for servant staff to be coming by for anything. I hadn’t ordered any meals to be brought up.

That … that could only mean one thing.

Oh, Gods!

* * *

I surged for the door, whipping it open suddenly.

Standing directly on the other side, Murdoc flinched back and immediately snapped his hand back to his shoulder, reaching for one of the cross-sheathed longswords belted across his back.

Then our eyes met. He muttered a curse under his breath and dropped his arm, sinking into his heels as he shook his head. “Well, then. Glad to see you’re awake.”

“I was never asleep,” I countered quickly. “What are you doing here? What’s happened? Has there been any word? Have they found her?”

Murdoc opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out, his gaze flickered to something behind me. His expression softened, brow drawing up slightly as his mouth mashed into an uncomfortable line. He nodded slowly and dropped his gaze down submissively.

I glanced back over my shoulder to find Beckah standing behind me, dressed in her nightgown and robe, with her long dark hair wound into a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. She flicked a sharp glance between us, her expression as steely as a cat on the hunt. “What’s happened?” she asked as she took a step closer and put a hand on my arm.

“I don’t know.” I looked back at Murdoc. “He was just about to explain.”

“Jae—er, I mean, Commander, Sir,” he blurted quickly. “I apologize for the intrusion, but you should know, we found a member of the castle staff that remembers seeing your daughter on the night of the ball.”

“What?” I took a step closer to him. “Who is it? What did they say?”

Murdoc raised a hand as though to urge me to stay calm. “Just a servant. But he was able to give us a good description of what happened. She … well, she apparently crashed into him while running through the servants’ passages outside the ballrooms. He tried chasing after her, and even alerted some of the castle guards. They assumed she was just causing mischief, nothing serious or malicious, especially since they saw her fleeing through the halls with a boy.”

Rage took my brain like a roiling summer storm. “With … a … WHAT?!” I could practically taste flames licking from my lips as I roared. “Who was he? What did he look like? Where did they go? Fates curse it, didn’t that servant know anything useful?”

Murdoc gave a defeated sigh. “Unfortunately, even the castle guards weren’t able to catch them. Not that I’m surprised, honestly. We trained her well. But I have a strong lead about where we can find the boy.”

I took another aggressive step closer, my hands in shaking fists at my sides. “Tell. Me. Now.”

“I spoke to the guards personally. They described the boy as a teenager with black hair, dressed in strange clothing, with greenish-colored skin. One of them swore he saw that the boy had a tail like a lion’s, but the other disagreed and called it ridiculous. Seems they’ve argued about it ever since that night, and they were both were too embarrassed to come forward with this information earlier,” Murdoc explained with a knowing smirk. “I don’t know about you, but I can only think of one person in all of Maldobar who might fit that description.”

I bit down hard against the urge to yell. Curse it all straight to the abyss! Of course I knew who that was. But what did he have to do with any of this? Why was he even in the castle at all that night? And why, by all things divine, was he running around with my daughter?

“It seems there’s someone else we need to interview if we want to get to the bottom of this,” Murdoc said cryptically, lowering his voice almost as though he didn’t want Beckah to overhear. “I have it from a very reliable source that he’s still in Southwatch. We can catch him there before he changes locations, but we would have to leave right now.”

“You’re talking about Arlan the Kinslayer,” Beckah spoke up, fixing him a resolved stare.

Murdoc dipped his head, wincing slightly. “I am.”

“I know all about your dealings with him,” she said matter-of-factly. Then she glanced up at me.

My stomach clenched hard with a sudden jolt of adrenaline when I saw it—that quiet fire smoldering in her dark evergreen eyes. It was a look that would have moved mountains like building blocks if she wanted. A look I’d never been able to resist.

“So?” She arched an eyebrow expectantly. “What are you waiting for? Go, talk to him, and get our daughter back.”

Murdoc made a strange, choking, barking sound that might have been a laugh in disguise. I couldn’t pry my eyes away from my wife long enough to be sure—not when I was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. Was she serious? Leave? I couldn’t leave! Not when she was—

“Murdoc, darling, why don’t you go and wait in the garden? He’ll be down in just a moment, I promise,” Beckah assured, still holding me captive with that focused, silently challenging stare. Gods, it was like looking an angry dragoness in the eye and praying she didn’t breathe fire and melt my head clean off.

“Uh, right. Of course. I’ll just … go wait.” Murdoc cleared his throat and took a step back, rubbing at his mouth like he was still fighting back a smile. I watched him go, barely catching it as he gestured a fast “good luck” to me using dragonrider hand-signals.

Great. Well, I suppose I’d probably need it.

Stepping back into our room, I shut the door and scrambled to gather my thoughts. I couldn’t go into this discussion half-hearted. Not when she was already throwing those sorts of looks at me. Get it together, man. You fought the primal forces of nature and stood in the presence of angry gods. I could handle reasoning with my wife.

“You should change your clothes and armor to something more suitable,” she instructed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “In fact, you should go ahead and pack a travel bag in case Arlan sends you off immediately.”

“Wh-What?” I began to protest, “But, Beckah, I—I can’t leave you, not when you’re nearly—”

“Silly man, I’m pregnant, not dying,” she scolded gently and patted my cheek. “This isn’t my first go-round, or even my second, and I’ve got all the help I can tolerate here. I’ll be fine. Go and find our little girl. Do whatever you believe is necessary to bring her back safe.” She stood on her toes and stole a quick kiss. “I trust you, Jae—today, tomorrow, and always.”

“But, gods, what if something happens? What if you need me and I—”

Her expression softened, becoming calm but serious as she reached to tuck some of my bangs behind one of my pointed ears. “Jaevid, my love. I know you’re upset. I know you’re worried. But please hear me. I knew from the very first moment I met you that you were someone destiny had immense plans for—the sort of man who would walk with greatness far beyond my understanding. When I say that I trust you, I mean that I trust that you will do everything in your power to fight for what is right and good in this world, and that when it’s all over, you’ll come back to us. All right?”

A shaky, uncertain breath left my lips as I slowly nodded. “I just worry. I don’t want you to regret choosing a dragonrider because I’m never here when you need me the most.”

A smile like a spring sunrise over a frost-kissed meadow lit her face as she gave the tip of my ear a playful tug. “I didn’t choose a dragonrider, silly man,” she laughed softly. “I chose my heart’s other half. And I’ll keep choosing you every day until we take our last breath together.”

I couldn’t fight back a smile as I leaned down, gently grasping the back of her head to kiss her. “I’ll send word as soon as I’ve found her,” I promised when I pulled back at last.

She nodded approvingly, watching in silence as I gathered my belongings together as quickly as possible. I changed into my battle-ready armor, donned my travel boots, and checked the contents of my go-bag before I buckled my scimitar to my belt.

“You know, I was thinking it’s not so different, is it? From the night you and I first met,” Beckah said with a wistful smile as she came over with my long blue dragonrider cloak.

“What?” I asked as she worked at buckling it to my shoulder pauldrons one at a time.

“Maylea and running off with this young man. They left in the middle of a ball, called away by some unknown mission,” she explained, her smile widening some as she stood back to admire me. “I remember following a dashing boy off into the wide, dangerous world in a very similar way.”

My mouth scrunched. “I seem to remember nearly getting ourselves killed several times over, as well.”

Beckah tilted her head to the side a little, flashing me another one of those coy, teasing smiles that still made my heartbeat skip. “You’re just jealous because I rode a king drake first. Go on. Admit it.”

I balked and choked. “That has nothing at all to do with—!”

Before I could finish, she laughed and winked playfully. Then Beckah moved in close again and put her hands on my cheeks, standing on her toes to press her lips to my forehead. “Try to keep those memories in mind, my love. Remember how it felt to have that hand of destiny moving you. If that’s what has called our daughter away, you know as well as I do that nothing we do can change it. We can’t fight it. And we should do whatever we can to help her.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into the warmth of her soft lips against my face, treasuring every second of it. “I will.”

3

CHAPTER THREE

“You look significantly less furious,” Murdoc observed as I walked out into the garden and began making my way toward the Deck where all the dragons staying here at the royal castle were housed.

“Rest assured, I still am,” I growled under my breath.

“Saving it all back for Kinslayer?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes ahead and nodded once, not trusting myself to even talk about it. Just the thought made that heat rise in my throat again. Anything I said might send me erupting into another fit of rage, and I didn’t have the time or energy to spare now.

Oh yes, I had more than a few questions for the infamous crime lord. Somehow, I had a difficult time believing he hadn’t known about my daughter running off with that boy of his. Nothing seemed to escape that man’s notice, after all.

We had quite the fatherly discussion ahead of us.

Murdoc and I split up in the Deck, making our separate ways to where our dragons were housed in their respective stalls. Because of his sheer size, my dragon was in one of the largest available stalls on the top level of the round, honeycomb-like structure. I wasn’t up for making that hike twice tonight, so I stopped in the tack room on the first level to fetch his saddle before I started up the long, circling ramp that led to the top floor.

My king drake, Mavrik, lifted his massive horned head as soon as I rolled the door open. He yawned so widely I got a great view of all his jagged teeth. Some of them were as long as my hand. His vivid yellow eyes caught in the moonlight and followed me, nostrils puffing as though trying to detect my mood. His body shifted in the nest of hay like a mountain of deep blue and black scales as he made a few low popping, chirping sounds.

“Up for a flight to Southwatch?” I asked as I set the saddle down beside him and straightened with a groan. Gods, my back was killing me already. I’d definitely feel this tomorrow.

“Is that where he is?” a sharp, feminine voice demanded suddenly.

I flinched and whirled around to find the silhouette of a slender young woman leaning against the doorway. Even with the soft torchlight outside the stall casting her form in sharp relief, I recognized the outline of her pointed ears, long muscular legs, and tall crystal-tipped staff.

I couldn’t make out Isandri’s face through the gloom, but I didn’t need to. That venomous edge to her tone and the way she had one of her hips cocked to the side was more than enough. She hadn’t come here for pleasantries.

“I take it you mean Reigh.” I sighed and went back to getting my saddle prepped. “He was there, yes. But by now I’m sure he’s left for Nar’Haleen.”

Her bare feet crunched on the hay-scattered floor as she approached. “He sent me a very ridiculous letter,” she muttered. “It said he intends to go to the Southern Kingdoms, and that he did not wish to trouble me by asking me to come with him.”

“Sounds about right,” I said.

She stopped right before me, leaning her weight into her staff as she watched me work. “I can only assume this is at the request of Arlan the Kinslayer.”

“And you’d be correct,” I replied. “But I’m afraid he’s already left. By now, they’ve already set sail.”

“That fool,” she whispered. Isa clicked her tongue in annoyance and muttered something under her breath in her native language. Probably profanity, judging by her bitter tone.

“For the record, it was suggested several times that he should take you, or at the very least, talk to you about it first. Reigh refused. He said he didn’t want to trouble you because of your past history with that place,” I said as I stood, hefting my saddle up onto Mavrik’s back with a grunt. “Thatcher went, as well, so he isn’t entirely alone. But I am concerned about what sort of conflict they might be stumbling into. As usual, Arlan hasn’t been terribly forthcoming with information. It feels as though we are pawns being shuffled across the board in a grand game all of his making. I don’t like it.”

“Nor do I,” Isa agreed and stepped around to help me fasten the buckles on the other side. I guess she had seen us do this enough times, she knew what came next—the result of spending so many years hanging around a bunch of unruly young dragonriders. “That is why I am going with you to meet with him—Kinslayer, that is. And if necessary, I will find my own way to the Southern Kingdoms.”

I arched a brow at her, unable to hide my surprise. How had she known that was the reason we were leaving? Fates, that girl never ceased to amaze me.

“You’d really go all the way back to your homeland for Reigh?” I asked.

She fixed me with an intense stare, resolve as firm as the foundations of the earth flickering in her eerie yellow-green eyes. “Farther, if I must,” she said.

Fair enough.

I smiled and stretched out a hand toward her. “Then hand me my helmet, would you? We’ve got a long flight ahead.”

* * *

The hours dragged with our faces turned against the wind and rain as Murdoc, Isandri, and I made our way southward. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed in the towering dark clouds around us as we wove around them, trying to avoid the worst of the massive storm front that had settled over the southern tip of the kingdom.

Isa flew on her own for a long while, assuming her alternative form as a sleek, winged feline and drafting off my right wing. But she couldn’t match the speed of my king drake for long, especially against the fierce winds. Changing back into her human shape, Isandri slipped into the saddle right behind me with one arm wrapped around my waist and her face pressed against my back.

Then, at last, I saw it—scattered spots of light along the ground far in the distance, barely visible through the clouds and rain. A tangled, prickling mixture of relief and anxiety coiled in my chest like a writhing serpent. We were here. One step closer. But, gods, what was in store for us now? Was Arlan still here? How would we find him? And what about Maylea? Was there any chance at all that she was here, as well?

I had no way of knowing, and the best information I had to go on was Arlan’s mention of a tavern called the Speckled Sow. I could only hope that Murdoc knew how to contact Kinslayer’s network from there. He had much more experience in that particular line of work, after all. Fortunately, he had also been to the tavern recently. Perhaps that would be enough to give us a decent chance at finding the man before he changed locations again, and with any luck, it would bring me one step closer to finding my child.

Mavrik and Blite began our descent, dropping below the clouds and circling the city with a thundering roar. I led several passes around Southwatch tower, letting the guards patrolling the top know that we intended to land. Then I gave Murdoc the signal to prepare to touch down atop the massive dark metal and stone structure.

Mavrik spread his wings wide, cupping them to catch the strong winds, and stretched out his hind legs to catch the metal grated floor of one of the large platforms at the very top of the tower. He landed like an eagle catching a perch, coiling his tail for balance and puffing heavy snorts at the soldiers who came out to meet us. His massive talons gripped the surface easily and he hunkered low so we could begin to dismount, shaking his head and smacking his jaws.

I lowered Isandri down first, delivering her into the care of one of the three dragonriders manning the landing platform. Then I turned to unbuckle my bag and fling it down to them, as well. As soon as my boots hit the metal grate of the platform, a rush of memories hit me as fiercely as the gusting storm. Memories of Northwatch—my very first duty station after graduating as a young dragonrider. I’d come here to meet Jace when the war between Maldobar and Luntharda still raged. We had flown in the battle at Barrowton, and that was when I’d taken my first steps over that perilous jungle boundary line. Those thoughts chilled me to the marrow even as I turned around to give Mavrik’s side a pat.

“Apologies, Commander! We didn’t know we would be receiving you tonight. But we can have stalls prepared for your dragons immediately,” a young lieutenant called over the roar of the wind.

“Please do, but we likely won’t be staying long.” I nodded ahead as we followed behind the other dragonriders, who worked at guiding my dragon in through a massive, rounded doorway that led into the tower. Scarcely a minute later, I heard the screeching call and low boom of Murdoc’s younger drake, Blite, landing right after us.

“Should I inform Colonel Haprick that you’re here?” the lieutenant asked. “We can have rooms prepared for you, as well.”

I pulled my helmet off and shook my rain-soaked hair free around my shoulders before waving him off. “No, no. That won’t be necessary. Send my regards to Colonel Haprick, but we have urgent business in the city. See that our dragons are fed and our gear is dried. Don’t unsaddle them, though.”

The lieutenant saluted and rushed off, leaving me in my soggy, dripping cloak and armor while I waited for Murdoc to dismount and join up. Isandri prowled over and stood beside right me, her arms crossed and brow tense with a look of impatient unease. Her gaze darted around at all the riders and soldiers in battle armor passing us, seeming to shrink closer and closer to my side while her grip on her staff tightened.

Hmm.

“Everything all right?” I finally dared to ask. “You’ve been in watch towers before, haven’t you?”

She straightened some and flicked me a flustered sideways glance. “I … yes. But before, they were usually filled with enemies who wanted to kill me, rather than Maldobarian soldiers.”

Ahhh. Well, that made sense. According to Reigh, she had spent some time imprisoned in a tower much like this when it was occupied by the Tibran Empire. Since all dragonrider watches tended to look the same, being here probably brought back sour memories for her, as well.

“We won’t linger here for long,” I assured her.

She gave a small nod but didn’t answer, her sharp eyes still panning quickly around at every dragonrider or infantryman that passed. Her scowl softened somewhat when she saw Murdoc approaching, though. He wiped the rain from his eyes and shook his head, grumbling something about how he hated flying through soggy slop as he fell in step on my other side.

I had to agree.

We made our way down through the tower and out into the city, keeping our heads down or hoods pulled up to hopefully give us some small amount of ambiguity. I wasn’t all that concerned with keeping a low profile, however. With Southwatch tower so close by, it wasn’t uncommon to see dragonriders walking these streets during their downtime. But our faces—particularly mine—tended to be ones that people remembered.

Isandri was a spectacle all her own, though, even if folk from Nar’Haleen were sometimes spotted amidst the sailors and merchants. Her flowing, silken garb and swirling facial tattoos that marked her as a shalnii priestess, however, were truly a rare sight and one that would certainly turn a few heads. There wasn’t much we could do about that, though.

Better to be cautious and keep our heads down.

Murdoc took the lead, navigating the rain-drenched streets and back alleys until he brought us to the long, broader avenue that ran along the edge of the docks. Through the gloom and gusting storm, I caught glimpses of the massive dark shapes of the ships rocking and swaying at their moorings just beyond the rickety boardwalk. But in weather like this, there wasn’t a single soul in sight to take notice of us making our way to the front steps of a shabby little tavern on the far end of the dock. I glanced up at the sign hanging from the front eaves of the slumped roof—a wooden cutout of a pig’s head that creaked as it swung back and forth in the wind. This must be the place.

Somehow, the sight of the windows glowing warm and bright against the chilly gale brought back another faint flash of memory to my road-weary brain. A night, many years ago, when I’d darkened the door of a tavern much like this alongside my dragonrider brothers for the very first time. Fates, that had been so many years ago, and the atmosphere in our company had been much lighter. Happier. Eager to take the next step in a journey and test our strength and courage against any enemy.

A far cry from how I felt tonight.

I bowed my head and tugged my hood down farther to hide my face as we gathered right outside the door. Murdoc turned back just long enough to murmur, “Both of you wait here. I’ll see what I can turn up.”

Isa and I nodded and huddled off to the side, keeping our backs to the window and staring out across the port while we waited. Minutes passed with nothing to fill the awkward silence but the rushing of the wind and patter of rain off the boardwalk.

“I cannot believe Reigh thought he could do this without me,” Isandri muttered suddenly, almost like she was talking to herself and hadn’t meant for me to hear. “That imbecile. Did he really assume he could just send me a letter and be done with it? After all this time, have I not earned more trust?”

“While I certainly can’t speak for him, I do know Reigh rather well. I don’t think he ever intended this to be a slight against you, Isandri,” I said. “If anything, I think he meant it as a mercy—considering your past. I’m also sure I don’t have to tell you that he is … a deeply conflicted and complicated man. He has an awful habit of seeing himself as the one to blame in every situation. If anything, him sending you that letter is my fault. I never should have let him go on this venture in my place.” I shook my head and shifted where I stood, unable to ignore the flare of dull, throbbing pain that ached in my back.

She turned just enough that one of her vibrant yellow-green eyes peeked out from under her own hood and stared up at me. “Regardless of who is to blame, none of you should have ever considered going to Nar’Haleen or any of the Southern Kingdoms without my help. It is nothing like Maldobar or Luntharda.”

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to rest on the pommel of my scimitar, my fingertips tracing over the relief of a stag’s head engraved into it. “I do believe you’re right about that, but I let Reigh make that choice. Or rather, he insisted on it. You know how he can be once he’s made up his mind. Stubborn beyond all reason, just like his father.”

“Even to the point of making a very stupid mistake,” she agreed with a growl. Her full lips scrunched to one side as she seemed to consider me for a few seconds. “I am … sorry to hear of your daughter’s disappearance,” she added suddenly. “Murdoc briefly explained the situation. Try not to worry; Maylea is quite clever and resourceful. I’m certain she will be found.”

My heart gave another agonizing, wrenching twist in my chest. All I could do was nod slightly.

We both flinched as the door opened again and Murdoc marched out … with a much shorter figure in a hooded traveling cloak following right behind him.

My heart gave a sudden, frantic jolt and seemed to hit the back of my throat so hard I couldn’t speak. I lurched forward, unable to hold back a gasp. Gods and Fates, could it be? Had he found my little girl in there?!

Then the figure turned and looked up at me from under that hood.

It … it wasn’t Maylea.

My shoulders dropped, every breath of hope seeming to leave my body at once as I met Garnett’s wide-eyed, startled gaze. The little dwarven woman blinked up at us, seeming at a loss for an instant. Then a forced, uncertain smile spread over her lips. “Sweet stones! You really are here.” She laughed weakly and waved, but that smile still hadn’t reached her soft lavender-colored eyes. “And Isa, too. You lot certainly have a way of making a timely appearance. Come along, then. We can’t dally around.”

I arched a brow up at Murdoc, looking for an explanation. Timely for what, exactly?

I guess he could read the bewilderment in my expression because he tipped his chin down some and gave a subtle shake of his head. Ah. So this wasn’t something we could talk about here.

“Lead the way,” Murdoc offered, gesturing for Garnett to go ahead of us.

Her smile immediately vanished, falling to something like anxiety and anguish as she stepped quickly out into the pouring rain. Isa immediately followed, but I hung back a few paces—waiting for Murdoc to look my way again. When our gazes locked, I gave him a few quick, subtle gestures in the dragonrider hand-code.

“What’s going on? Where is she taking us?”

His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed, cutting an intensely focused glare to where Garnett was forging the path ahead, guiding us off into the stormy night. Before he stepped off the tavern’s front porch to follow, however, I saw his hands blur through a series of answering gestures.

“Arlan has recalled all his key agents to a safe house here. They’re preparing for something big. We have to hurry.”

4

CHAPTER FOUR

We moved like shadows through the pouring rain, following Garnett’s hasty steps down crooked side streets and twisting alleys to the far north of the city’s outskirts. The narrow winding roads broadened, giving way little by little to the more rural country beyond. There, sparse little farms were spread amidst the briny bogs and soggy, rolling flatlands—just a few small homes built upon the highest of the hills where they might not flood. Most of them were easy enough to spot even at a distance, with their windows glowing warmly like faint, floating stars wavering amidst the gale. But the one Garnett brought us to stood much farther back than all the others, miles from the nearest neighbor, and closer to a line of thin pine trees that marched off into the distant, steeper hillsides.

At first glance, I might have thought the place was abandoned. The steep, thatched roof of the two-level, stacked stone cottage was completely covered in moss and the gardens had long been left to run wild. Half of the structure was hidden beneath dense, leafy climbing vines that twisted and snaked all the way to the top of the chimneystack, and the small barn behind it had already collapsed in on one side.

I frowned. Was this really where Arlan the Kinslayer had chosen to hide? Somehow, I expected something … well, something more. He’d always been more daring in his facades—often choosing to hide in plain sight. Granted, I could only assume he had small hideaways tucked in every corner of the kingdom. Perhaps this one was meant to be more discreet?

Or had those others become compromised thanks to this agency he called the Hands of Fate?

My thoughts raced at that idea, and I almost missed it—the faint wisp of smoke curled up from the chimney’s opening. It was barely visible, thanks to the rain. But it was enough to give away that someone was inside. As we drew closer, I spotted a faint, golden light shining from a window on the second floor, as well. The rest of the house’s narrow windows seemed to be covered with drapes, and I could have sworn I saw the ones on the first-floor rustle as we approached.

We were being watched already.

Hmm.

Garnett didn’t hesitate for a moment. She went straight to the front door and knocked, motioning for the rest of us to stand back and keep our distance. Hunched together against the wind and rain, Murdoc, Isandri, and I looked on as the door cracked open only an inch or two. I couldn’t see who answered it, but Garnett exchanged a few hushed words with the figure on the other side. After a few seconds, the door finally opened, and she waved for us to follow her into the cottage.

I couldn’t resist a deep, weary sigh as I finally stepped out of the rain at last. Swallowed by the dim, cluttered interior of the cottage, I brushed back my hood and tried to shake some of the water from my hair. The smell of musty, stagnant air, dust, old fabric, and something faintly herbal like incense was thick in the near-dark of the cramped entryway. It was a cozy, comfortable smell that called back memories of days spent at Lin’s home near Dayrise.

As soon as the door was shut behind us, the faint clicking of a lock followed, and a tall elven man seemed to emerge straight from the shadows to loom before us with a distrustful scowl. His hunter’s leathers and sleeveless jerkin revealed sun-bronzed skin covered in faint, darker brown tattoos, and his long black hair was woven into plaited braids down his back. I caught the glimmer of the faint firelight burning in the sitting room nearby off his multihued eyes. He had a bit of Gray elf blood in him, then? Well, we had that in common, at least.

But I had a feeling our similarities most likely ended there.

Without a word, he motioned for us to walk ahead of him into that sitting room, and followed a few paces behind like a lurking specter. His bare feet made no sound on the old wooden floorboards, and his gaze seemed to focus more intently on Isandri than the rest of us. Maybe the sight of her crystal-and-blade-tipped staff was unnerving to him?

Or maybe he knew better than to assume anything she did with that staff would be worse than what she could do with her fangs and claws.

Reclining in a moth-eaten old chair pulled close to the large stone hearth, another human-looking man sat with his legs crossed and a long wooden pipe between his teeth. He glanced at us as we ambled inside, nodding to Garnett before fixing a hard, suspicious glare on me. He sat forward some, his long face framed in a shoulder-length mop of loose brown curls and his thin nose wrinkling as though he’d smelled something foul.

“So much for keeping a low profile,” he growled around that pipe still held in his teeth. “It’s one thing to be draggin’ in soldiers, but him? You’ll have every eye in a hundred miles trained right on us.”

I frowned and crossed my arms. I could only guess that by “him,” he meant me. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Aye. We haven’t,” the man scoffed. “But I know exactly who you are, Broadfeather.”

“Oh now, be easy, Roxus. Nobody thinks twice about dragonriders milling about around here,” Garnett assured him, although her smile was still as strained and forced as ever. There was the smallest hint of pressure in the way she stared the man down for an instant, as though silently daring him to argue with her or make a scene. “Even the esteemed Academy Commander isn’t a sight to blink twice at. And we were careful. Made our way nice and quiet. No one paid any mind.”

“You hope,” the man—Roxus, apparently—grumbled and sank back down into his chair. He took a long puff from his pipe and blew a few perfect smoke rings into the air.

“Any word from upstairs?” Garnett seemed eager to change the subject.

Roxus made a grunting sound that must have meant no, because Garnett’s smile finally drained away and her entire demeanor seemed to wilt and wither like a blossom at first frost.

“I see,” she murmured quietly. “Has anyone gone up to check, then?”

“I checked on him several hours ago,” the tall elven man murmured, his voice soft and tinged with a strange accent I couldn’t place. His gaze darted toward the stairwell in the far corner of the small sitting room, his brow creasing with concern. “He was preparing another ritual and sent me away so he could work.”

Murdoc and I exchanged a wary glance. Another ritual? What did that mean?

I had never personally witnessed Arlan casting any sort of magic, but I’d received plenty of accounts of his impressive magical feats from my companions. According to Reigh, Arlan was the sort of sorcerer you only read about in ancient legends and myths. A master of power unlike anything we’d ever seen before.

So, what was he up to now?

“Gods, Howlan, you know better!” Garnett fussed as she muscled her way past him and started up the stairs in a huff. “He’s already pushed himself too far. He’ll kill himself at this rate, you dolt!”

I started to follow after her, but Howlan immediately planted himself in my path with a forbidding scowl. “No visitors,” he warned.

“I’m not here for well-wishing. His boy, Lukani, has my daughter. They’ve run off somewhere in this gods-forsaken kingdom. I will see Arlan, and you’d do well not to get in my way.” I glared back, one corner of my mouth tugging at a snarl.

Howlan’s hands clenched into fists, and he changed footing to cock a shoulder back slightly. Preparing to draw that bow off his back?

Good luck with that.

I didn’t even have to look to know Murdoc and Isandri were right at my back, probably already steeled for a fight.

I liked those odds.

“Let them through,” Roxus muttered suddenly without ever looking away from the flames that crackled and popped in the hearth. “I doubt very much the infamous savior of Maldobar has come here to murder the boss.”

Well, that all depended on how much he had to do with my daughter’s disappearance, really. But I managed to keep that thought to myself.

Howlan gave a snort like an angry young dragon and took a single, slow, calculated step to the side—out of my path. I held his gaze without blinking, waiting for him to look away first before I finally let my own posture relax.

Among these shifty, shadow-dwelling folk, I knew better than to be the one to turn my back first. Maybe they weren’t my enemy today, but that was never a guarantee. With Arlan the Kinslayer, you could never be too careful.

* * *

“You bloody idiot! You’ve gone and done it now, haven’t you?” Murdoc, Isandri and I followed the sound of Garnett’s angry growling and sputtering along the narrow, second-floor hallway. “You were supposed to rest!”

At the far end of the hall, I leaned through the doorway of a small room crowded with strange artifacts and objects to find her trying to drag Arlan upright. He lay on the floor amidst a scattered array of tiny candles, strange lines drawn in chalk and speckled with melted wax drippings, and what looked like shattered pieces of glass. A massive, floor-length mirror in a heavy silver frame dominated the far wall directly before him, now mostly covered by a long, black satin drape. The sight of it made my stomach drop and a strange chill prickle up my spine all the way to the back of my neck.

Something about that mirror made every tiny hair on my body stand on end. It put a knot of cold dread in the pit of my stomach and that sense as though I were falling from a height. A feeling I knew all too well…

Because looking at the God Stone had given me that same feeling. Powerless. Small. Like staring into the yawning depths of an eternity I’d never be able to comprehend.

My pulse skipped and I quickly looked away. Was this the mirror Arlan had sent Reigh and the others to find in Northwatch tower? The one they called the Mirror of Truth? What was it doing here? And what, by all the Fates, was he using it for?

Arlan couldn’t answer that—not right now, anyway.

Slumped and ashen, he lay with his breathing shallow and fast and his skin drenched in sweat. His head lolled back, nose smeared with blood, and his eyelids fluttering as though he were dreaming. He didn’t say a word as Garnett shouted over him, patting his cheeks and trying to wake him.

It didn’t work. He groaned something through clenched teeth, but didn’t move. Great. I wouldn’t get any useful information out of him about where Maylea and Lukani might have gone in this state.

“Go and keep watch at the stairs, just in case,” I whispered to Murdoc.

He nodded and strode off to take up a post right at the top of the stairwell, his arms crossed and his expression grim and forbidding.

Good. Now wasn’t the time to get clumsy and take any chances. Maybe Arlan trusted the men posted downstairs, but I wasn’t turning a blind eye to anyone I wasn’t completely certain I could count on.

Brushing aside strings of large, crudely cut crystals that hung from the ceiling, I picked my way across the cluttered floor to help Garnett prop Arlan upright. Pulling one of his arms over my shoulder, I dragged him to his feet and hauled him toward the door. With his weight against me, I looked back at Garnett expectantly. “Where do I put him?”

“A-Ah, thank you. This way. He’s got a bedroom—where he should have been in the first place,” she stammered and scurried past Murdoc, who still watched from the doorway with his narrowed eyes scanning the strangely decorated room.

He leveled a suspicious, disapproving frown on the nearly-unconscious man I carried as we passed. “I’m no expert, but that looks a lot like a dark ritual.”

“I know,” I murmured back, not wanting Garnett to overhear as she hurried ahead to open another door farther down the hall.

“N-Not … dark,” Arlan suddenly slurred from where he sagged against my side, dragging his feet with every step we took. For an instant, his glowing golden-hued eyes opened to stare at me, as though trying to figure out who I was. Then he groaned, clenching his teeth, as his face seized with a look of pain. “Y-You lowlanders … know n-nothing of … magic. You assume e-everything unknown t-to you is … dark and e-evil.”

Stepping into another dimly lit room, I helped him all the way to the edge of a large, canopied bed. Garnett rushed around, lighting oil lamps and stoking the smoldering coals in a small hearth. More books were heaped on nearly every flat surface—hundreds of them were loaded on the nightstands, stacked on the writing desk by the window, and piled on the floor. Garnett even had to shove a few of them out of the way just so Arlan could lie down on the bed.

“I-I see … the storm w-wasn’t enough to deter you. At the v-very least … I hope you remembered to w-wipe your b-boots at the door,” Arlan managed to slur through chattering teeth. Sitting upright in his bed, he shivered as he shrugged out of his sweaty silken robe and let it fall to the floor, leaving him in nothing but a pair of dark, linen breeches. “A-A clean shirt, if y-you don’t mind, G-Garnett.”

“You need more than a clean tunic, Arlan,” Garnett fussed as she began rummaging through an armoire. “A proper bath and something to eat would be a good start.”

He chuckled weakly, but didn’t reply.

“Would you at least take some tea, then?” she bargained. “Stones, you’re as pale as a day-old corpse, man.”

He gave a small sigh of defeat and nodded.

Isandri and I kept our distance, looking on without a word while Garnett helped him into a new shirt. With his back turned, I caught a glimpse of something like a discoloration on his skin. No—not a discoloration. Two long, jagged scars that ran along both of his shoulder blades. Each one was gnarled and raised, with angry pink tissue knotted as though they were fresh. The areas around them had small marks from stitching, and a strange purplish webbing like veins that stood out against his pale skin.

I’d seen battle wounds before. I had plenty of them, myself. But this was unlike any injury I had seen before. Something about it seemed more intentional than a mere sword-swipe. Almost surgical.

I must have been staring more obviously than I realized, because Arlan made a coughing, flustered sound when he glanced back at us. He quickly pulled a clean white tunic over his head to cover the scars on his back. “I-I assume you did n-not come here to g-gawk, Commander Broadfeather,” he mumbled.

No. I most certainly had not. But the sight of those marks unleashed a new storm of questions in my mind. After all, the way they were positioned on his shoulder blades, not to mention the size, almost made it seem like they might have been—

“Wings,” Arlan answered before I’d even mustered the words to ask. His tone was tight and cold as he kept his gaze pointed away, his jawline stiffening as his mouth pinched together as though the word left a bitter taste.

“You had wings?” Isandri asked, seeming confused. I guess she had noticed the scars, too. Granted, they were difficult to miss.

“All Avoran elves have wings, Lady Isandri. We are born with them,” Arlan corrected sharply.

“But yours have been cut off,” I observed.

“It was a necessity,” he clarified, his expression seeming to glaze over into faraway thought, as his tone became steadier. “My homeland is unlike anything you lowlanders can comprehend. Any Avoran elf who leaves it suffers from the severance of the connection we have with the bountiful raw magical power that fills it. It’s as though we leave the front steps of heaven itself, and are cut off from the flow of power that ebbs through the doors of that divine realm. That connection cannot be reforged. Once broken, it is broken forever. And without it, our abilities and powers are drastically stunted. The features that mark us as something nearly divine begin to fade. Our wings rot, and must be cut away before they become a source of infection that would otherwise become deadly. But those wounds never fully heal, even hundreds of years later.”

“How long ago was it?” I dared to ask. “How long has it been since you left Avora?”

Arlan’s eyes closed and he turned his face away. “Come now, Commander. We both know you did not come all this way on a dark and stormy night just to question me about the past.”

I stiffened. Well, he was absolutely right about that. Better to get to the point as quickly as possible. “You know why I’m here, then?”

He sighed again, as though he’d been dreading this conversation from the start. “Naturally.”

My pulse kicked harder against my chest as I demanded, “What has happened to my daughter? You know where she is, don’t you?”

He gave a solemn nod. “More or less, although I doubt very much my answer will be as precise as you want.”

I took an aggressive step closer. “Tell me. And by all the gods, she had better be whole and unharmed.”

He flicked me an annoyed, sideways glance. “Or what? You’re going to hit me?” he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Lowlanders… you never cease to underwhelm. I assure you, Commander, your daughter’s disappearance was not something I orchestrated. In fact, I did not know my own ward had absconded the kingdom until, well, not long before you lot barged in.”

Isandri’s features sharpened into a disapproving scowl. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I did not kidnap her. In fact, I have not even met with her.” Arlan sat up a little straighter and combed a hand through his sweaty, dark golden hair. “But I know for a fact that she has left Maldobar … and she’s taken Lukani with her.”

5

CHAPTER FIVE

My heart seemed to stop altogether for a few moments. I stood there, staring at him, trying to fathom that. Maylea had left Maldobar? How? And why? Where would she go? Why would she take Lukani with her?

I knew of the boy. I knew he had helped Murdoc, Thatcher, and the others years ago, while they were dealing with Iksoli. But beyond that? He hadn’t exactly been a frequent houseguest, and I had only seen him in passing. According to the others, he was an odd young man, but helpful and true to his word. Not someone I would have marked as a credible threat to the kingdom. So I had never given him much thought.

Now, I was wishing I had.

Before I could collect myself long enough to even choke out a sound, Arlan continued, “Lukani has long been my ward, but I don’t claim to have any sort of parental relationship with him. I certainly don’t claim to be his father—adoptive or otherwise. Rather, I have made efforts to see him raised in such a way that it would be possible for him to rejoin his own kind when he is ready. Rajinna are a complex species. One of the few who can count their origins back to the dawn of time, when the gods themselves first seeded life in this world. And unlike a majority of the other races now living today, they have kept their bloodlines relatively pure and excluded from outside dilution. Because of that, their magic has remained powerful and prevalent, especially in the Southern Kingdoms. Lukani knows this, and had begun to express a desire to return to his homeland in Nar’Haleen to seek out others like himself. That, I can only assume, is the reason he was so eager to facilitate your daughter with a means to … join your other companions in their mission.”

Wait—WHAT? I swallowed hard, trying to wrap my mind around everything he’d said. “You’re telling me … Maylea and Lukani left for Nar’Haleen?!”

“Yes,” he answered flatly, almost like he knew what was coming next.

I staggered, barely able to catch my breath as the truth hit me like a runaway fruit cart. Gods and Fates, that could only mean one thing—she had left with Reigh. She had gone with him and Thatcher to Nar’Haleen.

A sound somewhere between a growl, a scream, and a sob tore from my throat as I turned away and slammed a fist into the wall behind me. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t! It wasn’t just dangerous. It was deadly. Surely she knew that. Gods, why? Why would she do this? What could have possibly possessed her to want to run straight into the teeth of that nightmare?

“Calm yourself, Commander. As far as I was able to discern, no harm has befallen them thus far.” Despite his consoling words, Arlan’s tone stayed dry and somber.

“How far have they gotten?” Isandri asked coolly, her expression still sharp and thoughtful as she studied him.

“Far enough that I very much doubt you will be able to catch up with them, even by air,” he replied.

“And you’re sure about this? That they’re still at sea, faring well?” she pressed. “If we intend to go after them, we must know if we are heading into a conflict. We must be prepared.”

Arlan’s broad, angular shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Then he turned to level a no-nonsense stare in my direction with those eerie eyes glowing like two golden stars in the gloom. “As I’ve explained, my powers are waning. Every year I find myself able to do less and less with them, and the cost of performing even simple spells is becoming extreme. But with the help of ritualistic magic and the Mirror of Truth, as you call it, I am able to peer across the expanses of time and space to glimpse fragments of the past. That is, I can see events that have already happened. There are rules and limitations to it, of course. I must have an object or an individual as a focal point. In this case, I intended to find Lukani. I feared perhaps the Hands of Fate had taken him hostage. But it seems the young Miss Broadfeather is the one responsible for leading him away—not that I blame her. I’m sure he didn’t need much encouragement. He’s always been rather fond of her, and the allure of finally returning to Nar’Haleen likely seemed too good an opportunity for him to pass up. They departed and have been at sea three days now. They should reach Nar’Haleen within the next two days, and from there, the mission should be rather straightforward.”

“I’m hearing a lot of ‘shoulds’—but I think we can both agree that when it comes to missions like this, what should happen seldom ever does.” I growled as I turned to glare at him over my shoulder. My chest still heaved with ragged, angry breaths and my pulse throbbed in my now bruised knuckles.

“Of course. And for that reason, I intend to keep a keen eye upon them for as long as possible. But as I told his highness before their departure, from this distance, my abilities to intervene on his behalf are … limited.” Arlan gave a small grunt of discomfort as he leaned forward and pulled a book from one of the piles on his nightstand. “If you truly intend to go after them, I cannot do much to assist you, either. I can, however, strongly recommend summoning the help of your Queen. The time has come for her to be informed of what’s happening.”

I balked, blinking and shaking my head some. What? Now he wanted Jenna involved? Why? What had changed?

Unless …

My stomach hit the soles of my cold, rain-soaked boots as the truth rose up from within me like a swelling, icy tide. I closed my eyes as that feeling seemed to freeze me from the inside out, making my soul go numb with a fear I hadn’t felt in years.

Not since the last time I had glimpsed the Goddess of Death.

“Your sister has Ronan.” The words left my lips in a broken whisper, seeming to send that chill through the room, as well.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

Isandri sucked in a sharp breath of alarm.

“If I go to Queen Jenna … you know what it will mean,” I said, unable to stop my hands from shaking as a new fear grew before my mind’s eye, towering and terrible in a way I’d never dared to imagine.

“I do,” Arlan said, his voice now much softer and somber, as though he felt the weight of it, too.

“War,” I said it—someone had to. The risk was too great, to all-encompassing and destructive, to let it slip by in anonymity.

Arlan looked down at the book in his hand, running his fingers over the battered leather cover as though it were a faithful old friend. And for the first time, I saw real emotion crinkle his usually smooth features. Something like anguish. Regret. Sorrow. “There will be war, Commander, one way or another. The threads of destiny have long been drawn to it, just as they have to each of us. And I’m afraid the only things we get to choose about it is the when … the how … and which side we may die on.”

* * *

Arlan was right.

I knew that as I stepped back out into the rain, Murdoc and Isandri not far behind. Garnett had pleaded with us to stay in their cottage for the night, and while I despised the idea of trudging back across the city, I needed the space. I had to think. To consider every angle. To come up with some sort of a plan that might actually give us a chance at surviving what was undoubtedly coming next.

It was early morning, only minutes before sunrise, when we made our way back into the Speckled Sow. The kindly bartender showed us to a table in a private nook near the fire and offered to hang our cloaks to dry. She brought a round of warm ales and bowls of lamb stew, small loaves of hearty bread, and a platter of cheese and fruit. Murdoc passed a few gold coins to her and asked that she keep the ale coming. She grinned broadly, revealing a missing tooth right in the center of her smile, and assured us our cups wouldn’t run dry.

Isandri explained our situation to Murdoc, recounting every word while we ate. I had to admire her ability to remain calm and composed when talking about what might essentially be the end of the world as we knew it. My hands still shook whenever I tried to lift my fork. But eventually, having a belly full of warm food and drink helped give me back some energy. Too bad it didn’t do anything to soothe the fear and panic that tangled in my brain like a growing briar vine.

“Arlan is right,” Murdoc concluded as he sat back in his chair. “We have to tell Queen Jenna.”

“I know,” I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue. “But you know as well as I do what will come after.”

“She will take this as an act of war from Nar’Haleen,” he mumbled, nodding in agreement. “There’s a chance King Phillip can persuade her to try a diplomatic resolution, first. Perhaps merely sending word to the Emperor of Nar’Haleen and letting him know whom the boy belongs to would be enough. I doubt Nar’Haleen wants a war with Maldobar—especially when they are already locked into one with Damaria and Rienka. They certainly aren’t in a good position to be making new enemies.”

“But if the emperor has become aware of how powerful Ronan is, he may feign ignorance. If that Sadeera woman, Arlan’s sister, really has wormed her way into Nar’Haleen’s royal court and is pulling strings there, she will want every excuse not to give Ronan up. Not alive, anyway. To her, he is likely a powerful pawn. They may use his life as leverage,” Isandri reasoned.

“Would Nar’Haleen even consider Maldobar a credible threat? We are a long way away,” Murdoc wondered aloud. “Even with dragons, we would still be reliant on naval power to reach them—something we’re not exactly known for. Even if Queen Jenna launched every ship at her disposal, it wouldn’t be enough to contend with their navy.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table and rubbing at my chin and jaw as I thought. He was right, of course. Maldobar had a navy, but it wasn’t on the scale of anything found in the Southern Kingdoms. Our strength had always been in our landed armies. Specifically, in the dragonriders. But it was too far to fly.

“Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way,” Murdoc said, flicking a pensive glance up at me from over the rim of his mug.

Isandri arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think Arlan was right. War is coming—but not just one between kingdoms and navies. This Sadeera woman is trying to crack open the kingdom of the gods. She’s planning to attempt to usurp them. Somehow, now that she has Ronan, I doubt those efforts are going to go unnoticed by those deities. So we don’t need to think about what we can do to make Maldobar formidable against Nar’Haleen, we need to think about how to ally ourselves to the right side.”

“The divine one,” I agreed. My gaze panned over to Isandri, watching the firelight dance in her eerie, yellow-and-green sunburst eyes. She stared right back, her expression remaining as steady and resolved as ever. “You already have the support of one goddess, even if I am confined to a mortal form,” she declared, like she knew what I was going to ask next.

I couldn’t resist a small smile. “I’m glad to hear it. But what of the others?”

“You really think Thatcher would fight for anyone else?” Murdoc chuckled.

Right. Well, that made two deities on our side—even if they were bound in human bodies. Now wasn’t the time to be too choosy. I’d dealt with gods nearly all of my life, in one way or another. I knew most of them, when it came to dealing with the world of mortals, preferred fighting by proxy. They had a habit of finding “champions” in regular people, like Reigh and me, and gifting them with immense magical power rather than actually getting their hands dirty. For one of them to fully manifest here, in the mortal world was … well, almost unheard of.

Almost.

I had seen that happen only once during our final battle with the invading tyrant, Lord Argonox. Clysiros had crossed beyond the divine realm and come to our world in the flesh … and the repercussions of that fleeting moment could still be felt today. Nothing grew on the ground where her feet had tread, and the people whose lives and souls she had impacted were left forever scarred.

Reigh was living proof of that. Now, I suspected Ronan would be, as well.

“We’re going to have to recruit,” Murdoc continued, staring down into his ale horn with a hard frown. “Specifically, we’re going to have to recruit the gods to fight or urge them to choose someone to fight in their name. If Sadeera really has the Emperor of Nar’Haleen under her control, then we have to assume his armies are at her disposal, too. She will likely use any means necessary to see her mission succeed. Our best hope for stopping any of this is to cut off the head of the serpent and take her out first. But we’ve all seen the kind of power that woman is capable of. Without divine help, we will be at a serious disadvantage. Getting as many deities onboard to assist is the only way we walk away from this on the winning side.”

“Our thoughts exactly,” a cheery, feminine voice agreed suddenly.

We all looked up at once to find Garnett and Roxus making their way toward our table. Garnett grinned from one dimpled cheek to the other as she pulled up a chair right between Murdoc and Isandri and swiped Isandri’s mostly untouched drink to down it all in one swig. “Glad to hear we’re all on the same page already.” She beamed as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

Roxus, on the other hand, took his time collecting a chair from a neighboring table and settling into it beside me. With his tall, thin frame dressed in a long brown coat, heavy leather boots, and not a single weapon hanging from his belt, he honestly wasn’t much to look at. Like an old scarecrow that had been left out in the elements for too long.

Hmm. I had to wonder what sort of skills a man like him might bring to our little endeavor. As far as I could discern, he was a human somewhere in his thirties, and apparently hadn’t bothered to bathe in a few days. Or maybe that was just the lingering fragrance coming from that pipe he pulled out of a pocket and lit up again. It was hard to tell, honestly. But something on him gave off a powerful, almost musky odor that reminded me of wet dog.

Strange.

I wasn’t fool enough to think he wasn’t a threat, though—even if he did look about as average as any other soggy traveler that might stumble in here tonight.

“You really think leaving Arlan alone in his current state is a good idea?” Murdoc asked, his own steely gaze settling onto Roxus, as well. I knew that look. Jace had stared me down like that many times. It must have been some sort of Ulfrangar interrogation method. Maybe he would be able to sense something about the man I couldn’t?

“He’s not alone,” Garnett replied as she waved a hand, signaling for the barmaid to bring us another round of drinks. “Howlan’s worth about ten of us in a fight, and he’s jumpy as a jackrabbit already.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roxus huffed as he sank a lit match into the herbs smoldering from his long, curved wooden pipe and took a few deep breaths.

Garnett just rolled her eyes a little. “Pay no mind to Roxus, he’s a bit stuffy, but he’s a good’n. And he agrees, as well. We’re going to need to recruit as many deities as we can to lend us their power if we’re going to come out of this smelling clean and rosy.”

“I take it that means you have a plan?” Isandri slid her next drink over to Garnett as soon as the barmaid set it down on the table before her. “Or that Arlan has given you some manner of instructions?”

“Both,” Roxus grunted, holding his pipe between his teeth as he slowly panned his gaze around the table at each of us. His guarded, dark brown eyes didn’t give anything away. “But first thing’s first. It’s gonna require some of us to make a deal with a god or two. I think we can all appreciate exactly what that means. Gods and goddesses don’t have a long-standing history for cutting fair deals with mortals, eh? But in this case, it’s the only shot any of us have got. So, by show of hands, who’s ready to sell their soul to save the world?”

PART TWO

REIGH

6

CHAPTER SIX

“AUBREN?!”

My voice echoed through the cold stone hallway as I ran, yelling my brother’s name to the darkness around me. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, legs aching with every step. I couldn’t force myself to move faster, no matter how I fought. My body dragged, every movement so sluggish and strained. Gods, it felt like running through wet sand. What was wrong with me? Was I injured? Bleeding out? Is that why everything seemed so blurred?

I didn’t know. But I couldn’t stop.

I forced myself to keep running, driving my legs harder and harder with every shred of strength I had. I passed doorways barred with iron. Cells. One after another, endlessly, everywhere, like a twisting maze of stone and metal.

But all of them were dark and empty.

I was … alone.

“Aubren! Answer me!” I cried out again.

No reply.

Oh gods, I could hear them now. The wild shouts of soldiers and the baying of war hounds grew louder by the second. Thundering footsteps and the clatter of heavy armor followed me, getting closer and closer. They had to be right on my heels! I looked back, trying to get a glimpse of just how close they were, but there was nothing. No light. No figures in the gloom. Just the sound of them gaining on me no matter how hard I ran.

Tibran soldiers.

Faster—I had to go faster. I had to find my brother and get us both out of there right now.

CRACK!

I slammed headlong into something big and solid right in front of me and bounced off like a toy ball. I staggered backward and tripped, landing on my back. All the wind rushed out of me as my head cracked off the stone. Bright spots danced in my vision. Everything seemed to spin.

Boots crunched on the stone, stopping right over me. A huge, looming figure bent over me. Then a face appeared right in front of mine.

A man’s vicious, cold smile. Eyes like firelit cobalt. Chiseled features drawn and sunken, like an aged corpse that still resembled a tyrant I knew all too well.

“You thought you could escape me, little prince?” Lord Argonox sneered as he reached down and closed a big fist around my throat.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Tears filled my eyes as I clawed at his black metal gauntlet—anything to try to get away. Gods, please, no. Not again. Please … I-I couldn’t … I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t fight him. Where were my weapons? Where was Jaevid? Help! Someone help me!

I let out a garbled, rasping cry as his grip tightened on my throat. His smile grew wider, stretching and twisting in a way that should have been impossible. It was too wide and warped his features like soft clay. His eyes grew larger with wicked delight. “Cry for them, prince! Cry for them to come save you! No one hears you down here. This kingdom is mine.” Argonox leaned down, putting his mouth right against my ear as he snarled. “And so are you.”

I pitched and flailed in his grip, fighting with all my strength to get free. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t even flinch. Every blow I landed felt weak and pathetic. I-I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t get away. I was trapped. Gods and Fates, I was trapped again.

Help. S-Someone …. Jaevid … Isandri … KIRAN!! Please! HELP ME!

“You think they would even want to rescue you? The Angel of Death?” Argonox snickered as he snatched me up, holding me off my feet with one massive, powerful hand. “The slaughterer of Barrowton? The one who killed his own father in cold blood? You think they’ll ever truly forgive you? You think they’ll ever forget? You know they whisper at your back. They can’t wait to be rid of you.”

Air. Gods, I needed air! Just one breath! I clawed at his arm, still twisting and fighting to breathe. I-I had to. I-I couldn’t hang on.

I-I was … dying.

Alone.

Again.

“No one mourns a monster, boy,” Argonox cackled, his voice booming over me as he gave my neck one final, vice-tight squeeze. I choked. Suddenly, my arms and legs wouldn’t move at all. I hung limp, helpless, staring straight into the cold light that smoldered in his eyes.

“You belong in the abyss … right here beside me … forever.”

* * *

“NO!!”

I bolted upright, throwing the blanket off my chest and yelling into the dark. My whole body shook out of control and my chest heaved with ragged breaths as I sat upright, staring into the black abyss around me.

O-Oh, gods! Wh-Where was I? What was happening? Where was Argonox?! The Tibrans? Th-They had to be here somewhere!

“Shhh. Calm down. You are safe, Reigh. Look at me,” a soft, feminine voice cooed gently as something stroked my forehead down to my chin, slowly guiding me to look straight ahead. “Look at me, Reigh, and try to remember.”

R-Remember …?

I blinked slowly as a wave of frigid chills swept over my body from my head all the way down to the tips of my toes. My body shuddered hard and I bit down, shutting my eyes tightly. That’s when I finally realized what that feeling was—the touch of warm, gentle hands cradling my face.

I blinked again, and my vision slowly began to clear. I looked down, straight into the face of a beautiful young woman with long, silvery white hair and wide, ruby-colored eyes. She stared back at me, much shorter and more petite, with her brow slightly crinkled with concern.

I … I knew her. Even if I couldn’t remember her name. I-I knew her face. Her fair, flawless skin. Her smooth, almost breathy voice as she said my name again.

“Reigh, can you hear me? You’re safe. We’re not anywhere near that tower.”

She was right. I wasn’t in Northwatch. I was … Gods, where was I?

The young woman holding my face in her hands gave a quick, nervous smile. It made me tense with sudden recognition as a name suddenly broke through my mind like the first clap of thunder from a summer storm.

Her name.

“V-Violet?” My voice came out weak and broken.

She sank down some, relief making her features go slack for an instant. She let out a small sigh and nodded. Then she slowly drew her hands back away from me. “Yes. It’s me. You were having a nightmare.”

A nightmare?

Oh, Fates. Not again.

Sweat ran down the sides of my face and dripped from the end of my nose as I stared around the room, still shivering so hard it made my neck and back ache. In the weak light of dawn, I could barely make out the shapes of Maylea, Lukani, and Thatcher still sound asleep on their pallets nearby.

Right. We were in Rienka. We’d come here on a mission from Arlan to collect some sacred codex and rescue my nephew.

I sagged forward, burying my face in my hands. But I couldn’t get my body to stop trembling. My sweat-soaked clothes stuck to my skin, and my heart pounded so hard it made my ribs ache and my ears ring.

“Are you alright?” Violet whispered, and I could have sworn there was real concern in her tone.

I didn’t dare look up to check, though. “F-Fine,” I managed through chattering teeth.

“You don’t look fine,” she countered. “Your eyes were open, but it was as though you were still asleep. You were shouting. Crying for help. Calling out for … many people.”

She had heard all that? Great. My face burned and I rubbed my brow with my fingers, hoping she wouldn’t see my face turn red. “I’m fine. Really,” I wheezed. “Just give me a minute.”

She did—one minute exactly. Then Violet puffed a tight, frustrated breath and got to her feet, moving over to loop an arm under mine and drag me to my feet. “Come on. You need to wash off and get some air.”

“S-Stop. I’m fine. I-I don’t need—” I started to protest weakly.

“Hush,” she said sharply, flicking me one of those no-nonsense glares that made my mouth snap shut on instinct. “Just let me help you. Your tunic is soaked. You’re as pale as a peeled banana. If you’re going to be sick, you should do it outside, and we can rinse your shirt and hang it to dry.”

Ugh. Fine. Whatever.

I wobbled as Violet helped me out the front door of the tiny, first-floor room we had rented for the last few nights. The first blast of salty night air through my hair made my skin prickle. It immediately cleared my senses, though. My vision sharpened and I took in a deep, full breath. Immediately, my pulse slowed, like I was breathing in a soothing balm that soaked down all the way to my soul.

I guess the ocean had that effect.

“Down with you,” Violet urged as she led me to the small patio outside our room and sat me down in a chair woven from thin bamboo poles. She disappeared inside for a moment, then returned with a bucket of water. She put it down in front of me, right between my knees, and began untying my tunic and tugging it up over my head.

I didn’t have the strength to fight her on it. Not when every muscle in my body throbbed like I’d just finished a sparring match with Murdoc. With my shirt off and bare skin now feeling every slight sea breeze, I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

“Do you dream of that place often?” Violet asked, her tone quiet and cautious as she dipped a rag into the bucket of water, wrung it out, and began wiping off my back and arms.

“I can do this myself, you know. I just need a minute to catch my breath,” I protested, hoping she would take the hint and not push that topic any further.

She didn’t.

“It’s okay if you’d like to talk to me about it. I realize I’m probably not your first choice of confidant, but … Thatcher hasn’t fully recovered and I do know how to keep a secret. Arlan mentioned you are still tormented by the things that happened to you in Northwatch,” she murmured as she wiped at my shoulders. “I admit, I’ve heard only brief accounts of it.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I muttered. “I was a Tibran hostage during the war. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what they liked to do to their captives. I didn’t get special treatment just because I was a royal.”

Her tone softened as she stepped around in front of me and started to gingerly wipe at my face. “On the contrary, I’ve been told that you were given … very special treatment.”

My mouth screwed up, and I locked my jaw against the swell of something hot and furious that surged in my blood. It stabbed and stung and twisted inside me like a knot of metal shards. An emotion I didn’t have a name for. Shame, maybe? Whatever it was, I didn’t want her to see it.

It didn’t matter. Violet must have been able to tell because she stopped with the cloth still pressed against my cheek.

Her scarlet eyes searched me, lips pressed into an uncomfortable, uncertain line. “You don’t have to lie. You don’t have to hide it. Not from me. I’m a Pitathi mercenary turned spy for one of the most dangerous criminal lords in the world. Not exactly someone in a position to judge you for anything in your past, hm?”

“It’s not that,” I admitted, bowing my head and letting my eyes roll closed.

“Then what is it? Why don’t you talk to anyone about what happened there?”

I … I didn’t know. Lots of reasons that had changed and compiled over the years. At first, it was too hard. Then it felt wrong to burden everyone else around me with that sort of thing because they had their own issues to work out. Why should they have to worry about mine? I should have been able to handle my own problems—to control my emotions.

But I couldn’t. Not all the time. So, sometimes, it just came out. I lost my temper over stupid things. I ran my mouth. I acted like a jerk. All because I was just so … tired. Mentally. Spiritually. I was a patched-up waterskin that had been filled to burst and was leaking from the seams.

Then, years had passed, and there were more important things to do and worry about than some stupid bad thing that had happened to me years ago. I just had to function. To make it through each day. Complaining wouldn’t fix it anyway, right? So I might as well forge on. Force it down. Be strong. And maybe, after a while, I’d start to forget.

Only, that wasn’t exactly going well.

“Sometimes … it’s like I’m just fighting to survive being in my own head. And … and I’m losing,” I heard myself confess. But that voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded so small, pathetic, and defeated.

I hated it.

And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The words poured out in a rush as I wrung my hands through my sweat-soaked hair. “Sometimes I could swear I’m still there, chained up in that tower, just waiting to die. Like this, being here or back in Maldobar at the Academy, is the dream and the nightmare is the real world. And I can’t escape, so I just keep going in circles. Running. Trying to fight to stay alive. But I’m … Gods, I’m so tired. I can’t run for much longer. And it feels like he knows that. He knows everything—every horrible thing I’ve done.”

“He?” Violet asked.

I snarled his name through my teeth like a curse. “Argonox.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I scrambled through my own frazzled brain, trying to collect the scattered shards of my sanity and resist the urge to start ripping fistfuls of my hair out. Gods and Fates, why was I saying any of this to her? It was stupid. Beyond stupid. I couldn’t trust her. I barely knew her. We weren’t friends. We were barely allies.

She didn’t care about me.

Strong fingertips touched my chin, lifting my head so I had to look up and meet her gaze again. “You’re not alone. Not here. Not there. Never. You know this, don’t you? You know the love your friends have for you? You’re not a burden they are forced to bear. There’s not a single one of them that wouldn’t lay down their lives for you, just as you’ve sacrificed so much of yourself for them. You look at yourself and see only failure, but you don’t see the way others regard you when your back is turned. You are a man they respect. A man they know they can count on. A man who tends to the suffering, comforts the dying, and fights for those who cannot fight on their own. You are, and always have been, a good man, Reigh Farrow. A bit rash and mule-headed at times. But good.”

I stared at her, unable to keep my mouth from hanging open like the hole on a birdhouse. Little by little, heat crept over my face like a fresh sunburn. I had to swallow a few times before I could even make a sound.

“You don’t … know that,” I managed to rasp.

“I do know that. It’s my job to know things. To notice them. To read people’s behaviors and intentions. And I am very good at my job,” she warned and tapped the end of my nose with her finger. “So take my word over some figment in a nightmare. There is nowhere on earth you might go where your friends would not come to your rescue.”

Gods, I hoped she was right about that. We might need their help if things didn’t improve on our end here.

Sitting up, I let out a deep, shaking sigh. The tension in my body was gone. The shaking had stopped. I felt grounded—present—again. My thoughts were clear as I looked down at my scar-flecked arms and hands, wondering at all the past injuries that had left them there. Training in Luntharda with Kiran as a kid. The war. Dealing with Iksoli and the Ulfrangar. Training again in the Academy with Thatcher and Murdoc. Teaching my own students there.

I had to wonder what new scars I’d be earning here.

“I should, uh, I mean … I guess … thank you. You know, for … this,” I stammered and waved to the space between us. Great. Ugggh. Why did I always say stupid stuff? Honestly, I was a grown man. A prince! And a dragonrider! Get it together already!

Violet had that cattish grin on her lips as she stood back and crossed her arms, cocking her hips to one side. “Can’t have you falling apart now, can I? Then there’d only be one adult voice of reason left in our merry band.”

Right. Well. Fair point.

“Hopefully we will have Thatcher back on his feet soon, too,” I said, half making that a prayer to whatever gods might be listening.

“I have the utmost faith,” Violet purred. I could feel her gaze on me as I stood and stretched my arms, trying to work some of the stiffness out before I went to rinse out my shirt in the bucket of water and wring it out.

“I know it frightens you, but it’s okay to feel things that hurt sometimes,” she said quietly. “The important thing is not to latch onto those feelings. Let them slip by you like wind through the trees. Let them come, but most importantly, let them go.”

I stopped and looked back at her. That distant, almost bittersweet expression on her features made my heartbeat skip and stall. Somehow, it almost seemed like she knew that firsthand. Or maybe she was repeating advice someone else had given her? I didn’t know, but she bowed her head and began walking back into our room. “Goodnight, Lieutenant. I hope you’ll sleep well for the rest of the night.”

7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I did manage to sleep better after that.

Unfortunately, that was about the only good news I had to lean on as time dragged on in that cramped room. We were stuck until Thatcher was well enough to get around and handle himself in case we got into another fight. But that didn’t look like it was going to happen anytime soon.

“He’s getting worse,” Violet whispered as she sat down next to me. Cradling two cups of spiced tea. She handed one to me before settling in with her own, blowing over it gently while keeping her gaze trained upon the rest of our group gathered around the firepit.

Across the common area of the small room we’d rented closer to the port, I could see plainly what she was talking about. Thatcher’s hands shook so badly, he struggled for each bite of the rice and fish porridge Violet had prepared for us. By the time he got the spoon to his lips, there wasn’t much left on it. His coloring was ashen and there were dusky circles under his eyes. Not good signs.

After a few minutes of watching him struggle, Maylea scooted over and offered to help. Our eyes met as she took the bowl and spoon from him and started feeding him small bites. Right. I guess she could see it, too. Curse it. I couldn’t afford to sit back and wait for much longer.

After three days, I’d hoped to see Thatcher turn a corner. Sure, he had taken a bad hit. He’d lost a lot of blood. But I’d stitched him up well and I was confident I hadn’t missed anything in that department. In any other circumstance, I’d expect him to be up and walking around, being his usually obnoxiously cheery self.

But our current circumstances were less favorable.

When it came to medical miracles, my bag of tricks was pretty empty now. I’d used up all the healing salve I’d brought along—salve that undoubtedly would have prevented infection, sped up the healing process, and helped Thatcher get his strength back.

Instead, he was as ashen as a corpse, and I didn’t like the yellow color I saw in the whites of his eyes. That usually meant toxins were building up in his body. He might be going septic. Thatcher couldn’t walk more than a few steps without collapsing. He couldn’t even stand without help. We could barely get him to eat more than a couple of small bites, and he’d begun running a fever with a cold sweat at night.

All signs pointing to a dangerous infection—which was always a great risk when it came to deep abdominal wounds around the stomach and intestines. If this went on for much longer, he could deteriorate beyond anyone’s ability to help him. Not that we hadn’t tried. Violet had already gone out a few times to try and purchase local remedies, but none of them proved to be as potent or effective as the salve they could make in Luntharda. No surprise there. Healing practices from Luntharda were renowned as the best in the world.

And we were a long way from Kiran’s clinic.

That really only left one choice. Thatcher would continue to get worse. He’d die without more aggressive treatment. That wouldn’t happen. No one was dying here. Not on my watch.

“Tonight, I’m going back down to the port. With any luck, the Fog Dancer is still there and I can find Judan again. There’s a chance he has some of that salve among his own belongings,” I murmured, keeping my tone low so that only Violet would hear me.

“And if Judan is nowhere to be found?” Violet studied me, her lips pressed to the rim of her teacup as she took careful sips.

Right. She didn’t have to spell it out to me. I could read it all over her face. She didn’t like the idea of me going off on my own. Not that I blamed her. I wasn’t exactly wild about it, either.

The last time we’d split our group, things hadn’t gone well. An old enemy of hers, Sulam, had ambushed Thatcher and abducted the two kids. That’s how our resident godling had wound up with a gaping hole in his gut. Violet and I had managed to save him, but only barely, and we couldn’t stand around high-fiving about it. We’d been forced to leave him basically right away to rescue Maylea and Lukani from Sulam’s personal death arena, known as the Caldera.

Only … I guess they hadn’t needed much help from us, in the end. Maylea had apparently forged some sort of bond with a massive white dragon that had been chained in that arena with them. We had managed to set the dragon free before making a run for our lives, and somehow all returned here, to the island of Sol’Karr, in one piece. I wasn’t dumb enough to call it skill. Luck was about all I had to thank for any of us making it out of that place alive.

Well, luck … and maybe a little Broadfeather-brand divine intervention.

Apparently, the same deity that had once been the source of all Jaevid’s power was now showing an interest in his daughter. I could imagine how he might feel about that—probably similar to the way I felt about Clysiros being a presence in Ronan’s life. Like I was going to throw up and then run away screaming.

I wanted nothing more than to slam the door on anything else that smacked of the divine. Getting tangled up in the affairs of the gods had brought me nothing but suffering and grief. They’d already torn my life apart over and over. I didn’t owe them another second of my time.

But the guy sitting over there, getting spoon fed like a baby because he was too weak to hold his own bowl of porridge, needed my help. He was one of my closest friends. And he was running out of time and options. I couldn’t just stand by and watch him suffer. I was a healer. And if I couldn’t get the supplies I needed from somewhere in the port, then I’d have to resort to drastic measures, too.

Gods, if it came to that, I just hoped Jaevid would somehow be able to forgive me for it.

Naaah. He was definitely going to murder me on sight. You know, providing someone else didn’t beat him to it.

“I’m taking Maylea with me,” I said, knowing full well I didn’t have to explain to her why. Violet was clever enough to work out what my motives were. “You think you can handle babysitting both of them?” I nodded toward Thatcher and Lukani.

Her lips pursed unhappily, but she gave a small nod and sipped at her tea again. “Take care you stay to the main streets and move with crowds when you can. With Sulam causing such a spectacle, and the Zenith’s Call ignoring my requests to meet, I have no doubts we are being watched very carefully.”

“By the Hands of Fate or the Zenith’s Call?” I asked.

She shrugged slightly. “Both, at least. I’m sure there are others who have taken notice of our presence, by now. They will grow bolder if we linger in one place for long.”

“I figured.” I sighed and rubbed at the back of my neck as I looked down into the teacup she’d handed me. The spicy aroma stung at my nose with a flavor almost like cinnamon. I took a cautious sip and closed my eyes as that subtle burn of spices left a warm trail down my throat. Hmm. Not bad. “I don’t suppose you have any grand ideas about how to get all of us across that desert, eh?”

She turned up her own cup to finish off the contents before putting it aside. “I do, actually. But it’s going to be complicated, given the situation Sulam’s interference has left us in. I can only assume that is why the Zenith’s Call haven’t responded to any of my attempts to contact them. They don’t like getting tangled up in public conflicts, and we have made ourselves a very indiscreet target. One problem at a time, though. See to your friend.”

I shifted some and kept my gaze focused down into my cup as I thought—allowing my brain a few more seconds to chew on what I had to ask her next. Things were … different between us now. Or, it seemed that way to me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on how, though. Relaxed, maybe? Friendly, even? Eh, regardless, there was no good way to bring this up. No amount of fancy phrasing would mask it. Violet would catch on right away.

So, might as well get it over with.

“Is there a temple to Clysiros on this island?”

Violet froze. For a few seconds, I couldn’t tell if she was even breathing. Then, slowly, her head turned to focus a wide-eyed stare of alarm right at me like a beacon from a lighthouse. I could see the look of silent horror on her delicate features out of the corner of my eye, like I’d just asked her to ram one of her daggers into my ear. Oh boy.

I swallowed hard and kept my head down, chewing on the inside of my cheek while I waited for her to answer.

“I know things seem rather bleak at the moment, but do you really think that is the answer to our problem? To healing your friend?” she questioned, her tone frosty and sharp with disapproval.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we’re running out of options. And … I need to know why I’m seeing Noh again. I thought our bond was severed. I thought he couldn’t even come back into the mortal world. He was supposed to be contained within the Vale, acting as a shepherd to the souls passing on to the Fates for judgement. But I know what I saw. He’s here, using his power to manipulate the threads of life and death, and he called me out face-to-face. I need to know what this means.”

Violet was silent for a moment, although her scarlet eyes still studied me like she was searching for some hidden secret in my scrappy, unshaven, sleep-deprived face. Hah. Too bad I was all out of surprises—which was the entire reason I was even willing to entertain speaking to Clysiros again, by the way. Desperation was a cruel master. Or, uh, mistress, in this case.

“I can handle it,” I assured her, finally meeting her gaze.

Her lips pursed some, pinching together bitterly like there was something more she wanted to say. Her eyebrows drew up as something like concern passed over her face like a rainstorm slipping into the bay at Southwatch. Wait a second, was that … concern? For me?

No.

No, no, no—I was reading way too much into that. Maybe it was some level of concern, but I did not dare take it personally. She probably just didn’t want to be the last sane, fully functional adult in our little group. I mean, she’d said that before, right? Totally understandable.

“There is a hidden grotto in the city of Salnis, east of here. Supposedly, the trail leading to it that starts in the caverns beneath the city’s main temple grounds, but I have never been there myself. It is a long way from here, however,” she answered quietly, sinking back some with her shoulders drawn in. “I do hope you know what you’re doing, Lieutenant.”

I managed a weak, tired smile and took my last long sip of that spicy tea. “Nope. Not at all. But it’ll take more than a little divine fury to bring me down. I’ve walked this path of gods and secrets before. I know exactly where it leads.”

* * *

“Two rules,” I grumbled as I fixed Maylea’s cloak, pulling the hood down over her head to hide as much of her face as possible.

“Let me guess,” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Stay close and don’t talk.”

I pursed my lips and glared down at her. “Reading minds, are we?”

“No. But that’s what everyone keeps telling me, like I don’t know how to handle myself at all,” she sulked.

Alright. Fine. I was probably babying her too much. How could I not? I’d been one of the first people to ever put a blade in her hand and teach her to use it. She wasn’t my kid, but sometimes it felt like she might as well have been. She called me her uncle, and she was the closest thing to a real niece I’d probably ever have.

But given the antics I’d seen from her lately, I also knew exactly what level of destruction she was capable of. Jaevid-level. I was taking no chances.

“Actually, I was going say stay close and keep your eyes open,” I said and handed her the fine, Gray elven bow and quiver she’d acquired from Judan. “This isn’t a lecture, it’s a warning. Training is over. This is real life with real threats. And now you know exactly what our enemy might try to take. So keep those eyes trained on anything that seems off, and tell me immediately. Murdoc taught you how to watch a crowd, how to feel people out, and what to look for when it comes to suspicious behavior. I’m trusting you to have my back. Understand?”

That look of rebellious exasperation was gone when she looked back at me, her vibrant sea-green eyes now sharp and focused. Maylea nodded and gripped the bow hard, her jawline going tense as she answered, “I won’t let you down.”

“It’s not about letting me down, May. I don’t doubt your resolve or your ability. Just trust your instincts and everything we’ve taught you.” I put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, realizing too late that Kiran had done the same thing to me probably a thousand times when I was her age.

Wow. I guess I was going full dad-mode, after all. Sweet Fates, someone send help.

“We’ll, uh, we’ll be back before dawn.” I cleared my throat and turned away, going to the door. I paused with my hand on the knob and flicked one last glance over my shoulder to Violet. Behind her, Lukani had taken over helping change Thatcher’s bandages again. My still-tiny dragoness, Vexi, perched on his shoulder like a scaly green parrot, watching and chirping curiously. I had to give that kid some credit. He was a fast learner, and the sight of the angry, red, infected wound didn’t seem to faze him at all.

If anxiety had a face, it looked a lot like Violet’s as she stepped closer and eclipsed my view. She grasped my other hand and slipped a small object into it, swiftly folding my fingers around it. Hmm. Was that a coin?

“Remember what I said. Keep to the main roads as much as you can. But if anyone from the Zenith’s Call approaches you, give them this. It bears Arlan’s seal. They’ll know what it means,” she leaned in closer to whisper, her scarlet gaze holding mine for a single shared second as she squeezed my hand earnestly. A tiny hint of her scent, something like jasmine, wafted past my nose.

Tingling heat crept up my neck and spread over my cheeks. Oh, gods. I-I had to go. Right now. “And they’ll let me go about my business without a problem, right?” I forced a cracking, horrible excuse for a laugh as I pulled away and took a step closer to the door.

She gave me a similarly uncomfortable, forced smile back. “That depends on who sent them. But at the very least, they might not kill you outright.”

Great. Well, that was something, I guess. I nodded and turned around, nearly crashing right into Maylea who stood close by, grinning wolfishly from under her hood. I didn’t like her mischievous, cunning little grin one bit. Like she knew something she shouldn’t. What was there to know?

I mean, yes. It was sort of intimate for Violet to act that way toward me. Leaning in all close and whispering like we were, you know, something secret. Ugh. No. Even if she was beautiful, I wasn’t that stupid. Violet was like a flowering greevwood tree—beautiful, fragrant, and tempting, but likely to explode violently and blow my head clean off my shoulders if I messed around with her at all.

And I liked having my head on my shoulders, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop my face from burning with embarrassed heat as I basically shoved Maylea out the door ahead of me. She snickered and waggled her eyebrows at me as she nibbled at her bottom lip.

“You like her, don’t you?” she jibed.

“No,” I fumed as I stomped forward into the late evening’s cool, briny wind.

“Oh, come on, Uncle Reigh. I saw that. And you’re still blushing, by the way,” she practically skipped along beside me like an excited baby goat.

“Shut up and walk,” I growled through my teeth and pulled my own hood down low. “We’re on a life and death mission here, remember? Assassins everywhere?”

“It’s not like it’s a bad thing, you know,” Maylea sighed and adjusted the strap to her quiver. She had slung it and her bow across her back, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. “So what if you like her? You’re always alone. You should have someone that makes you happy.”

“I am happy,” I growled again, trying to sound as resolved and threatening as possible as I walked faster, making my way down the side of the broad, sloped avenue toward the port.

“Oh yeah. You sound sooo happy,” she taunted, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Augggh. No. I was not about to have this conversation, especially not with her. She wasn’t even fifteen. What could she possibly know about love? It wasn’t the sappy, doughy feelings she probably had for Lukani now. Sure, it started that way. But that wasn’t real. It didn’t last.

I knew better than most that love was a battle—one I’d already lost years ago. I wasn’t ready to rejoin it again. Maybe I never would be. And that was fine. I could manage alone. I’d been doing it for years, hadn’t I? I was content on my own. Content was a lot better than most people could ever hope for, anyway.

Hoping and dreaming of anything else was foolish. I didn’t need that door slammed on my nose again.

“Just keep your eyes and ears open,” I reminded her sharply as we sped along the roadside, passing the glowing windows of restaurants, taverns, and homes that lined either side of the street. Beyond, the ghostly dark figures of people moved, silhouetted against the old, wavered glass. Strands of shells and sea glass hanging from some of the eaves tinkled musically in the wind.

Here, the lives of the commonfolk seemed slower and simpler than in the port cities of Maldobar. They didn’t have to fight the fierce cold in the winter and the near-constant rain in the summer. There was an easiness and sense of calm that seemed to seep into the very stone of the place. Maybe that was what kept my nerves drawn as tight as bowstrings as we moved, fast and silent, toward the port.

Like ripples on the surface of a calm pond, we were a disruption to the usual tranquility here. And it wouldn’t be long until someone in the dark noticed our disturbance, and smelled blood in the water.

8

CHAPTER EIGHT

A thick fog curled in from the island’s massive bay, slowly seeping into the streets and drifting soundlessly through every alley. It made the lanterns lit along the sidewalks glow like wisps floating in the night.

My pulse thumped hard and heavy, battering against my ribs as I watched every group of people, every dark corner, and every side street we passed. Having a dagger in the side of my boot and my kafki blades belted at my hips didn’t make me feel any more relaxed or confident. I was in unfamiliar territory, dancing around an enemy I knew next to nothing about, and hoping I didn’t trip and fall right into the point of someone’s blade.

Not great odds, even for me.

I just hoped whatever powers were watching us would hold off, spare us another attack, until I found a way to help Thatcher. Otherwise, Maylea might not be the only one dealing out a little divine intervention. Just the thought of dealing with Clysiros again, in any capacity, was enough to snatch all the breath from my lungs and leave my body thrumming with fury and pure terror. But she was calling me out personally, and I might not have any other choice.

Was Clysiros evil? I’d assumed so, at first. She certainly liked to revel in the dark and taboo elements of society. But, no. Death wasn’t inherently evil, and neither was she. Death was a natural part of life’s cycle. It just wasn’t a terribly popular one.

But did that mean I trusted Clysiros to do anything except further her own agenda by any means necessary? No. Absolutely not. I knew exactly what side she was on—her own. And the only pawns she liked moving were the ones decidedly in her favor.

Seeing Noh wasn’t a good omen. The gods were stirring, choosing sides, and picking their favorite pieces on the gameboard. That probably meant Arlan’s evil sister was, too. Or at the very least, she was doing something bad enough to encourage the gods to act. Rocking the proverbial divine boat. That wasn’t good news for anyone.

I stopped at a street corner where the road ahead took a steep downward slope, offering a broad view of Sol’karr’s huge, circular port. Ships bobbed in the moonlit fog by the thousands, watched over by the central tower that rose up right in the middle of the bay. Its brilliant beacon turned slowly, panning a wide beam of light all around the docks.

The Fog Dancer was somewhere out there. We just had to find it—fast.

“Ready?” I murmured.

Maylea nodded firmly.

Good. Trekking onward, I set my teeth against the swell of adrenaline. The port roads were busier. There would be many prying eyes taking note of our passage. We had to tread lightly and get this done.

Then, I had a date with death herself.

Every step sent a jolt through me, a little rush of apprehension that made my fingertips tingle. Something Noh had said still stuck in my mind like a needle, pricking at my every thought and digging in deeper and deeper. He had mentioned that we were the last to leave the starting line. What did that mean? Were others being chosen just like Maylea had been?

I stole a glance to the left, spotting the rising structure of the grand temple to the sea goddess, Undae, bathed in golden torchlight. It was the largest of all the holy structures on the island, with a domed roof plated in gold and walls of clean white alabaster stone. Even at a distance, I could see the massive pillars that lined the front, and each one was the size of one of the colossal trees in Luntharda.

Sites like that were rare in Luntharda and Maldobar. Not many of them had survived the tests of time. They’d been buffeted by war after war over the centuries, and were now destroyed, buried, or forgotten.

Something about that sight, of beautiful temples gleaming in the night, sent chills up my spine. Should I really go to that grotto? Should I answer Clysiros’s call again? It might be my best shot at getting real answers about what was going on with Noh. And if things continued to go poorly for us, I might need her strength and power to ensure our success. I might need it to save Ronan.

But nothing from the gods ever came for free. The price for that kind of power would be steep. The thought made my head spin and a little wave of nausea turn my stomach like I’d taken a sip of sour milk. It wouldn’t end well. Encounters with Clysiros never did. But what other choice was there?

Sooner or later, I’d have to decide.

Maylea stuck close at my back as we drew closer and closer to the docks, sweeping through crowds of sailors making their way inland to the taverns and inns for the night. None of them seemed to pay us much attention as we passed. All focused on getting a stiff drink and a warm place to sit, I suppose. Good.

We walked the dockside street for nearly an hour, making our way back to where we’d left Judan and the ship only a few days ago. I honestly had no way of knowing if he would still be there, making repairs to the Fog Dancer and preparing it to get underway again, or if he was long gone. If he did leave, I didn’t know where he would go. Maybe he’d set off after Malina and the Squall Queen again, ready to exact his revenge. I sort of doubted he’d suffer a sudden attack of conscience and go back home—even if that’s exactly what he should have done. He was working through some bitterness, clearly. I guess we had that in common, though. We were both princes who were destined to walk in the shadow of older siblings, unsure of our foothold in the world, and exhausted from a lifetime of blood, blades, and battles. Sure, it was selfish of him to just disappear and become a pirate.

But, then again, I’d done something similar.

I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts. No—I hadn’t done anything even remotely close to that. I hadn’t bailed on my family; I was out here trying to save them. Ronan, specifically. I wasn’t ducking my destiny. I was about to meet it headlong and face down the very worst part of myself that had ever existed … otherwise known as Noh.

Judan and I were nothing alike.

Right?

“Uncle Reigh, look!” Maylea spoke up suddenly, grabbing my arm and pointing ahead. There, rocking gently amidst the other ships moored along the farthest edge of the dock, I saw it. The lights in the Fog Dancer’s cabins were lit, glowing brightly in the foggy night. Relief and hope swelled in me, leaving my head throbbing and ears ringing with a sudden rush of heat in my blood. Judan was still here. There was hope, after all. If anyone in this place had any of that healing salve, it was him.

Gods, I just hoped he was willing to barter for it.

* * *

“Well, I can honestly say you two are the last people in the world I wanted to see again so soon.” Judan cast his deadpan gaze between Maylea and me from where he sat behind his desk. He licked his teeth behind his lips, as though trying to resist spitting angry words my way. Instead, he grabbed the neck of a wine bottle and took a few big gulps straight from it. “What do you want, Reigh? Coming here all cloak and dagger in the middle of the night—it had better not be what I think it is.”

Standing in his cabin onboard the Fog Dancer, I crossed my arms and waited for him to take another long drink from that bottle before I even tried explaining myself.

“I’m not here to try to recruit you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said, casting a quick sideways glance at the pair of armed deckhands that stood on either side of us like his personal bodyguards. “Thatcher’s hurt. Badly. He may not make it another day without some medical help.”

Judan’s dark green eyes narrowed. He slowly put his bottle down on the desk in front of him and gave a dismissing gesture to his pair of cronies. They both huffed, muttering under their breath as they shuffled out of the cabin and shut the door behind them. Only once they were gone did Judan’s intense scowl fade some. “Good thing he’s got a trained medical professional to help him, then,” his tone was as curious as it was careful. “Surely you don’t think I’ve got some skill that you don’t in that regard.”

“Not skill,” I corrected. “Supplies. Look, I know you’ve probably heard about what happened with Sulam in the Caldera a few nights ago.”

His mouth twitched a smirk. “So, that was you, after all. I thought it smacked of some Broadfeather nonsense.”

“Right. Well, during all that chaos, Thatcher got ambushed by Sulam’s men,” I continued. “I was barely able to stitch him up, but he’s got an infection and I’m all out of salve. You’re the only person here I can think of who might have some and might care enough about him to hand it over. You don’t like me. I get that. I rub people the wrong way and have all my life. But Thatcher’s a good man, and one of the few I’ve got fighting on my side here. I can’t lose him. Not like this.”

For a few long, uncomfortable seconds, Judan sat still and didn’t say a word. Then he slowly sank back into his chair, making the wood creak a bit under his weight. His lips thinned as he tapped his fingers on his desktop, seeming to think it over before he finally replied, “Reigh, I … I honestly wish I had a different answer for you. But I don’t have any of that healing salve.”

My heart sank, sliding like a hunk of ice down the back of my throat all the way to the pit of my stomach. It left a numbing chill that seemed to seep down all the way to the marrow of my bones. “Do you know where I can get some, then?”

“This far from Luntharda? No. A lot of things make their way through this port. Trade goods from all over the world. But medical supplies from the wild jungle aren’t something that’s in high demand. Not enough to warrant my hearing of it, anyway,” he explained, real concern putting a crease in his brow right between his eyes. He licked his lips and tapped on his desktop again, as though mentally scrambling for some alternative idea.

Then I saw his gaze land squarely on Maylea. Or rather, on the pendant around her neck. And I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Because I’d already considered that option … and now it was the only one we had left.

“I appreciate the honesty,” I said and gave a small bow. “I’ll see what else I can do to help him. Take care, Judan.”

“Reigh,” he called out as Maylea and I both turned to leave. “There’s something you should know.”

We stopped, and I looked back to find him staring daggers at the wine bottle on his desk, almost like he wanted to throw it at the wall in disgust. Or at me. Tough to tell with him.

“Yeah? What is it?” I asked.

“Word around the port is that things in Nar’Haleen’s waters are becoming extremely hostile—more so than ever before. Traders are halting their deliveries through those routes. Those who do try to pass are attacked, looted, and sunk without any warning.” He reached out for the neck of the bottle at last, swirling it and finally looking up to meet my gaze. “There have been reports of the entire navy amassing for a strike on Rienka. A sort of … shock and awe campaign. The city officials here are on edge. They’re checking vessels coming and going thoroughly, looking for spies. They’re fortifying all the garrisons as fast as they can. If you’re planning on leaving this city, I’d advise you to do it as soon as you can.”

Right. Well, the problem with that was I couldn’t go anywhere until I fixed Thatcher. No way was I leaving him behind—especially if this was about to be the site of an all-out naval invasion.

I guess Judan could read that plainly enough in my expression, though, because he gave a hearty chuckle and downed the last of his wine. “Not that you’ve ever been the sort to leave a man behind,” he added quickly. “I suppose I’m living proof of that, eh?”

He had that right, at least. “And what about you? Planning on slipping away from here before the axe drops?” I arched an eyebrow.

His smile broke, fading at the corners until I saw that deep, conflicted look of thought crinkle over his brow again. “Naturally. There’s been some word among the other less reputable businessmen docking in his harbor about what we’d do if Nar’Haleen shows up. All of us would rather see the darkest depths than be forced under the emperor’s heel. But to fight for Rienka? Or for any rear end sitting on any throne? It goes against the grain of most pirate folk to adopt a royal banner—as most were forced into that lifestyle because they were already social pariahs of some manner. Tough to convince society’s unwanteds to rally and save it. My men want to depart as soon as possible, and I don’t intend to force them to stay.”

Fair point. That logic didn’t really apply to Judan, though. He wasn’t an unwanted pariah. He was a prince on the run from a family that undoubtedly wanted and needed him at home. He had parents, Queen Araxie and King Jace of Luntharda, brothers, nieces, nephews, and cousins. He had a lot to go back home to, if he wanted. But instead, he was out here playing around like a kid still trying to find himself.

“Of course, you could always take the coward’s way out and run away again.” I couldn’t resist a thin, ironic smile as I waved a hand and turned back to leave. “But it sounds to me like your time to pick a side has finally come. Too bad Malina took the Squall Queen and left, eh? A ship like that might actually do some damage against Nar’Haleen’s warships. But I doubt she would ever join a fight like that unless someone asked her to.”

Judan’s lips thinned, and his expression sharpened like cold steel as he stared me down. “Are you suggesting I be the one to extend that invitation to her?”

“Not at all.” I smirked and shrugged. “She’d try to kill you on sight, right? I don’t know what went down between you two, and honestly, I don’t care. But it’s not hard to tell that she has no reason in the entire world to want to do any favors for you. All I’m saying is that it’s too bad. We could probably use that brand of help, if we can convince her to join our side. We’ll all be picking sides before this is over. I hope you choose wisely, my friend. Fates keep you until we meet again.”

9

CHAPTER NINE

A warm, restless wind stirred in the port and gusted in my hair as we stepped off the Fog Dancer and back out onto the dockside street. Far in the distance, bolts of lightning flickered and flashed, revealing an encroaching storm front looming beyond the port. Crap. We had to make this fast. Rough waves already rocked at the moored ships and a low rumble of thunder echoed like a soft growl.

The smell of the coming storm filled my lungs and seemed to wash over my whole body. Its raw power practically hummed in the air, hitting my blood like a current of crackling power. It put every nerve on edge as my already frazzled brain scrambled for a new plan. No way were we going to get stuck out in the city to ride out a storm. We had to get back to Violet and the others as soon as possible.

“Uncle Reigh?” Maylea’s whisper was barely audible as she followed close beside me. Before us, the winds had begun to clear away the fog, giving a better view of the streets and alleys that branched off into the city ahead.

“Thatcher’s going to be fine,” I assured her, fairly certain I knew what she was worried about. That meeting hadn’t exactly ended on a happy note. We’d left without any of the salve Thatcher desperately needed. Discouraging? Oh yeah. But I wasn’t out of tricks just yet.

“What can we do? Is there some other medicine that will help him?” she pressed, walking closer at my side and keeping her head down so I couldn’t see her face. I guess she didn’t want me to see her getting emotional about it.

Too bad there was no easy answer to those questions. Were there other medicines? Yes. But none of the local remedies were meant to treat infections as aggressively as the ones from Luntharda. At least, none that I’d found. Maybe there were—but I was a fish out of water when it came to the intricacies of the medical care available in Rienka.

So what could we do? Something I knew most likely went directly against what Jaevid would have wanted for his daughter. But we were running out of options, and Thatcher was running out of time.

It was time to see just how much power Paligno had given her.

I patted Maylea’s shoulder and took in a deep, preparatory breath. “Yes. But fair warning, it may require you to do something you’ve never done before. Something your father absolutely would not approve of.”

She turned her head up just enough to peer at me from under the hood of her cloak, giving me that candid perplexed and slightly suspicious look I’d seen her father give me probably a million times. Right. Well, I had to be vague about the details—for now, anyway. Once we got back to the others, I’d feel a lot better about explaining this to her. There, we stood less chance of prying eyes and ears figuring out who we were and what we were up to.

Honestly, the irony of it all made my stomach roll with a wave of nausea that nearly had me running for the nearest alley to throw up. Many years ago, her father had been the one to force my hand and help me channel my own divine power from Clysiros. He had taught me to harness it in a way I’d never dared to before, and together, we had toppled the empire of one of the most notorious tyrants in history. Now, I needed to teach Maylea to attempt that same thing.

Well. Never let it be said the Fates have no sense of humor.

I hated the idea of hanging our every hope on her very young shoulders, though. Yes, healing was sort of Paligno’s area of expertise, him being the God of Life and whatnot. He usually provided his chosen candidates with healing abilities. Surely that meant Maylea would be capable of that same sort of power now, too, right?

Only one way to find out.

Time to get back—preferably before the storm hit.

I stopped instantly, my pulse thudding hard against my ribs as Maylea gave a sudden, sharp tug on the sleeve of my tunic. Oh no. Crap. Seriously? Right now?

With every sense and muscle on edge, I panned my gaze around the foggy road where we stood. Nothing. No sound. No movement. Not even any lights burning in the shop windows around us.

Hmmm. If anything, it was too quiet.

A familiar little prickle of unease raced up my spine—the same sort of feeling I always got back when I was a scout in the jungles of Luntharda when a predator moved through the area. That sensation of being watched by something bigger and badder that made every hair on my body stand on end.

You know, like when Murdoc glared at me from across the room. Creepy.

“Where?” I whispered, chancing a quick sideways glance down at her.

Maylea stood eerily still, her face now mostly hidden by her hood. “Forty paces back,” she whispered, speaking quickly in the Gray elven language. Clever. It was bound to be less commonly spoken in this part of the world, so anyone listening in might not understand.

“You get a count?” I asked.

“Four.”

I reached down to the belt at my hips and let my fingers brush the hilts of my kafki blades. “Armed?”

“Yep.”

Ugh. Great. This could get messy. But there wasn’t time to second-guess. I had to trust that feeling in my gut telling me to brace for the worst.

“Break off and go quiet. You get aerial but hold your fire. Wait for my cue,” I murmured. “Might be thugs. Might be someone working for Arlan. Might be worse. Let’s see what these guys want.”

“Lethal shots?” I caught the tiniest hint of tension in her voice—uneasiness. Hesitation to kill.

Right. As skilled as she was, Maylea was still relatively new to fighting and killing people, even if they did mean us harm. She’d already gotten her hands bloody on the ships, and I hadn’t exactly had a chance to talk to her about that.

This was bound to make the fallout worse for her.

“That’s your call,” I replied as I stepped ahead of her. “Do what you feel is necessary. But if it’s all the same to you, and it’s obvious that they’re trying to kill me, I’d be much obliged if you didn’t let that happen.”

She made a sarcastic, snorting sound before she cut briskly to the right, vanishing down a small alley like a phantom in the night. No sound. No footsteps. Not a rustle of fabric or click of a boot heel.

Nothing but a quickly fading swirl in the thick white fog.

I smirked as I bowed my head and forged onward, slowing my pace so our pursuers could gain on me. I had to admit, as frustrating as that girl could be, she was handling all this very well so far. She kept a level head even when a battle-hardened dragonrider might buckle. It made me a little proud. Maybe that’s because I’d watched her grow up and trained her in some of those combat techniques.

Or maybe just because, once upon a time, I’d been that kid who ran away from home to prove myself, too.

* * *

When I heard the scrape of a footstep behind me, I quickened my pace. No doubt about it now. I was definitely being followed. With no idea who it might be—the Zenith’s Call, the Hands of Fate, or just a random batch of thugs hoping to rob me—I couldn’t afford to take any chances.

My thoughts went silent as I set my teeth against the swell of adrenaline that made every muscle in my body flex and tingle. That rush of heat in my veins kept every sense on edge, made my heartbeat slow, and my breathing deepen.

Time to work.

I cut to the left down a side street and quickened my pace, then ducked to the right along an alleyway that ran back out to the main road. If they were common thieves, I could lose them easily. But trained assassins? Or even mercenaries? They’d be able to follow.

Ducking around a corner, I put my back to the wall and listened, holding still as my fingers found their way to the hilts of my weapons. A second passed. Then two. Nothing. No sound. No voices.

Then I heard it—the faintest splash, as though someone had stepped in a puddle at the other end of the alley.

I smirked.

Assassins or mercenaries it was, then.

Slowly sinking down, I picked up a small rock from the side of the street and waited. Clothing rustled nearby, probably not even ten feet away from me back inside that alley. They were coming. They’d emerge and find me hiding there any second.

I smirked and hurled the pebble off into the dark on the other side of the street, pinging it off a few barrels with a clatter.

Immediately, someone whispered something in the Sokraal language, more fabric rustled, and three figures ran from the alleyway out into the street to investigate. Heh. Well, looks like Maylea’s count was off, but still … too easy.

They sprinted right past my hiding spot, and I held perfectly still with my back to the side of the building. They never even noticed me or took a second glance in my direction.

As soon as they were across the street, I whirled around and started back down that same alley, the way I’d come, and pulled the hood of my cloak up to hide my hair. That tended to be my biggest giveaway, after all. It made me a lot more recognizable in a crowd.

I doubled back the way I’d come, crossing back out into the side street on the other end of the alley. So far, so good. No sign of them. These had to be Zenith’s Call. The Hands of Fate had gotten a jump on Violet and wounded her, and these guys were nowhere near that level of skill, apparently. I’d have to ask her about it whenever I got back to the—

Something cold and sharp pricked against the side of my neck.

Oh no. I stopped suddenly, staring straight ahead across the small, heavily shadowed intersection before me. Here, four of those side streets met in the gloom. None of the shops or buildings around had lights burning in the windows. There were no signs of life anywhere. Not even the street lamps were lit.

Curse it.

“You are a clever one, I will grant you that,” a heavily accented voice chuckled from behind me. “But not clever enough, it seems. Hands up, if you do not mind, Your Highness.”

What? They knew who I was? Fates, this wasn’t good.

I licked my teeth behind my lips, tasting the coppery flavor of fury fresh on my tongue. “I do mind, actually,” I growled as I slowly turned to see who had a blade to my neck.

The man on the other end of that sleek, glimmering rapier wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. He made no effort to hide his face, wearing a faded blue coat over casual, Rienkan-styled clothes. He stood about my height, maybe a little taller, with his dark brown hair lengthy on top but shaved close to his scalp on one side.

In a swift glance over him, I counted at least two more daggers tucked into the wrap around his waist and what looked suspiciously like one of those exploding metal contraptions Malina had used resting in a leather sheath under his left arm. His chiseled features tugged a half-smile when he spotted me eyeing that weapon. “I see you know what this is,” he tapped the weapon fondly with his free hand, “even though no one uses a blunderbuss in Maldobar.”

I didn’t reply.

His smile faded some, his squared features sobering to a more distrustful, scrutinizing stare. He kept that rapier’s point right at the base of my throat as he clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “And where is your companion? Nearby, I’m certain. Call her out.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Not a chance.” If this guy really meant to kill me, he would have done it already. Clearly this wasn’t about robbing, murdering, or even kidnapping. He had a different angle—one he needed me alive for.

I just had to figure out what that was.

He narrowed his eyes, too. Rubbing at the heavy stubble on his squared jawline, he chuckled under his breath. “I see now what they mean by Maldobarian stubbornness. I am curious, Your Highness, how do you see this ending for you?”

“Usually I carve my way out in a path of blood, gore, and corpses. You could say it’s my specialty,” I muttered, my gaze catching on something tattooed on the top of his hand that held that rapier. It almost looked like the symbol of a sword through a crescent moon. Ahhh, so he was Zenith’s Call.

He stared at me for a moment, eyes wide in shock. Then he bent forward and burst out laughing. “May the gods have mercy, you do speak the truth. Well then, if you will not cooperate, I have no choice.”

I tensed as he stepped in closer, his grip on that rapier tightening and his bemused smile snapping into a maddened scowl. He opened his mouth, probably to threaten me, but he never got a word out. Something zipped through the air and hit the slender blade of his weapon, knocking it away from me.

Instantly, I stepped in, ramming my fist into his stomach as hard as I could. He barked a wheezing breath and doubled over, and I seized his wrist to try and disarm him.

The man moved faster, though. I spat a curse as he whirled back, hitting me upside the jaw with his elbow and sending me reeling back. He grabbed my arm and twisted it back, ducking down and using me like a human shield from Maylea’s aerial assault. With the steel of that blade back against my throat, I stiffened and cursed through my teeth. Fates, he was fast. Maybe even as fast as Murdoc.

“Now then, let us try this again,” he snarled right against my ear, gripping me so tight I felt the slow, burning pain of my shoulder starting to dislocate. Gods, he was strong. I couldn’t even twist my body to relieve that pressure. “I have not come to kill either of you tonight, but I very well may slip and make a terrible mistake. Call the girl down or I will have my men do it by force. Do we understand one another, Your Highness? Or did you assume I only brought a small force to take you in?”

I growled a few Gray elven profanities as I gave one more desperate pitch against his hold. “If you think I’m calling anyone down right into your hands, you’re dreaming. You’ll have to kill me, because I can assure you, I’ve been tortured by the best already. It won’t work. I don’t compromise. I don’t cooperate. I’m a dragonrider of Maldobar, and I’ll take you to the abyss right along with me before I betray my companions.”

A faint scuffle from another alleyway to my right made me turn, just in time to see the other three individuals who had been chasing me earlier. Two had crossbows drawn and leveled at me. The third held a shortsword in each hand. Crap.

I had no doubts that Maylea could have killed all of them. She was an excellent marksman with a bow. She probably could have even killed the guy holding me. But she’d never dealt with a hostage situation before. I had no idea how she would react to a situation like this, but I absolutely did not want her firing off high-risk shots if she was second-guessing herself.

Not with my head so close to her target.

“What do you want from me?” I demanded, still growling every word through gritted teeth. “No one will ransom me here. You know that.”

“I do,” he seethed. “I did not come to abduct you. The Mistress of the Call wishes an audience with you.”

What? Mistress of the Call? What did that even mean? Was I supposed to know who that was?

“Your little Pitathi friend has tried to contact us many times, but your dealings with Sulam have not gone unnoticed. Tell me, prince, did Kinslayer send you here to eradicate him?” the man questioned. “The Mistress wants to know, and so you will answer to her.”

My mind spun, piecing together what, exactly, was happening here. I could only assume that this Mistress of the Call was some sort of leadership figure to the Zenith’s Call. She’d obviously heard about what happened with Sulam in his arena. Since he was also a member of this organization, they must want answers. That’s why they weren’t giving Violet the time of day now, since they knew she worked directly for Arlan.

Great. Now I’d basically become a middleman between international crime factions. Fantastic. Super qualified for that. But maybe, if I played my cards right, I could make this situation work for our benefit. After all, Violet had been trying to contact these people for days without any response. We needed their help to get our mission back on track. We needed resources. A way across the desert. Hopefully, I could negotiate some of that.

Uggh. Gods and Fates, why did stuff like this always happen to me?

“Fine,” I agreed. “Let me go, and I’ll talk to this Mistress. But I think she’s going to be pretty disappointed when she hears what my motives are.”

I could hear the sly grin in his voice without having to see it as he suddenly gave me a shove forward and snapped his fingers to his men, ordering them to drop their weapons. “Oh, I very much doubt that, Your Highness. I’m sure she will be extremely interested in whatever has brought a Maldobarian prince and dragonrider to our lovely doorstep. Now, call off your girl. We must move quickly, lest we alert the city guards.”

10

CHAPTER TEN

The rapier-wielding man looked genuinely surprised when a fourteen-year-old girl strode proudly from the shadows, the stormy wind blowing through her hair as she carried her Lunthardan-styled bow and glared at him defiantly. I had to give her credit, Maylea kept a cool head under pressure. She didn’t even bat a lash as she prowled through his line of armed mercenaries, each one glaring at her like a pack of ravenous jackals.

The man glanced her up and down, eyebrows raised, and finally spoke. “Well now. Not quite what I was expecting. How old are you, girl?”

“Old enough to know where every one of your major arteries are and ten ways to sever them before you know what’s happened,” she snapped.

I had to bite back a smile. Murdoc might have even cracked a grin at that—since he was the one who’d taught her all that.

“And my name is Maylea, not girl, thank you very much.” She crossed her arms as she stopped right next to me. “Who are you?”

It seemed to take the man a moment to recover after that answer. He blinked a few times like she’d slapped him across the face. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he shook his head and turned away. “Varren, at your service,” he muttered sourly and gave another signal to his men. “Come. We must be swift. I do so enjoy standing around in dark alleys in the middle of the night, but I’d prefer not to be caught outside when the storm hits.”

I had to agree. Giving Maylea a reassuring nod, I walked ahead right behind Varren as he led the way through the darkened streets. Somewhere along the way, two of his three companions broke off to take separate paths, while the last one kept right at our heels. None of them spoke, however, and I wasn’t feeling especially chatty either.

Mentally, I had enough to chew on. This meeting with the so-called Mistress of the Call, might be the ticket we’d be hoping for. I had to keep a cool head and trust that if she really had any ill-will for us, we would be dead already. Then again, maybe she only had dislike for Violet because of who her employer was? Hard to say.

This could get tricky. I’d have to watch my mouth more closely than usual.

And apparently Maylea’s, too. Good grief.

Making our way along an indirect route, keeping to alleys and side streets that weren’t as well-lit as the main avenues, Varren guided us back toward the docks. There, he finally stopped at the entrance to what looked like an old sailor’s tavern and inn that stood only one street back from the dockside. The narrow building seemed to be squished between the ones on either side, like ham mashed into the middle of a sandwich. The clay tiled roof was slumped in the middle, and I couldn’t see any signs or insignia anywhere that gave the place a name. Just a big carved statue of a, uh, mostly naked woman with the bottom half of a fish. A siren?

The smell of sour ale, sweat, and stale wine hit me like a hammer as we stepped inside. I cringed, squinting as my eyes watered a little from the thick cloud of pipe smoke that hung in the air like fog over a swamp. The place was packed from front to back with sailors, dockhands, and fishermen. They sat in big crowds at the round tables, playing cards, puffing on long pipes, and swapping stories with loud bursts of laughter. None of them even looked up as we ducked inside.

Varren led us behind the bar, giving a small nod to the bartender—an old man with more hair in his beard than on his head. He didn’t seem all that bothered by us, either, and went on filling a round of ale horns without even glancing our way.

“Mark the door,” Varren ordered to his one remaining man still following us from a few paces behind. “Just in case that little Pitathi decides to cause more trouble, eh?”

My pulse gave a hard, burning thump at the words. Or, well, one in particular. Now that I actually knew what Pitathi meant, hearing people call Violet that made a sudden spark of anger crackle and catch in my chest. Not that she needed any help defending her own honor, but I didn’t like it one bit. It made me wonder what, exactly, her people had done to be referred to with such obvious disgust by everyone else. Even Violet hadn’t seemed all that … proud of her lineage.

I’d have to sort all that out later, though.

Ahead, Varren guided us to the back of the tavern’s kitchen and into a storage room. There, under a hatch on the floor, he stepped quickly down a narrow stairwell into a cellar. Huge wooden casks of ale and wine lined the walls from floor to ceiling, kept cool by the natural stone and subterranean air. He walked the line of wine casks, each one so big five people could fit inside, until he came to the last one.

A cask with the symbol of a crescent moon and sword burned into the front of the wooden spigot.

Varren reached for it and gave the spigot a twist, like a door handle, and closed his eyes. He gave a deep, weighty sigh that made his shoulders rise and fall—almost like he was mentally preparing himself for what came next. Then he glanced my way with a worried frown. “You might consider showing a little respect. The Mistress is less forgiving than I when it comes to that endearing Maldobarian stubbornness of yours.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your boss?”

“Yes, well, you might find this hard to believe, given how we met, but I rather dislike resorting to violence or having any part in it,” he quipped. “It happens, of course, in this line of work. One can’t always be diplomatic. But based on my keen observations of your little ragtag group, I would hate to see something else unfortunate befall you now. I believe you’ll want to entertain what the Mistress has to say.”

“Noted,” I answered, keeping my voice low as I looked away. So this guy had been watching us? I guess that meant he knew we were in a bad spot with Thatcher. Great. Nothing like having your possible enemy aware of your greatest vulnerabilities, right? I’d have to tread carefully or this could get messy.

Varren turned the cask’s spigot a little farther until something on the inside gave a heavy, metallic clunk. The whole front opened like a massive round door, creaking on hidden hinges. Within, instead of a huge barrel of wine, another staircase led down even deeper underground.

Whoa.

Maylea and I swapped a wary sideways glance.

There’d be no speedy retreat or easy escape from this place if things went sour. We were literally stepping into a lion’s den.

“Eyes and ears open,” I warned her in a whisper before I followed Varren down that staircase. “Let me do the talking, but I need you to make sure they aren’t trying to pull a fast one on us while I’ve got my back turned.”

“Uncle Reigh … I don’t think Violet would want us doing this without her,” Maylea whispered back.

I flinched and started forward, ducking down in the dark staircase with my heart already pounding in the back of my throat. “Yeah,” I mumbled under my breath. “For the record, I don’t like it, either.”

* * *

The soft clinking of glass and gentle plucking of a stringed instrument floated up from the base of the stairs. With every step down from the tavern, the stench of the sour ale and cheap wine faded, giving way to something far sweeter. Was that perfume? Or flowers?

Passing through a beaded curtain strung over the doorway at the base of the stairs, I hesitated as I took in the lavish room. The space was lit by intricate, colored glass oil lamps and flickering candles that hung from the ceiling. The smell of burning incense hung thick in the cool air like a soothing balm. Strange. This wasn’t at all what I’d imagined a den of secretive mercenaries might look like. Were we even in the right place?

Portions of the spacious room had been sectioned off into smaller, private areas that were partitioned by beautifully stitched silk screens of gold, green, and purple. The people sitting within them were gathered around low tables, seated on velvet cushions, and sipped from small silver cups as they exchanged hushed conversations. They stared as we passed, their discussions going suddenly silent. I spotted humans, elves, and folk with far stranger features that I couldn’t even begin to place. Some held long ivory smoking pipes, or were dealing out hands of gold-foiled cards for some sort of game.

Interesting.

None of them were carrying weapons that I could see. In fact, these didn’t even look like mercenaries. More like upper class merchants, wealthy smugglers, or individuals who had made a lot of money in unsavory ways. Arlan’s sort, I guess.

Maybe all the actual mercenaries were mixed in the rowdier crowd upstairs? I guess it made sense for this Mistress person not to want to associate too closely with cutthroats and thugs. Arlan only kept a few of his agents close at hand—Garnett, Violet, and Howlan. Well, that I knew of, anyway.

I wondered if Varren had that sort of “inner-circle” contact with the Mistress, too.

He walked ahead of us down the length of the room, past all those sectioned off nooks, and a spot on the end where a beautiful Rienkan elf woman dressed in flowing silk robes and strings of purple gems sat on an intricate woven rug. She cradled a large stringed instrument in her arms, almost like a harp, with her fingertips brushing gingerly over the strings. It filled the room with a light, calming melody. She didn’t look up as we passed, though.

The largest sectioned-off area stood at the very back, beyond a hanging curtain and huge partitioned panels of golden thread. Images of the ocean, of fish, corals, crabs, and flowering water reeds were embroidered onto them. Pausing before the curtained entrance, Varren turned back and murmured, “Wait here. I’ll announce you.”

Uhh. Right. Okay, then.

Maylea and I stood in awkward silence as he ducked through the curtain into the area beyond, and I took that opportunity to examine things more closely. From here, I couldn’t see any other exit points from this place. But there might have been a doorway or something hidden behind one of these paneled-off areas. Letting my gaze track along the walls, I picked the shapes of towering figures dressed completely in black—black tunics, pants, and black leather armor—standing every ten paces. Bodyguards. I could spot ten from this vantage point, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others hiding in the shadows.

If this didn’t go well, our chances of getting out of here in one piece … were not great.

“The Mistress will see you now,” Varren stuck his head around the curtain and announced. He waved us in, and I took a slow, preparatory breath. Too bad it didn’t stop my hands from shaking. Gods, what I wouldn’t give for Jae to be here right now. He’d always been better at these kinds of things. Negotiating. Finding a way out of an impossible situation.

I guess I’d have to learn to pick up the slack.

Ducking beyond the curtain, Maylea and I followed Varren into the spacious chamber. Layers of exotic animal hides and richly woven wool rugs covered the floor, creating a patchwork walkway up to a raised platform where a low, dark wood table crouched on feet carved to look like animal claws. More bodyguards dressed in their black, finely stitched leather armor stood on either side of the door, hoods pulled so low I couldn’t see much of their faces. I could see the hand crossbows and weapons secured to their belts clearly enough, though. It sent a little quiver of anxiety through my gut.

But nothing could have prepared me for … her.

The Mistress of the Call.

Seated at the end on a large cushion, an extremely elderly woman with frosty white hair and skin set in a deep bronze from years of the seaside sun sat stiff and straight. Unlike her black-clad bodyguards, she was dressed in fine, high-collared robes of layered, ornately embroidered satin that were all arranged on her tiny frame with extreme precision. There was a large, jewel-encrusted pin tucked into the braided bun on the back of her head, and long earrings made of strings of precious stones hanging down to brush at her shoulders.

“Thank you, Verran. You are dismissed,” she said, her tone sharp and direct. She never even looked up from where she was busily scribbling on a sheet of parchment with a purple-feathered quill.

Verran looked like his legs might buckle with relief, but he offered a quick, almost apologetic smile in my direction before he bowed and saw himself out without a word.

Uh oh. This couldn’t be a good sign.

For a few tense, painfully awkward moments no one said a word or made a sound. I shifted some, wondering once again what Jae would have done in a situation like this. Interrupting didn’t seem like a good idea, but I didn’t have all night to stand here waiting for her to—

“Brash and brave. Daring and dangerous. Fierce hearts and tempers like a dragon. They say such things about Maldobarians. But you are the first I have met from their royal house,” the Mistress said without even glancing my way. “Somehow … I had imagined you would be taller.”

Wow. Seriously? I wasn’t short. Average compared to someone like Thatcher, sure, but I still stood a good five foot and ten inches. Not short.

I crossed my arms and looked down, sucking my teeth to keep from firing back at her about how I’d been expecting someone maybe a third her age. Polite—I had to be polite. No mouthing off. I needed this woman’s help. Just had to tap into that inner calm. Tranquil thoughts. Nice words.

Whew. I could do this.

I forced a chuckle that probably sounded more like a cough. “Yeah, well, my sister got all the looks and my brother got all the height.” Uggh. Gods. I’d definitely need a drink after this was over. “Sorry, you’re dealing with the family leftovers, I’m afraid.”

Nice—that was nice, right? Casual and friendly? So why was Maylea gaping at me like I’d just sprouted a second head?

“Take heart, young prince, I did not bring you here to play mind games or bait you on. I will be direct, as I’m sure you are also aware that time is against us. I hope we can have a very candid conversation,” she said and made a final mark on the paper before finally putting her quill down. Leaning forward on her big silk cushion, she turned and clasped her hands on her knee. The Mistress of the Call studied both of us one at a time, as though silently reading our thoughts. The lines around her eyes and mouth were set deep with age, and yet there was no mistaking that predatory sharpness in her eyes.

I’d seen that look before from a tigrex as it prowled the jungles of Luntharda on the hunt. An apex predator. The top of the food chain.

And I was the faundra fawn caught out in the open.

11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I know that Arlan the Kinslayer sent you here,” she announced, her tone smooth and calm. “And I know what has become of Sulam. What I must know is whether or not eliminating him was the reason you were sent here.”

“No,” I answered flatly. She was right—we were out of time, and it didn’t make any sense to go dancing around the truth. “He abducted two of our party and nearly killed a third. What happened to him later was … the result of poking the dragon, if you will. I’m sure you can appreciate that I’m a fish out of water here. I don’t claim to know all the intricacies of the social dynamics in this region. But I do know, from Sulam’s own mouth, that his motives for attacking us were because he didn’t want us, or anyone Arlan the Kinslayer employs, doing business in his territory.”

One corner of her mouth curled upward into a wry grin that made her dark eyes twinkle. “I see.”

Now, I just had to hope Sulam wasn’t her favorite pet or partner. Surely not, right? Otherwise, Violet wouldn’t have bothered trying to contact them at all.

“Our intention was to sail to Nar’Haleen, not to harbor here. But a storm damaged our ship and we were forced to make port,” I continued, while silently praying Violet wouldn’t flay me alive for telling this woman everything I knew. “Sulam made it clear he expected a toll to be paid for being here. I don’t know if that’s the way business is done here, but my partner—who is a lot more affluent in your culture—didn’t seem to think so.”

“You speak of the Pitathi woman?” the old woman asked, arching one of her sparse, white eyebrows.

There it was again. That word. My pulse gave that hard kick in my chest again and before I could stop myself, I barked back, “Her name is Violet.”

Oops. Gods and Fate, my stupid mouth! Arrrgh!

The Mistress’s eyes narrowed slightly, the light catching off the lenses of her spectacles as that half-smirk of hers seemed to widen a little. “I am familiar with her.”

I took a few, calming breaths and tried to recollect my sanity before I dared to say anything else. “We tried explaining things to Sulam, but he didn’t want to hear it. Next thing we knew, it was a bloodbath. Trust me, we did not come here to start a turf war on foreign soil.”

“And yet … you will soon be embroiled in one.” The Mistress’s tone was quiet and thoughtful. She leaned back in her cushion, seeming to relax. “Sulam has long been a thorn in the side of this organization. He had become a liability. We are not surprised to see that his greed and foolishness led him to such a fate. The Zenith’s Call would like to extend its sincerest condolences for what you have suffered at his hand. We do not endorse anything that was done by him in our name, and in the spirit of directness, we are not troubled to see him gone.”

Oh. Well. That was good news.

“That said, we are likewise unsettled to hear that Arlan the Kinslayer is moving his agents toward Nar’Haleen. Especially given the nature of the tensions between our countries,” she added quickly.

I sagged forward slightly, unable to stop my shoulders from drooping. This was definitely a conversation Violet would have wanted to be a part of. He was her boss, after all. This was her area of expertise. “Look, I don’t know how much I’m allowed to divulge here. But I do know that Arlan’s interest in Nar’Haleen has nothing to do with the war. You probably already know about the attack on the Compendium Library. We were dispatched to retrieve a few items that were being kept there.” I decided not to tell her that one of those items in question happened to be my nephew, the crown Prince of Maldobar. That felt a little too personal for a crime lord I’d only just met.

The old woman’s mouth pressed into a thin, dissatisfied line. Almost like she knew I was holding out on her. But if she could somehow sense it, she didn’t push the issue. “And you still intend to go to Nar’Haleen to see this matter through?”

I nodded. “As soon as I can get my group put back together, we’re outta here.”

Tilting her chin upward ever so slightly, she looked again at Maylea through the lenses of her spectacles. “You’ve come well-armed, and with no shortage of talent at your disposal. My agents tell me you travel with Violet, a Rajinna boy, another dragonrider, and this one …” Another coy smile brushed her sagging features for an instant and she leaned forward again, seeming genuinely curious. “But no one can seem to place who, or what, this young girl is.”

Silence.

Maylea cast me a semi-panicked sideways glance, and I motioned for her to speak. After all, she’d already proven she could introduce herself well enough to these people.

Her throat jumped as she swallowed, and her grip on her bow tightened. “I am Maylea Broadfeather, eldest daughter of Jaevid Broadfeather of Maldobar.”

The old woman’s smile vanished, instantly morphing into something like quiet awe. She sat straight and stared, not making a sound, with her mouth open. Then, at last, the Mistress made a gesture to one of her bodyguards.

Oh … oh crap. No!

Immediately, every muscle in my body went solid. Every nerve, every reflex, came alive like I’d been struck by lightning.

But the bodyguard didn’t draw a weapon. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled something from his belt. I had to squint through the gloom just to be sure. Was that … a flask?

The bodyguard handed it off to the Mistress without comment, and she sat looking it over for a moment before finally stretching out her hand and offering it to Maylea. “May the God of Life deal kindly with us. You carry his light, do you not?”

Maylea opened her mouth and seemed to hesitate, almost like she wasn’t sure what to say or do. Little by little, she hedged closer to the old woman and gingerly took the flask from her. “I-I am his Paladin.”

“Then may the Fates guard you and those who walk with you,” the Mistress said, catching Maylea’s wrist before she could pull away. “Remember well who has helped you. Show them mercy, if you can.”

Maylea bobbed her head a little and managed a wincing, uncertain smile. “I’ll try.” She quickly stepped back to my side, gripping the beautiful silver flask so hard it turned her knuckles white.

“Within that flask, you will find recompense for Sulam’s foolishness. I know you have been searching for healing remedies that might aid your wounded companion. The contents are the carefully rendered and purified nectar of the Thornwine flower. It is a highly potent healing draught that might even rival the effects of your Lunthardan remedies. It can counter even the venom of a switchbeast,” the Mistress advised. “Take care, for such a thing is worth a hefty sum, and there are many who might even kill for it.”

“O-Oh, um, thank you,” Maylea stammered, now handling the flask like it might suddenly explode. She carefully tucked it into her own belt and hid it with her cloak, then managed a less-terrified smile back at the woman.

“Now, then. To our next order of business,” the old woman said with a pleased smile.

Wait—next order? What was there left to say? Or do?

Unless …

“Your woman, Violet, has reached out wanting to secure safe passage through the desert to Nar’Haleen. I believe we can accommodate that. However, we would require a favor in return.”

Every wheel in my head suddenly locked up solid. My woman? No, she wasn’t—I mean, we weren’t, you know, like that. At all. Why would she even think that? Because I’d asked her not to call her by what was essentially a slur name?

“W-We … we don’t exactly have a lot of resources at our disposal, and, uh …” Great. Now I was the one stammering. Super professional.

“Do not worry, you have everything you need,” she assured, that coy smile tugging at one corner of her mouth again, as though she found me somehow pathetically endearing.

Like I was just a sniveling little kid trying not to wet himself during a wedding ceremony. Gods, spare me.

“I believe, in this instance, we can help one another achieve exactly what we want, Your Highness. We have a means of safe passage across the desert to the library you seek.” Her smile became cryptic, and it sent a little thrill of uneasiness through my stomach like I was about to jump off something far too high. “And you … have a dragon.”

* * *

“You did WHAT?” Violet spun on me like an angry raccoon ready to claw my eyes out. She stormed at me from across our tiny, rented room with her hands already clenched into fists and wrath like cinders crackling in her eyes. “You made a deal with the Zenith’s Call?! Why, by all the gods, would you even consider doing something like that without—!”

“HEY!” I shouted over her, throwing my hands up in surrender. I at least wanted the opportunity to explain myself before she ripped my head off. “Look, there wasn’t time to run it by you or anyone else. It’s not like I set out to have a secret meeting with them—they practically abducted us! I was in an underground vault staring at a dozen armed guards with no way to even send word to you about what was happening. So yeah, I had to make a choice, and as far as I can tell, this is the best option as opposed to both of us getting shot full of arrows and butchered like spring lambs.”

Violet’s lips pursed up, her head slowly shaking from side to side as though she were mentally warring with herself over whether she should hit me, choke me, or stab me to death.

“Listen, it’s … it’s not a bad deal, okay? They’ve got a caravan of people they’re trying to get out of the area before the Nar’Haleenan navy shows up and tries blowing this place back to the gods’ doorstep, and they need hired swords to protect it. Simple. It gets us where we need to go, and gives us the benefit of cover traveling with a group of refugees so maybe we don’t stick out like a big fat juicy target in the middle of the sand dunes for Sadeera’s people to find.”

“Political refugees,” Violet hissed through her teeth, jabbing a finger at me as her cheeks flushed almost as red as her eyes. “Why else would they specifically want a dragon as a deterrent? We’re not talking about simple farmers and city folk just trying to flee to safety. These are people that the Nar’Haleenan military will be looking for and wanting to murder. And last I checked, people like that would make us even more of a target—not less—you thickheaded, impulsive idiot!”

Oh? So now we were calling names?

Fine. I didn’t have to put up with this.

“You were the one who wanted their help to begin with,” I growled low and leaned down so that we were nose-to-nose. “I realize I was no one’s first choice for this mission. I’m not Jaevid Broadfeather, the great, powerful, wise, and charming. Sorry. But I’m the best you’ve got. If you don’t like this arrangement, then feel free to go back to the Mistress and re-negotiate the terms yourself.”

Done. That was it. I didn’t have anything else to say to her about it. No way was I about to stand there and have a back-and-forth yelling match with her in front of the rest of our group. Out of the corner of my eye, I could already see Maylea and Lukani looking awkwardly away, like two kids sitting at the dinner table trying not to stare while their parents had a spat.

Ugggh.

Spinning on a heel, I stormed outside and slammed the door behind me. I needed some air. Just a few minutes to cool off. Then I could go back in and look after Thatcher. If that Mistress woman was telling the truth about that potion, we’d be able to get him back on his feet and put this place behind us by tomorrow evening. I could get things pulled together, and maybe salvage this absolute wreck of a mission. Ronan was counting on me. Everyone at home was, too.

I couldn’t fail.

Er, well, unless Violet killed me in my sleep tonight. That would certainly qualify as failure.

Dropping down on my rear end at the edge of our room’s small front patio, I let my elbows rest on my knees and gave a long, heavy sigh. Rain poured and lashed at the stone street before me and wind howled through the twisting streets. I couldn’t tell how close we were to dawn, but it must’ve nearly been twilight by now. With all those churning, stormy clouds choking out the rising of the sun, however, there was no way to be sure. Thunder cracked and rolled, like heavy stones rumbling down a wooden ramp overhead. For whatever reason, that sound took me straight back to Maldobar. We had storms like this all the time in the spring. I wondered what Jaevid and the others were doing right now. I wondered if Isa had gotten my letter yet, and if anyone had finally told Jenna what was going on with Ronan.

I wondered if she or my brother had even noticed I was gone.

I rubbed at my forehead. Gods and Fates, I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. I couldn’t keep letting my mind circle to thoughts like that. Even if they hadn’t noticed, it was really for the better. The less they knew about this mission, the less likely Jenna was to fly off the handle and send her entire military here and kick off another international war between kingdoms.

Calm thoughts. Happy thoughts. I had to have a few rolling around in my head somewhere, right?

I scratched at the stubble coming in thicker on my chin. I’d have to find a chance to shave soon. Maybe today.

I let out a curse suddenly as the sensation of something like needles pricking up my back and onto my shoulder made me flinch. Vexi perched right next to my head, her tiny wings and tail tucked close to her body, and her side against my neck. She made tiny purring, chittering sounds as she began to lick and groom at my hair. I winced as she nibbled at my ear, and I reached over to pat her head with a fingertip.

“I have a feeling that, given your current state, you aren’t exactly what the Zenith’s Call is banking on when they want a dragon security guard,” I chuckled. “I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.”

Vexi turned her attention to preening her scales, still purring happily where she sat on my shoulder like a small, scaly chicken on a roost.

“You won’t be small for much longer, though,” I murmured. “Arlan said his spell would only last for about fourteen days. If I’m counting right, that doesn’t give us much time left, and it’d probably be good to get out of the city before that happens. We don’t need that kind of attention, especially if Nar’Haleen is about to drop the hammer on this place.”

“Y-You … always talk to yourself … wh-when you’re upset,” Thatcher’s thin, halting voice spoke up from behind me.

I looked back to find him leaning in the doorway, sweat soaked and ashen-faced. The circles under his eyes had gotten bigger and darker, and he gripped the doorframe like he was trying not to collapse right where he stood.

Gods. What was he even doing out here? He was supposed to be resting. Maybe my argument with Violet had woken him up. Either way, I needed to get to work fixing him up before he got any worse. “Go lie back down. I’ve got something that should get you back up to fighting in no time.”

“I-I know,” he rasped. “Maylea s-said they g-gave you … some medicine.” He hobbled forward, pushing away from the door. He barely managed to limp the distance to where I sat and dropped down right beside me. “Y-You really … think we’re all comparing you to Jaevid?”

Great. This had a heartfelt Thatcher-speech about acceptance written all over it. He’d gotten obnoxiously good at those over the years.

I glared away and worked my jaw to one side without answering.

“I-I think … you’re the only one … comparing y-yourself to him,” Thatcher said, his voice catching as he winced and wrapped an arm protectively around his torso. That wound must’ve been killing him. So why was he doing this? Coming out here to talk to me when he should’ve had his butt in there resting?

Oh. Right. Because this was Thatcher we were talking about. Big, dumb, overly caring idiot. He was like a living stuffed animal sometimes.

“I’ve always been compared to him,” I grumbled as I kept my face angled away, not wanting him to get the satisfaction of seeing the emotions pull at my expressions. “From the very beginning. When my divine power as the Harbinger first manifested, everyone assumed I was his reincarnation or something. They expected me to walk in his footsteps, but the best I could ever do was just stand in his shadow. Oh, I know he wouldn’t agree. He doesn’t see himself that way. Never has. But Jaevid Broadfeather, savior of the world and champion of the dragonriders, is a hard act to follow—especially for a third-born son with no prospects beyond burning out my days as an instructor at the academy.”

“Wh-What about the guy who defeated Iksoli?” he asked.

“That was you, not me,” I reminded him.

“Well … it was y-your mission.”

“You and Murdoc were fighting Iksoli. I was doing inventory in Argonox’s treasure plunder—remember?” I sighed and shook my head. “I get what you’re trying to say, though. And I appreciate it. But it feels like I’ve spent my whole life chasing someone else’s coattails. Trying to be something. To be enough. And I guess … I’m coming to terms with the fact that there might not be a glorious, it-was-all-worth-it moment for me waiting at the finish line.”

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder. I looked over to find Thatcher’s sickly pale face grinning at me like he wasn’t about to drop dead from an internal infection. “You are enough, Reigh. You’ve always b-been enough, just as you are. I’ll f-follow you to the ends of the e-earth. You know that.”

“And when I screw it all up? What then? You know my success record isn’t exactly stellar when it comes to missions and things going according to plan.”

“Then we’ll screw it up t-together,” he gave another broken, flinching laugh that made his whole body seize with pain. “That’s the best part of doing great things with the people we care about—we’re not alone with the victories … or the mistakes. W-We’re in it together, side-by-side, to the bitter end.”

I didn’t say it, but I was beginning to worry about that bitter end part. My mind whirled back to the thought of that grotto. Of reuniting with Clysiros. Of making another deal with her. Gods and goddesses never gave power away for free. There was always a price.

I just hoped I had enough to pay the tab this time.

“Fine, fine. Whatever,” I grumbled and shrugged his hand off. “Enough with the mushy friendship speeches. I’m gonna be really pissed if you sit here and die on this porch because you wouldn’t get back inside.” With a grunt of effort, I looped an arm under his shoulder and helped him get back on his feet. “Let’s go see if this potion works as well as promised.”

PART THREE

CLARKE

12

CHAPTER TWELVE

““We cannot stay down here forever,” Noa said quietly. The flames of our small campfire danced in his turquoise eyes as he sat cross-legged beside me, twisting the bone-carved ring he wore on his thumb.

He was right. It had almost been a full two days since we were abducted by goblins and trapped down here, somewhere in the depths of a long-forgotten temple. At first, I had assumed that finding this place hidden away within the caverns, would mean we would easily be able to find a passage outside. I mean, it was a temple, wasn’t it? Temples generally had doors. I’d lived in a secret library built into a cavern system, and even we had multiple doors in and out.

The problem was that this particular temple happened to be enormous, fused with ancient sea caves, and seriously lacking in emergency exits. We had already tried exploring some of the surrounding passages, looking for a way out. Since he could see the best in the pitch darkness, Traegan had even gone off exploring on his own to see what he could find, although he admitted he didn’t feel comfortable going too far in case he couldn’t find his way back to us. In the end, he hadn’t found anything except more tunnels adorned in ancient carvings, statues, and ceremonial rooms.

No doors.

No way out.

“We won’t,” our new dwarven companion, Traegan, groaned. “We’ll starve to death long before forever comes.”

Noa shot him an exasperated glare, but didn’t reply. I didn’t know what issue he had with our most recent friend—if he disliked dwarves in general, or if he just found Traegan particularly annoying. Either way, Noa’s patience was getting thinner by the hour, even if Traegan himself didn’t seem fazed by it at all.

I sighed and looked up at the massive circular opening far above us in the ceiling of the grand chamber. It wasn’t an exit. More like a skylight. And it was far too high for any of us to reach even with the little bit of rope we had. Somehow, sitting there with that clear view of freedom looming right over our heads, it almost felt like the universe was taunting us. So close, and yet so far.

“Why do you suppose they put a big hole up there like that? Wouldn’t it let rain in?” I mused, thinking out loud more than anything else.

“Probably for sunlight,” Noa guessed. “Or moonlight.”

Traegan made a thoughtful noise of agreement. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this place wasn’t a temple at all. Seems more like a tomb, eh?”

“We haven’t seen any remains or corpses,” Noa countered.

“True,” Traegan shrugged. “Plenty of altars and sculptures of the gods, though. Hard to imagine a place like this was just lost to time. It’s almost like it was intentional. Like someone didn’t want it to be found again.”

I sat up suddenly, my eyes going wide as I stared up at that massive, circular opening like a window over our heads. What if … what if they were both right? Why would they put an opening like that, right here? What was it meant to shed light on?

I looked down, my gaze following the beam of soft moonlight that ebbed down from the opening all the way to the mosaic on the floor. The one right between the statues of those winged, almost elven-looking figures. The mosaic of Avgior, the first Fate.

Shambling to my feet, I walked slowly toward that mosaic again. I’d uncovered most of it earlier, when I first discovered it in the center of all those statues. But I hadn’t thought much about it since. Avgior was sort of an enigmatic figure in the divine lore I’d read. He was largely considered to be an evil god, who had sided against many of the other gods in the War of the Stones. He was known to be a harsh judge, quick to anger, and had no love or compassion for the mortals of the world whose hearts he found afflicted with wickedness. But ultimately, he had been killed. Er, well, as much as a god could be killed, anyway.

There were lots of theories about what had happened to him after. The most common belief, and the one I’d read over and over in the library’s many historical texts, said that Avgior’s essence had been split into a thousand pieces and scattered to the far corners of the world, so that he might never manifest again.

But was that really true? What did that even mean? Was his essence something tangible or was it purely spiritual?

When it came to the gods, things like that could be so fluid and fickle. Scholars didn’t even like to speculate, for fear that speaking his name might somehow draw the gaze of that ominous, all-knowing eye that tended to be his symbol of power. Nonsense, of course. Even if the gods did exist, it was ridiculous to think that just speaking someone’s name would conjure them up, wasn’t it?

I glanced between the opening and the mosaic. It couldn’t be coincidence, could it? That the full moon tonight cast a perfect circle of sterling light down over the mosaic, making all the precious stones and bits of gold glitter. The hidden door we’d used to get into this place had the symbol of Avgior’s eye, too. It’s as though … this whole place was dedicated to him.

But who would build a temple to a dead and vengeful god? And why would they hide it away?

I could only think of one reason, and it chilled me straight down to the marrow of my bones.

I swallowed hard. Something cold prickled up my spine, along the back of my neck, and all through my chest. Traegan had said that same symbol had appeared on my forehead before. And then there was … the book. The voice in my head. All it had said was “awaken.”

What did that even mean? Awaken what?

It couldn’t just be a coincidence that I had somehow opened that door that let us in here. Something was drawing me to this place. Something that seemed to be able to control me in those moments. Or at the very least, compel me to do things I normally wouldn’t do and see things others couldn’t.

Could this be what was really wrong with me? The reason I had a … reading problem? The reason I couldn’t forget anything?

“Clarke? What’s wrong?” Noa appeared next to me, his expression creased with concern.

“I … think we’ve been looking for the wrong thing,” I said, bending down to brush my fingers over the mosaic again.

Noa’s worried frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

My hand shook as I slowly reached up to slide my glasses off, keeping my eyes closed as my heartbeat raced wildly. I knew what would happen when I opened them. I would see—I’d remember—everything.

And here, that might be dangerous.

“We’ve been looking for a door,” I reasoned aloud, the words leaving my lips like a faltering whisper. “But I think … we already found one.”

“What do you mean?” Noa’s tone had gone stern with disapproval. He knew what it meant when I didn’t wear my glasses. Or rather, he had seen the strange things that happened whenever I took them off.

But if he said anything else, I couldn’t tell.

I opened my eyes, and the whispers flooded my mind like a stormy ocean’s swell, obliterating all my senses and drowning out everything else.

Lock and Key,

The gate shall hold.

The boundary of Fates

And Souls.

Blood and blade,

And twisting Spark.

To fracture,

Break,

And rend apart.

The words tolled through my head again and again, so loud it rattled my teeth and made my eardrums throb. I tried to pull back—to look away, but all I could do was stagger a few steps until I bumped into Noa. He shouted at me, his mouth moving and his expression frenzied with worry, but I couldn’t hear him. Only the voices.

Loud—gods, why were they so loud? Where were they coming from?!

Then I saw it.

Tall, humanoid figures drifted around the room like silent wisps of smoke, transparent and featureless. G-Gods! Were those … ghosts?!

I had no idea, but the sight of them sent a sharp thrum of chills over my body. The whispers grew louder whenever one of them passed closely by, but none of them seemed to notice or acknowledge us at all. They moved in total silence, the outlines of their misty white forms flickering like smoke in the wind as they floated about, gathering in certain places and then moving like a procession toward the center of the room—right where Noa and I stood.

The figures gathered around the outside of the ring of statues, forming a circle. There must have been dozens of them in all, but only three drifted forward from the group, their arms spread wide and heads bowed in reverence. All at once, the three figures reached into their ghostly robes and drew out an object. One held a long knife that looked like it was made from dark stone with an odd ivory handle. The second cradled a small, teardrop-shaped bottle. And the third … held what looked like a small metal rod.

One by one, each of the figures took a place before one of the statues. They all bowed in unison, and then the one who held the knife reached up to place it in the outstretched hands of the closest statue. Something shook the floor beneath my feet. It made the little pebbles rattle and shift along the floor, like a deep, concussive boom.

Was that … thunder?

Overhead, I could see dark clouds gathering beyond the circular opening in the ceiling. Fierce gusts of stormy wind filled the chamber, blowing through my hair and making all those phantomlike figures waver and flicker.

The next figure uncorked the teardrop-shaped bottle and poured the contents over the hands of the second statue.

BOOM!

Another crack of thunder split the sky and echoed through the chamber, so loud it even drowned out the constant rush of whispers in my head.

I staggered back, covering my ears as I watched the last figure stand before the final statue holding that slender metal rod. Lightning sizzled and popped through the sky beyond that circular opening, rattling the foundations of the temple and filling the air with wild, prickling, tingling energy. It made every hair on my body stand on end, and my heartbeat race out of control. My body seemed to flash hot and cold as I stood, frozen in place, and watched while the figure held up the metal rod so that it touched the hands of that statue.

CRACK—BOOOOM!!

A massive bolt of lighting arced down from the sky, hitting the raised end of the metal rod.

Everything went white. My ears rang with a high-pitched squealing sound. And for a moment, I was weightless. Floating. Dead? No. I could barely feel my body like a lead weight, solid and heavy, but alive. The whispers had gone silent. The storm, too.

Gazing up, my mouth fell open in awe as an enormous, winged creature passed over the opening. Its huge form eclipsed the moon with bat-like wings, jagged horns and spines, a lashing tail, and two glowing eyes like bottomless pits of infernal fire.

And somehow, I just knew.

Deep down, in the centermost part of my soul, I knew what I had to do. What I was meant to do. As though destiny itself had leaned down and whispered it into my ear. It wasn’t a mistake. Coming here hadn’t been just a fluke of bad luck. I was meant to be here—ever since I touched that book. Maybe even before that.

“CLARKE!” A pair of strong hands grabbed my shoulders suddenly, shaking me hard, and forcefully smashing something onto my face.

My glasses?

I gasped for a frantic breath as I blinked. My body shuddered with a chill that raced up my spine and tingled along my scalp. I blinked owlishly up at Noa, who still gripped me like he was afraid I might drop dead on the spot.

“Alright, human. Spill the beans, would you? Something’s obviously sticky about you, so fess up!” Traegan barked as he shuffled closer, his beefy arms crossed and his mouth puckered sourly.

“I-I don’t … understand,” I stammered.

“Your eyes were glowing again,” Noa clarified, still not letting me go. “You went still and wouldn’t move or speak. It was like you were having some sort of fit.”

Oh. Well, that … made sense. Sort of.

I shakily adjusted my glasses so they were straight on my nose, wiping at something wet that dripped off my chin. Gods, was that blood?

“Your nose is bleeding,” Noa confirmed. “What happened, Clarke? What’s going on with you? That’s the second time this has happened here.”

I swallowed hard. Of course, he was right. And now I understood a little better why. I just wasn’t sure how to explain it to them without sounding madder than usual. Would they even believe me?

Perhaps it was better to simply try and show them. After all, it might be our only chance.

“Bring the curved blade you found,” I said as I steadied myself and gazed back up at the three statues, “I think I know how to get out of here.”

* * *

Noa and Traegan kept exchanging wary, concerned glances as they humored my instructions. I didn’t know how to explain any of this to them, though. Not when I barely understood it myself. I’d seen a vision of this place, like an echo from an ancient past. A memory locked into the very stones of it that had replayed right before me eyes. It was similar to what had happened on the beach when I saw that young man in the black armor destroying our village. Somehow, my seeing problems were getting worse. Instead of just remembering everything I saw firsthand, I was now seeing things that had happened already.

If there was a word for that condition, I’d never heard it before. I didn’t know if this was some sort of manifestation of a divine power, or a curse, or just a horrible stroke of bad luck. Whatever the case, though, I couldn’t deny that these visions had been accurate before. Er, well, once anyway. That had to mean something, right? All I could do was stammer and stumble through a terrible excuse of a description of what I’d just experienced to Noa and Traegan and hope they didn’t think I was completely insane.

So far, they seemed willing to take it on a little faith. Not like we had a variety of other options, though. We needed a way out, and this might be our only chance.

The curved sword Noa had found in the goblin hoard wasn’t anything fine, ornate, or ceremonial. But it was sharp. I just hoped it would do. My stomach swirled and flipped as I took it and made a quick slice over the palm of one of my hands. I handed the blade back to him, and he gave me another one of those lengthy, deeply concerned, almost fatherly stares before he slowly turned to face the statue behind him.

The same one I had seen the misty, ghostly figure place a blade on in my vision.

“Put the blade in its hands,” I instructed as I moved quickly to the second statue, holding my hand to try and catch the blood that ran out through my fingers. “And get ready. Traegan, you might want to stand back a little more.”

Our new dwarven friend arched an eyebrow like he wasn’t buying a single inch of this insanity. “Aye, of course. My pleasure. I’ll just stand way over here while you two carry out some cursed, ancient blood ritual that’ll get us all killed. Happy to be of service.”

Noa rolled his eyes, but I saw his jawline go tense as he faced the statue and reached up to carefully place the battered, half-rusted blade into its outstretched hands. He drew back quickly, his broad chest heaving with quick, anxious breaths as he stared around the chamber like he was waiting for the whole room to explode or something.

Silence.

Nothing moved. No rumbles of thunder or gathering storm.

Oh no. What if I was wrong about all of this? What if it had to be a certain blade? Or a specific person’s blood? We didn’t even have a metal rod. This … this was stupid, wasn’t it?

Noa turned slowly to cast me a confused stare. He nodded once, toward my statue, as though silently coaxing me to get on with it.

Right. We might as well try.

Standing on my toes, I could barely reach to wipe my bloodied hand over those on the statue. I let my fresh dribble for almost a minute before I stood back, next to Noa, and waited.

More silence.

Traegan started clapping slowly. “Well, you certainly had me goin’. You ready to come up with a real plan for how to get outta here, or are we gonna keep—”

I let out what was probably the most horribly undignified scream of my life and flailed backward as something whizzed past my head, grazing my cheek with a sudden sting of pain.

I flailed back, searching for whatever it was that had just hit me in the face.

More objects zipped past, one ripping a hole through my tunic and clattering over the stone behind us. Was that … an arrow? Oh, Fates, was someone shooting at us?! Had the goblins found us somehow?

Out of nowhere, Noa hit me at full speed, looped an arm around my waist, and basically dragged me down to the floor. “Traegan!” he shouted, as he began dragging me along in a frantic crawl to duck behind the nearest statue.

“I can’t see them!” Traegan called back. “We gotta make a run for it! Back left corner! Now!”

Noa seized the back of my head and forced me to look him in the eye. It was only then that I realized he’d been hit, too. The feathered shaft of an arrow stuck out of his shoulder right below his collarbone. O-Oh no. We were going to die!

“Listen to me Clarke, you have to run first. I’ll cover you from behind. Make for the passage on the far corner of the chamber. I’ll be right behind you,” he commanded, somehow managing to sound calm and collected despite the blood that was seeping through his tunic around that arrow. “You do not look back. You keep going. Understand?”

All I could do was nod frantically.

More arrows whizzed past our hiding place as Noa took a few deep, readying breaths. His eyes pinched shut and his expression skewed with pain for an instant. Then he fixed me with a hard, brutally focused glare and counted down on his fingers.

Three …

Two …

One.

I scrambled to my feet and ran headlong for the nearest chamber exit without looking back.

13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

With my heart in my throat and tears welling in my eyes, I pumped my legs as hard as I could. My vision swerved in and out of focus and my lungs seemed to squeeze so that I had to fight for every breath. I ran toward the tunnel opening with my head ducked low, trying to make myself as small as possible. Shouts, like barked orders in a language I didn’t understand, echoed through the chamber behind me. More bowstrings snapped, firing off shots that hit the stone all around.

Faster! I had to go faster! Almost there. We could make it! We could find a place to hide, and then—

Noa let out a sharp cry of pain from behind me. Oh gods—no! Was he hit? Had he fallen?

Just as I looked back, my foot snagged on an uneven stone. I tripped and tumbled forward, hitting the ground face-first. My body skidded over the stone and rolled to a halt, finally stopping so that I was lying flat on my back. Stars danced in my vision. I gasped in deep, frantic breaths as I rolled over and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. I-I couldn’t stop now. We had to keep going.

Looking up, I spotted Noa only a few feet away. He lay on his side, blood running from the corners of his mouth. He cursed in the Rienkan language as he bared his teeth and began shakily trying to get to his feet again.

A big boot suddenly planted right on his head, mashing him back down and pinning him against the stone floor. Standing over both of us with a crossbow in one hand and a longsword in the other, a tall figure in black leather armor leered down at us with eyes as red as two fire-lit rubies. I couldn’t see if it was a man or a woman—not with most of their face hidden behind a black silken scarf tied over their nose and mouth. But the emblem stitched into it, shining in silvery thread, made my mouth drop open and my eyes widen. Dread like icy fingertips shuddered all the way down my spine. I knew that symbol.

A hand with an eye at the very center.

The Hands of Fate. The Emperor of Nar’Haleen’s secret guard. Silent agents of his will that operated only in the darkest shadows.

I’d only read about them, of course. But one glimpse was all it took. I knew. They’d come here … for me.

Just like they’d come to the library. And to the village.

Now, they’d kill Noa, too, right in front of me.

No.

NO!!

Like a tidal wave smashing a dam to pieces, something inside me broke. And what rushed out of my mouth was a primal, bellowing, piercing cry like the roar of a beast. The lenses of my glasses splintered. My body surged with a rush of primal energy. A power—raw, ancient, and furious—that I didn’t understand. It pulsed outward from me and filled the chamber with a shockwave that cracked the stone walls, buckled the floor, and shook massive hunks of the ceiling down all around us.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

Hunks of stone smashed to the ground, shattering the three statues, and punching straight through the floor.

Through the cracked lenses of my glasses, I saw the figure before me stagger back and shakily raise their crossbow right at my head. My body burned with rage like hellfire and I thrust a hand out toward him, snapping it into a fist.

Instantly, the Hand agent flew backward, arms and legs flailing wide and head cracking against the floor.

CRACK—BOOM!

Another massive hunk of stone shook loose from the ceiling and smashed down, burying them and splitting more of the floor wide open. Fissures zigzagged across the floor as it all began to crumble right beneath my feet.

Oh … Oh no. I-I had to run. Right now.

Where was Traegan? Could Noa even stand?!

I whirled to search the chaos, but before I could even take a step, the floor buckled beneath us. I screamed as I plummeted into the darkness below. The abyss swallowed me down into churning chaos. Massive boulders and pieces of the stone floor and ceiling fell and spun all around me like bashing, smashing meteors.

I’d be crushed to death. Or I’d just die on impact whenever we hit bottom. Either way, I’d never make it out alive. I’d never see Kaili or any of the others again. She’d never know what happened to us.

“The time has come …” A voice, deep and soft, echoed from somewhere in the depths of my mind. The same one I had heard so many times now. The one I knew I had to trust.

“Awaken.”

* * *

BAM!

Something slammed into my face like I’d just been smacked with a frying pan.

“Come on, Clarke! Breathe!” A familiar voice shouted over me. “Do it again!”

Someone pinched my nose shut and pushed their mouth over mine, forcing air into my lungs with two deep, long breaths. Instantly, everything seemed to snap into focus. My eyes flew open and I shuddered hard, immediately coughing and wheezing for more air on my own.

“There you go,” Noa consoled as he helped me roll over onto my side. “Deep breaths, boy. You’re all right.”

Was I, though? My head throbbed as I lay there, gasping and sputtering. I tried to blink away the bright spots still dancing before my eyes. But the more I moved, the more everything seemed to hurt.

In the weak light, I could just barely see Noa sitting beside me, wiping at his face with the hem of his tunic. Next to him, Traegan gaped at me with wide, horrified eyes and his face smudged with dirt and fresh scrapes. His little pet rat still perched on his shoulder, sniffing the air and wiggling his whiskers.

I couldn’t tell much about our current condition, how wounded they might be, or even how I was. My head still swam and spun, and I coughed as the thick dust in the air burned my throat.

We were alive, though, and that was definitely a good thing.

I just didn’t understand how.

Looking up, I could still see the remnants of the previous chamber overhead. Moonlight poured down from that circular opening. Er, well, it had been circular before. Now that portions of the ceiling had collapsed, it was more of a mangled crack. It had seemed so far away before, but now gazing up at the sky from down even farther in this new chamber felt like we might as well be sitting at the bottom of the ocean.

“Does anything hurt? Any broken bones?” Noa questioned, leaning in to grab my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze again. “Can you see me clearly? Any pain anywhere?”

I slowly shook my head. I couldn’t pinpoint any particular place that hurt worse than any other. My whole body ached like I was a tiny bug who’d been shaken up inside a jar.

“Then you’re one lucky human,” Traegan huffed. Cradling one of his arms close against his chest, I could tell he’d already wrapped it up in a makeshift sling made from pieces of torn cloth.

I guess he hadn’t been so fortunate.

“Wh-Where …?” I started to rasp.

“We don’t know,” Noa said quietly. He flinched and clenched his teeth as he stretched out one of his legs. Blood had already soaked through his baggy, sirwal-styled pants around the place where something that looked suspiciously like a snapped-off crossbow bolt stuck out of his calf. He’d apparently already tried to wrap it up with torn-off pieces of his own clothes, but we didn’t have anything else to use for medical supplies. He wouldn’t be running anywhere with an injury like that. No wonder he had cried out and fallen while we were running from the Hands of Fate.

“It looks like some sort of secondary chamber beneath the one we were in before,” Traegan finally spoke, his tone somber as he panned his gaze at the small mountains of debris around where we sat. “Stones, what happened up there? Some sort of earthquake?”

I flinched.

Slowly, Noa and I looked up at the same time. Then we exchanged a long, silent stare. My stomach flipped and spun, leaving me nauseous as I waited for Noa to speak. I didn’t want him to tell Traegan. Not yet. Not before I understood what was really happening to me. But if he decided to, there wasn’t much I could do to stop him. And after we’d all almost been killed yet again, I really didn’t have a good excuse to keep silent.

Noa’s mouth scrunched and he finally looked away, glaring down at his wounded leg without saying a word.

“We don’t see sign nor speck of anyone else in this gods-forsaken temple, and then out of nowhere there’s an army of ’em rainin’ arrows down over us?” Traegan went on, looking mournfully down at his arm. I couldn’t tell if it was broken or injured in some other way. For his sake, I hoped it wasn’t too bad.

“Pitathi, maybe?” Noa guessed. “They’ve been known to live in this region, and since they prefer the underground cavern systems, we might have stumbled into their territory.”

“I didn’t get a good look at ‘em,” Traegan admitted.

“I did.” My voice scraped hoarsely, and I coughed again as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. My head still throbbed and pulsed with every heartbeat, like my brain might suddenly burst out my ears or split my skull open like an orange peel at any moment. It was hard to think past that pain, let alone talk.

But I had to try. “One of them did have red eyes. But, um, they were, uh, that is … they were wearing the symbol of the Hands of Fate. Or at least, the one that tried to kill Noa and me was,” I said, wincing with every other word.

“Here.” Noa’s hand appeared in front of my face, holding what was left of my spectacles. I guess he had noticed my discomfort and figured out what was wrong.

My heart sank as I cradled them. The frames were all bent and the lenses were scratched and cracked. I didn’t know if they’d even work now. I sighed and tried to carefully bend them back into the right shape.

“You’re sure it was the Hands of Fate?” Traegan’s expression had gone dark and ominous, his gaze piercing as he seemed to measure my every word carefully.

“Well, I guess it could have been someone else using their symbol,” I mumbled as I gently twisted at the bent metal of my glasses. “It was definitely the hand with the eye in the center, though. They had it stitched onto their face scarf.”

“How do you even know what it looks like—wait,” Traegan stopped and raised his hand before I could even speak. “Read it in another book?”

I rolled my eyes. “I was raised in a library. Of course it was from a book.”

Traegan’s throat jumped as he gave a slow, hard swallow. “Well that’s unsettling, to say the least. They’re supposed to be the emperor’s left hand. What, by all the stones, would they want with a place like this?”

“I don’t think it’s the place they’re interested in,” Noa said, his tone suggestive as he flicked me a knowing glance.

I flinched and hesitated, going still where I sat. Was he going to tell Traegan about me, after all? If so, I didn’t want to hear it. It was better not to know how Noa really felt about having me around because I couldn’t imagine he’d have anything positive to say. So far, I’d cost him his home, two members of his family, and gotten us lost and nearly killed down here.

“You think the Hands of Fate are after your little human pet?” Traegan guessed, arching one of his bushy eyebrows. “If you are even human at all.”

My stomach gave an uneasy, twisting flutter. Not human? How could I not be human? What else could I be? Yes, my hair was a little weird, but I didn’t have pointed ears like elves. I certainly wasn’t a dwarf. What else was there?

“I’ve heard tales from far across the seas of young deities cutting their teeth in the realm of mortals. Godlings—that’s what they call ‘em.” He leaned closer, his beady eyes looking a lot like his pet rat’s as he studied me. “Is that what you are? Would explain all that weird, eye-glowing nonsense, wouldn’t it?”

“I-I … I don’t …” My voice hung in my throat. I didn’t know. I had read some speculation about godlings, yes. Most of it was merely that—pure speculation. There weren’t any concrete, historian-confirmed stories about so-called young gods. Most of the texts that even mentioned their existence were from Avora, which meant they were all written in extremely complex allegory that most people couldn’t even understand.

Besides, no one had ever said anything like that to me at the Compendium when I lived there. Not even High Inquisitor Bellavora. Surely, if that were the case, she would have known about it, wouldn’t she? She had been in charge of the library for hundreds of years. She knew the texts held within it better than anyone else.

And she was an Avoran elf.

No. Impossible. There was no way I could be a godling or anything like that. Cursed, more likely. That had always been my most plausible theory.

“Whatever he is, he’s a part of our family now. We won’t just give him up to the Hands of Fate, or anyone else,” Noa growled as he began struggling to get to his feet. He hissed and grimaced, gritting his teeth as he tried putting weight on his injured leg. Not good. He might not even be able to walk without help.

I stared up at him, unable to stop my eyes from welling and my mouth from screwing up. No one had ever said that about me before. Sure, I’d belonged to the library as a ward of the scholars and archivists there. But I wasn’t their child. We weren’t a family.

I’d never had one before now.

I tried to use sliding my battered glasses back onto my nose as an excuse to wipe my eyes so maybe no one—especially not Traegan—would notice. He’d probably just tease me about that, too.

My shoulders dropped and every muscle in my body relaxed as the constant, pulsing pain in my head finally eased. My glasses were basically wrecked, but the spellwork on them still seemed to be working. For now, anyway. Maybe I’d eventually find someone who could repair them.

You know, if we happened to get out of here alive.

“We should see if there’s an exit down here,” Noa suggested as he hobbled a few feet away, staring off across the mounts of rubble and broken boulders all around. Beyond them, the shapes of something white rose ominously from the dark. Pillars, maybe? Perhaps they’d been carved from white marble or alabaster. It was hard to tell from here.

“Aye. Those Hands of Fate mongrels had to get in somehow, didn’t they? Means there must be an exit somewhere. I spotted a few of their bodies smashed over there,” Traegan pointed with his good arm. “Maybe one of them’s gotta torch? And I’d like one of those crossbows, if we can find one still intact.”

Noa nodded in agreement. “Let’s do this quietly, then. Minimal talking, and stay close together. If there are any more Hands of Fate hiding down here, I’d rather not make myself such an easy target a second time.”

14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

For once, we got lucky.

Amidst the rubble and ruin, we found several bodies from the Hands of Fate, and were able to confirm that I was correct. They were, without a doubt, secret agents of the emperor. What they were doing down here, however, was still a mystery. If they were hunting me, then how had they managed to track me all the way down here? It seemed as though this place had been forgotten by civilization centuries ago. So how had they known exactly where I was?

Strange …

I puzzled over that while Noa and Traegan took their time combing over our fallen enemies’ belongings and essentially looting their bodies for whatever we might be able to use. Noa eagerly put on a few pieces of their leather armor that fit him, and took one of their longswords that hadn’t been crushed by all the falling boulders.

Traegan found a crossbow with a snapped string, but Noa assured him we could fix it the next time we stopped to take a rest. Armed with that, a couple of daggers, and a quiver of bolts thrown over his back, Traegen seemed a lot cheerier as he held up what I considered to be our finest prize: a freshly lit torch.

Having that spot of light made me feel a little less hopeless as we made our way through the massive chamber and searched for an exit. It didn’t take long for that feeling to go away, though.

What I had mistaken for columns and arches of alabaster or marble weren’t even stone at all. As the light of our torch filled the massive, ancient cavern, more strange white shapes emerged. They towered over us, seeming to be connected almost like …

Oh gods, it was.

An enormous skeleton.

“Sweet singing stones,” Traegor gasped as we slowly approached. “What is that? An underbeast?”

“No.” Noa moved closer to us, his tone low and ominous as his turquoise eyes panned over the massive bones. “Look at the wings. The claws. This is no beast of our world.”

He was right. As the torchlight fell across the huge, horned skull of a creature as big as a warship resting on the dark stone directly before us, I knew. I recognized its shape, with all those jagged fangs and sloping horns, right away. I had never seen one in person, of course. But they were depicted in drawings and etchings, stories and ballads, and in countless books.

This was a dragon.

A very, very big one.

I only knew of one dragon, in all the texts I had ever read, that spoke of one this size. But it couldn’t be him, could it? There had to be some other explanation—some other beast who had achieved this colossal size— because otherwise these remains might belong to … Avgior.

A dead ancient god of Fate and Discernment.

It would have explained a lot, actually. Like why this temple had been lost in the first place. It wasn’t somewhere anyone would want to come pay respects. It also explained why all the images of his likeness, or his symbol of the all-knowing eye, were inlaid into the details and decorations here. The mosaic upstairs, the depictions of the three ancient foregods, and the deliberate use of ritual blood magic to seal this place off from the rest of the world—it all made sense.

No one wanted Avgior to reawaken.

That thought sent a wave of chills through my entire body, all the way to the tips of my toes. I shivered and hesitated, staring at the massive skull as my pulse began to quicken.

That wasn’t correct. Someone did want him to awaken.

The voice that kept whispering in my mind.

But why would that have anything to do with me? Why was I the only one hearing that voice, or experiencing anything strange? Before, when I thought that Hand agent was going to kill Noa, I had done something—something I couldn’t explain. Traegan had said that Avgior’s symbol had appeared on my forehead. Noa had told me my eyes glowed.

What did it all mean? How was it connected?

“This isn’t a temple,” I realized aloud, my voice a halting, panicked whisper. “It’s not a tomb, either.”

“What is it, then?” Traegan pressed, squinting suspiciously at me again.

“I think it’s a prison.” I ducked my head and rubbed the back of my neck. “Think about it—it’s been buried and intentionally forgotten. There’s very few doors, and the ones we have found are sealed with powerful, ancient magic. It’s as though whatever was contained down here was something they didn’t want to escape.”

Traegan shifted uncomfortably, his hold on our torch tightening. “Such as?”

I flicked one last, terrified look up at Noa before I dared to say it out loud. Afterward, I didn’t know what he’d think of me. Maybe he would regret ever calling me family.

Because if my suspicions were correct, then the reason I’d been drawn here—by fate or pure destiny—might mean something terrible for everyone.

I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see the way either of them looked at me after this. “The essence of Avgior, the dead God of Fate,” I answered at last, my voice a shaking, rasping whisper.

A boot crunched over the gravel and bits of grit on the stone floor as someone moved closer. A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and gave a firm squeeze.

I dared to look up, and met Noa’s gaze. His brow was furrowed with a look of deep concern as he asked, “Do you hear him, Clarke? In your thoughts? Or your dreams?”

My heartbeat skipped and I couldn’t keep my jaw from dropping. H-How did he know that? I’d never told him about the voice in my head. How could he possibly guess that?

I guess my shocked, terrified expression gave me away. Noa sank back some, his posture drooping as his expression softened, becoming more like sympathy and grim understanding. His mouth pressed into a thin, uncomfortable line as he gave one, small nod and let his hand slide off my shoulder.

“I know what it is to be chosen by something you barely understand,” he murmured so quietly Traegan probably couldn’t hear. “Just know, you do not have to carry this burden alone. Whatever happens, Clarke, your family is with you.”

Huh? What was he saying? A thousand questions poured through my mind like sand through a sifter. Did that mean Noa had also heard a voice like this? Or been connected to a deity? Which one? Did he still have that connection? I wanted to ask, but with Traegan bumbling along nearby, I knew it wasn’t the right time. Noa didn’t completely trust our new friend, and I didn’t know him well enough to vouch.

For now, I would have to keep quiet, save all my questions, and trust that the answers would come.

* * *

“Well, prison or no, there still has to be a door somewhere,” Traegan reasoned as he bumbled over to stand right at the end of the skull’s enormous snout. He held his torch up higher, making the shadows shift eerily over all the curves, cracks, and uneven textures of the white bone. Each one of its massive fangs was as big as he was. If the beast had been alive, it could have eaten him whole like a freshly picked grape. “A door big enough for a beastie this size to fit through, yeah?”

Hmmm. Fair point.

“I think we saw that door already,” Noa muttered. “Remember the large hole in the ceiling?”

“Oh, I remember. But I don’t think even that was big enough,” Traegan leaned back some, studying the skull and arching one of his thick eyebrows curiously. “I suppose they wouldn’t need a big door, though, if this really is the remains of some old, dead god.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Traegan whirled around, making the flames from the torch whip and crackle as he faced me with a broad, wolfish grin. “Aye? What’s that? Do I actually know something about gods that you don’t?”

I frowned harder. “Well, I’m eager to learn.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Just let me have this moment. Savor it a little, eh?” He rocked back on his heels, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he took in a deep, exaggerated breath. Then he smirked at me again. “Is this how you feel all the time, then? All puffy and proud?”

Now Noa was glaring at him, too.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I grumbled.

Traegan took in a few more deep, theatrical breaths before he finally straightened and started to explain. “I happen to know that there exists certain fables that say the ancient gods used to walk this world disguised as mere mortals,” he said, mimicking my voice.

“I know that,” I growled.

“Aye, but did you know that in that form, those legends say that the gods were more vulnerable? They could suffer mortal wounds, be trapped or caught, and even have children with real mortals? Supposedly, that’s how races like the Pitathi, Rajinna, and Avoran elves all came to be. It’s also why they preferred picking mortal champions to fight for their causes, or implanting their essences into magic stones, rather than the risk of walking on mortal ground again.”

Oh. Well. No. I hadn’t known that, actually. Of course, all those races—and a great many more—attributed their heritage to one deity or another. But I’d never read anything that suggested that they might literally be blood descendants of the gods.

Still, something about this didn’t quite fit.

I stared past our new, thickheaded, ridiculous friend at the massive skull looming over us. “Avgior was said to hate mortals,” I reasoned aloud. “Why would he turn himself into one?”

“All mortals?” Traegan quipped, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe one caught his fancy, eh? Lured him down here into a trap?”

“I’ve never read anything like that,” I muttered.

“And you likely wouldn’t, would you? A god no one liked, who was supposedly an evil beastie, whose remains have been hidden away down here where no one might ever find them, and sealed with powerful magics. Seems like someone’s gone to quite a bit of trouble to make sure the world knew as little as possible about this big boy.”

I hated it. It caused me literal, physical internal pain to even think about. But …

Traegan might actually be right about that.

Noa stepped forward, still favoring his injured leg as he stood next to me, his shoulders back and his jawline clenched with focus. “You know how to find the answer, Clarke,” he said, his tone low and ominous.

I tensed.

“If any of this is true, then this god may be trying to make contact. He’s been trying to speak to you already. Perhaps it’s time to take the glasses off and listen.”

“I-I don’t know what will happen,” I confessed. “What if he takes control of my body? What if he makes me attack you and Traegan? What if—”

“What if you finally get the answers you’ve been searching for? What if you finally understand why the Hands of Fate have pursued you so ruthlessly?” he countered. “There is always great risk in uncovering great truth. Only you can decide if it’s worth it or not, but whatever you decide, know that I will stand at your side.”

“I’m not strong like you, Noa. I never have been. I don’t know if I can control it if … if …” My voice caught, choked out by the rising terror that made my throat go stiff.

A calm, strangely peaceful smile spread over his face as he flicked a sideways glance down at me. “Strength comes in many forms, Clarke. You simply have to embrace that your strength might not look like everyone else’s. Now, what do you wish to do? Has your time for truth come at last? Or shall we keep searching? Either way, we will have your back to the bitter end.”

15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I nearly tripped over my own feet again as I staggered forward, slowly approaching the front of that monstrously huge dragon skull. My heart pounded fast and hard, droning in my ears like the beat of a war drum. It made my chest ache and my head spin as I stopped right at the tip of the white snout bone.

I stole a quick glance back at Traegan and Noa, who stood only a few yards away. They wore mismatched expressions of curiosity, focus, apprehension, and withheld terror. I probably looked more like the latter, though. This was foolish, wasn’t it? We should be searching for a way out of here, not worrying about whatever was wrong with my head.

A hard knot lodged in the back of my throat as I stared back up at the huge skull. What if Traegan and Noa were both right, though? What if this ancient being was connected to me somehow? Did it have something to do with reading that strange book? The one that had called out to me in the library?

Or … had I been meant for this even before that? I’d always had my reading and remembering problem. And I hadn’t found that book by chance. It had drawn me to it, maybe the same way I’d been drawn to this place, too.

One way or another, I needed to know. This might be my only chance. I couldn’t afford to waste it.

I shut my eyes tightly, my whole body trembling as I slowly slid my bent-up spectacles off my nose and tucked them into my pocket. Immediately, that familiar pain thrummed through my head again. The faint, scattered fragments of whispers flooded through my thoughts like a whirling vortex—tangled and overlapping so that I couldn’t even understand what they said.

Then, little by little, I lifted my head and opened my eyes. Before me, the whole chamber seemed to vibrate with a subtle, pulsing power. A presence, like a beacon of raw energy, that ebbed off those massive white bones. It settled over my body like a weight, heavy on my chest and bearing down on my head. I bit down hard against the urge to jerk back. To run. To put my glasses back on to get some relief from the pressure that swelled in my head. The voices—they were so loud. It hurt. I-I just wanted it to stop.

But even more than that I wanted—needed—to understand. What was wrong with me? Why was I like this? What was I meant for? Why was I here?

I set my jaw and stretched out a hand toward the skull, pressing my palm to its smooth, cool surface.

Instantly, all those voices in my head went silent. The pulsing, aching pain suddenly stopped. The intense pressure burst, leaving nothing but an airy, floaty feeling behind that made my breath catch like I’d been dropped from a great height. My chest prickled with a strange, tingly heat.

“Five thousand years confined to the dark,” a deep, rich voice spoke before me. “An eternity have I waited for you … my heir.”

I looked up, my heart already pounding like mad, into the face of a man who looked … like me. Sort of, anyway. He was much older, and had hard, chiseled features with a longer nose, pointed chin, and high cheekbones. But his hair was white just like mine, and he wore it long in flowing locks and interwoven braids down past his shoulders. His eyes were sky blue like mine, too, and they examined me with an intensity that made a cold sweat shiver over my skin.

“You’re the voice I’ve been hearing,” I managed to gasp hoarsely. “Who … who are you?”

His brilliant eyes narrowed to thin, scrutinizing slits as his head tilted to one side slightly. “I am you. And you are me. We are fragments of a single essence. The only two that remain.”

“The essence of Avgior,” I heard myself wheeze.

A cold, satisfied smile spread over his thin lips. “You have already fused with the third. The knowledge stripped away has now been reclaimed. All that remains is the reunion of soul and body.”

“What does this mean?” I dared to ask. “What do you want from me?”

“I want what you want—to be whole again. To awaken,” he replied.

Was that really what I wanted? I didn’t even understand what he meant by all that. What would happen after? Would I still be myself? Or would I be … him? Would I remember anything about who I was? What about how I felt about Noa, Kaili, and the others? Would I forget them, too?

I hesitated, holding his gaze and taking a single, calculated step backward. “What about my memories? What about who I am now? Will all that go away?”

“You and I are already one in the same. Our minds are not separate. I know what you know. See what you see. But what we lack now lies before you. Our true form,” he explained, his chin tilting upward some in a proud, defiant stance. “We will no longer be confined to a mortal manifestation. We will no longer suffer the indignity of such vulnerability. We will be restored. Awakened once again.”

“And what then? What is it we want? Where do we go from here?” I questioned, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I wasn’t foolish enough to go blundering into this without all the details I could get. Even if we were supposedly meant to reunite, even if I was just a missing fragment of some larger, powerful being, I still had a say in this. It was still my choice. My destiny. My fate.

His smile was cryptic, like the silvery surface of the moon. Beautiful and ethereal, but distant and completely unknowable. Avgior extended a hand, offering for me to take it.

An urge, like a gnawing, burning, feral hunger, rose up inside me. A need to take his hand that drug me forward a step. And then another.

I sucked in a sharp breath. What was I doing? What was happening to me? Why did it feel like I should take his hand? Like I could trust him?

I didn’t know if accepting that gesture would be enough to seal our bond. I didn’t know what would happen to me after. But that feeling, that sense of rightness, jarred me.

I froze up, staring at his hand as he whispered in my thoughts—that smooth, deep voice filling my mind once again.

“To put an end to the one that would destroy all we know.”

* * *

Avgior was right.

I knew exactly whom he was talking about. I’d seen that boy twice now. Er, well, only once in the flesh, but I had witnessed firsthand the carnage, destruction, and death left behind in his wake. I had no doubts that left unchecked, he would hurt more people. He would continue to slaughter, apparently at the command of the Nar’Haleenan Emperor. Whatever power he held couldn’t continue to go unchecked.

The boy with the mark on his hand had to be stopped.

But was I really the right choice of candidate to do it? I couldn’t fight. I had no idea how to use a sword or spear. What could I possibly do against someone like that?

“Our power is more than sufficient,” Avgior said, as though he could read my mind.

Um, er, our mind … I guess.

Looking back at his outstretched hand, I couldn’t deny that urge to take it. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was what I was meant to do. I could avenge everyone we had lost. I could stop that boy from hurting anyone else.

One question stuck in my mind like a cold needle, though. Before I agreed to anything, before I dared to take his hand, I had to know.

“I thought you hated mortals?”

Avgior’s hand dropped slightly, his narrowed gaze widening in a look of genuine surprise. Then, little by little, his expression closed. His sharp brows drew together into a resigned frown. “Records recorded by only one perspective often carry the bias of that hand. Our story has never truly been told.”

“What do you mean?” I urged. “I need to understand.”

“There were mortals we despised. Mortals who sought the same ends others now pursue—to violate our realm. They seek to pillage and plunder our secrets, to steal our power for selfish gain. Our kin could not see it. They were blinded by their pride. They believed none could breach our realm,” he explained. “It was by those mortal hands that we fell. We—who can see all that a mortal heart contains—were torn asunder and cursed. We were imprisoned, silenced, and forgotten. But our essence, though broken, has endured. It can now be reborn. Awakened anew to stand against those who would see that history repeated.”

My mind churned with that information, trying to make sense of everything he said. Basically, he was insisting that this same scenario had already played out thousands of years ago. Someone—a group of mortals—had tried to siege the kingdom of the gods. They’d killed him in that effort, and found a way to tear his essence apart and scatter it so he wouldn’t be able to re-manifest and tell his side of the story. That must have been during the War of the Stones, when man warred against the gods. The result of that conflict had led the gods to decide to remove themselves from the mortal world, interfering only by means of chosen candidates who held certain artifacts that were imbued with their power.

Only, that arrangement had ended not long ago. A man named Jaevid Broadfeather, from the kingdom of Maldobar, had ultimately ended the use of those sacred stones. He had been the spokesperson for Paligno, the God of Life, and had shattered that delicate balance—an act felt around the entire world.

That was fifteen years ago, according the records in the Compendium.

Around the same time I had been brought there.

My heart gave a sudden, frantic jolt in my chest. Could there be a connection between those events? Had something happened to me as a baby when that deal was shattered? Was that why my parents had brought me to the library? What if … what if that agreement for the gods to tether their essences to those stones had somehow stopped Avgior’s essence from being reborn? What if that was what had kept him trapped, unable to manifest, for all these years?

I trembled as I looked up at him again, and got another jolt when I found his expression probably looked a lot like mine. Uncertain. Anxious.

Sad.

“They did not hear our warnings before, but they will hear us now,” he promised, his tone firm and resolved. “We will not fail again.”

With a deep, readying breath, I nodded and stepped forward. I managed a nervous smile as I clasped his hand. Warmth like the soothing heat of a winter campfire spread up my arm, through my chest, down my spine, and all the way out to my fingers and toes.

Before me, Avgior’s smile was peaceful as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. The outline of his tall form began to glow … and gradually dissolve to a fine, shimmering silver mist. Little by little, he faded away, dissolving into nothing but empty air.

And within me, that heat grew. It caught like a wildfire and blazed through my veins. It ignited to the very depths of my soul. I felt it rush to every corner of my body, stretching and molding me from the inside out.

I was the same.

But I was forever changed.

And in an instant, everything went completely dark.

PART FOUR

MAYLEA

16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Heeey. Well, well, look who’s eating on his own for a change,” Uncle Reigh gave a satisfied snort as he came into our room, lugging along a big sack of provisions for our trip. He’d gone out to get rations, new waterskins, medical materials, and a stockpile of arrows for me.

It was all stuff we needed, sure, but I honestly think he was just looking for an excuse to avoid being around Violet. Ever since their little fight, neither one of them stayed in the same room as the other for long. Ridiculous. How were we supposed to keep working together if they didn’t get over this?

Sitting at the small fire pit, Thatcher grinned around a mouthful of rice porridge and raised his spoon in acknowledgement. He was on his third bowl of it, thank the gods. It was so good to see he finally had an appetite again.

Only six or seven hours ago, it had seemed like Thatcher might not be able to recover from his injuries. I couldn’t remember a time when I had ever seen Uncle Reigh look more worried than when he mixed up some of that strange Thornwine potion into a cup of tea, and helped him sip it. None of us knew exactly how it would affect him, or if it would make any difference at all. It had instantly made Thatcher drowsy, and he’d fallen into a deep sleep on his pallet. Lukani, Violet, and I took turns watching over him to make sure he kept breathing.

Over the course of the day, with the storm still raging overhead and the tension in the room growing heavier by the second, Thatcher slept. Slowly, the color had returned to his face. His fever broke. The dark circles under his eyes faded away, and he stopped sweating.

By noon, Thatcher began snoring in his sleep, and later in the afternoon, Reigh checked his wounds again to change the bandages. Only, this time, when he removed all the gauze and dressings … there weren’t any wounds. At least, not like before. The two places where the sword had pierced his body were fully scarred over. All the redness, swelling, and inflammation were gone. It looked like an injury that had happened months ago, rather than only a few days.

Even Uncle Reigh seemed shocked, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in surprise, as he carefully examined them. I had seen him treat people with Lunthardan remedies all my life, but I guess this new potion the Mistress of the Call had given us really was a lot more potent.

Uncle Reigh insisted on being cautious, though. He explained that there had been extensive internal damage to Thatcher’s body, not just the open wounds from being stabbed through-and-through with that sword. Those were the injuries that could be far more dangerous. So, just for good measure, we left Thatcher alone to keep sleeping for as long as possible.

The time seemed to drag on like an eternity, each minute leaving me more jittery than the last. I cleaned my bow, checked each arrow, and sat quietly with Lukani while the time passed. Alone in the silence, my thoughts ran wild, flying like dragons on warm summer breezes all the way back to Maldobar. I wondered what my parents were doing right now. My siblings, too. Were they worried about me? Had they figured out where I was? Would they be angry when I came home? Or would rescuing Ronan and bringing him back with me be enough to convince them that I really did have a good reason for coming here in the first place?

Mmm. Probably not.

Closing my eyes, I let my head rest against Lukani’s shoulder and sat still, nodding in and out of sleep. Being close to him helped a little. It made things seem grounded, somehow. Wherever he was, that was reality. That was where I needed to be.

But as soon as I closed my eyes and let my body relax, dreams tugged at the edge of my mind, too blurry and distant to remember. But I could have sworn I heard a voice calling my name. Was that … Ronan?

As soon as I opened my eyes, the voice disappeared like dew in the morning sun. It left my skin chilled and my chest heavy. What if it was him? What if he was trying to reach out to me somehow? Hadn’t Dah been given dreams and visions from Paligno when he was the lapiloque? Would the same thing happen to me?

I didn’t have much time to think about all that because only a few minutes later, Thatcher finally woke up. His eyes were clear. He wasn’t shaking or weak, and all he wanted was water and as much food as we could give him. In true healer fashion, Uncle Reigh insisted on keeping his food options mild and easy to digest—just until we knew that he was fully recovered on the inside, too.

Overall, this had to be a good sign, right? A sign that things were turning around? If Thatcher really was healing that quickly, then we could get moving again. We could find Ronan and bring him home.

“We’ve only got a little while until sunset,” Uncle Reigh warned as he brushed past us and began setting out all the materials he’d gotten at the market. “We need to get ready to move. Lukani, you wanna help me get these rations sorted?”

Lukani’s warm, golden eyes flicked down to me, and he gave a faint, apologetic smile before he scooted away to help.

My stomach gave a little flutter as he let one of his hands brush mine on his way past. I nibbled at my bottom lip, hoping my face wouldn’t turn red. It was silly, wasn’t it? To get worked up over something so small? Even if I was beginning to get a little worried about him.

Out of all of us, Lukani had been the quietest over the last few days. He had stuck dutifully close to my side, even after I’d come back from that unplanned meeting with the Zenith’s Call. Never out of arm’s length. But he hardly said a word.

Before Reigh and I even left to try and find Judan, I had known he probably wanted to go with me. And honestly, I had wanted him to, as well. But I knew Violet might need help—especially if Thatcher took a turn for the worse. So, I hadn’t asked. And he hadn’t pushed the issue, either.

Now, I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen from here. I cared for Lukani. I wanted to stay close to him. I wanted us to talk, spend time together, and learn more about each other. But how was I supposed to do any of that with Uncle Reigh stomping around like an angry bull? Gods, what if he caught on to what had happened between Lukani and me? What would he say? Obviously, I doubted he would approve. But he wasn’t my dah, so it wasn’t like I needed his approval.

Right?

Ugggh. None of this made any sense. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never been in love befo—Ah! I mean, if this even was love. Was it? Fates, I didn’t know! Lukani and I hadn’t exactly had any time alone to talk about … things. Like, um, the things that had happened while we were being held in that arena.

The, uh, the kiss.

Were we even supposed to talk about it? What was there to say? Did this mean we were a couple now? Or was I assuming too much?

My mouth twisted to one side as I watched Lukani begin sorting through all the packages of rations, putting them into piles for each of us. His dark brows were set in concentration, and his bright golden eyes darted around as he worked. Of course, I thought he was handsome. He had a strong, sharp jawline, beautifully angled features, and a tall, lean, but efficiently muscled frame. His pitch-black hair was thick but impossibly smooth, and I liked how he wore it in a long braid down his back. It reminded me of how the men in Luntharda wore it. He had large, strong hands and a smooth, gentle voice, but I had seen firsthand that he could be fierce when he needed to be.

Like when he was protecting me.

The thought made more embarrassed heat tingle up my neck and over my cheeks. There was a lot to like about him—besides that he was handsome. I liked that he was quiet and thoughtful. He didn’t ramble on just to hear himself talk. He didn’t brag. He had a calm, steady, reliable presence that was easy to get comfortable with.

But could there really be something between us? Something real?

I didn’t know. And moreover, I didn’t even know who I could talk to about it. Lukani had said it was his first kiss, too. That probably meant he didn’t have any experience with these kinds of feelings, either.

I sighed and looked down at the bow resting in my hands. Too bad Auntie Garnett wasn’t here. I could have asked her. I guess I could have asked my mother, too, but that was a little embarrassing. Not to mention she would probably be too furious with me when I got back to even think about having a conversation about … um, boys.

Hmm. I wonder if I could ask Violet? I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed pretty experienced about life stuff. She was certainly good at teasing Uncle Reigh. Er, well, when they weren’t fighting like a couple of angry chickens, that is.

“Where are we supposed to meet the caravan?” Thatcher asked around another huge mouthful of porridge.

“A port city on the mainland called Esfolar. It’s the capital city, so it’ll be a lot bigger and more crowded. Because of the warning of incoming attack from Nar’Haleen, I’m also expecting it to be crawling with soldiers and guards on high alert, so I need everyone on their toes,” he said, intentionally avoiding even looking Violet’s direction as he began arranging the items in his own haversack. Somehow, that seemed like an excuse just so he didn’t have to make eye contact with her. “We’re supposed to be there at dawn. That gives us the night to travel—but don’t get excited. It’s a long way to go and we have to move by ferry. As if that’s not complicated enough, everyone else in this area who believes an attack is coming will also be trying to evacuate. The sooner we get moving, the better.”

“I don’t suppose the Mistress offered any sagely words of advice when it comes to the best routes to take?” Violet asked, her tone sharp as she kept her gaze focused down on neatly folding up her own bedroll and cramming it down into her bag.

Uncle Reigh didn’t answer right away. He sat down next to Lukani with a grunt and began doing the same thing—packing up our belongings and sorting them out into our bags. “She did,” he sighed at last. “Supposedly, she has already secured passage for us on these ferries. I guess we’ll find out.”

Violet made a huffing, snorting sound and still didn’t look up.

Not good. They couldn’t go on like this forever, could they? Sooner or later, Uncle Reigh and Violet needed to talk this out. The success of our mission might depend on it. With them still locked in some sort of bizarre, who-is-really-in-charge power struggle, any push in the wrong direction could be a total disaster. It could split up our group for good.

And if it did, I didn’t believe for a single second that we stood a chance at getting Ronan or the codex back.

* * *

Within the hour, we were on the moonlit streets of Sol’Karr once again. This time, however, we were all together, with Uncle Reigh in the lead and Violet at the very back of our group. I couldn’t tell if that was because they wanted as much distance as possible between them, or if they were at least in agreement that we should keep Thatcher in the middle of our group until we were absolutely certain he could hold his own in a fight again.

For the sake of my own sanity, I decided to assume it was the last one.

Moving fast, we kept our hoods pulled down low and made our way down toward the port again, following a lot of the same paths Uncle Reigh and I had used not long ago. Only, this time, there were a lot more people moving around out in the streets than before.

Families with children, young couples, shopkeepers, and groups of elderly city folk gathered around the front doors of buildings and homes. They worked together, moving bags and crates onto wagons or carrying them balanced on their heads and shoulders. The farther we went, the more we passed, and it seemed like they were all beginning to fill the streets and sidewalks leading down to the port.

None of them spoke much, using only hushed voices, and they didn’t seem to pay any attention to us at all. I guess to them, we looked like just another group trying to flee the city before it was too late. Maybe that would work to our advantage.

Even so, something about the empty looks of despair and resignation on all their faces gave my blood a chill. I shuddered and looked away. I didn’t remember any of the wars that had been fought in Maldobar because I hadn’t been born yet. But something deep inside my chest pulled tight, like a cord that might snap at any moment. All these people might lose their homes because of a war they had no control over. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

But there was nothing we could do about it.

And a part of me—the one that felt pulled as taut as a bowstring—absolutely hated that.

“Stay close. We’re almost there,” Uncle Reigh warned as we drew closer to the port. I could already hear the distant sounds of shouts and frustrated voices calling out.

My stomach flipped and my heartbeat quickened. The atmosphere of quiet island tranquility was completely gone now. The sense of frantic urgency, fear, and dread hung thick in the air.

Taking a final turn, my breath caught in my throat as we all stopped for a moment and stared at what lay ahead. Last night, everything here had been quiet and mostly abandoned. Now, the road before us was totally blocked with wagons, carts, and groups of people trying to reach the docks. Throngs of people were all trying to move toward crowded ships at once, where dockhands and sailors were loading cargo and arguing with people trying to make their way onboard.

“What a mess,” Violet sighed, her expression creased with worry as her crimson eyes scanned the crowds. “You’re certain the Zenith’s Call has already secured a way for us to get out of here?”

“That’s what the Mistress said.” Uncle Reigh rubbed at his chin. He glanced back at all of us, as though counting to make sure no one had gotten left behind yet. “Maybe I should—”

“—Be a bit more patient?” a familiar man’s voice spoke up behind us.

A bolt of shock surged up my spine and my body instinctively jerked, reaching for an arrow from the quiver at my back. Uncle Reigh stiffened. Violet already had a dagger out when she spun around to see who had come up behind us. Lukani took a protective step closer to my side.

Only, I knew that voice. And I was ready to swear that Uncle Reigh recognized it, too.

Strolling casually up behind us, the man who called himself Varren still wore that long, scuffed up blue coat draped over his wide shoulders. I recognized that—and his arrogant little smirk—right away. He touched his brow with two fingers and dipped his head slightly, like a small salute to Uncle Reigh, before gesturing to the rest of us. “So glad to finally meet the rest of your merry little band.”

“And you are?” Thatcher’s expression had gone cold, his eyes narrowed and posture stiffened like he expected a wrong move at any moment.

“Your escort this evening,” Varren’s grin widened. “How glad I am to see you back on your feet. You held your own against so many of Sulam’s thugs and have lived to tell the tale. No small feat, my friend. May you wear your scars with honor.”

Riiight.

Thatcher did not look honored. Shocked and slightly infuriated seemed closer, if that angry vein pulsing in the side of his neck was any indication. Not that I blamed him. The last members of the Zenith’s Call he’d met had run him through the stomach with a sword and left him for dead.

Oh boy.

“I take it you are here to escort us away from this madness?” Violet interrupted, as though she could sense this entire encounter was about to take a sour turn.

Varren looked her way, his eyes going wide for a moment. Then he glanced her over from head to foot like he was sizing her up. His dark eyes lingered on the black, braided leather whip that was fastened to her belt right at her hip—a weapon I’d never noticed her carry until now. But I guess he knew better than to start questioning any of us right now.

“I am,” he said at last. He turned on a heel and waved a hand, motioning for us to follow. “We can’t tarry here. Come along. We would do well to be as far away from this mess as possible. The port is already in an uproar, but we have our ways.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Violet murmured as she pulled her hood down lower and flicked Uncle Reigh a meaningful glare. “Let us hope they are enough.”

17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Varren led the way down backstreets and alleys, circling to the far western end of the port where a small break in the island made for a narrow pass out into deeper waters. Two garrison towers shone with huge braziers already lit for the night. The closer one was perched right on the highest peak of the main island’s tip, while the other clung to a tiny spit of rock jutting up from the sea just off the coast. The light from those two beacons sparkled over the inky black water, and revealed the shapes of many small boats bobbing along in the choppy sea. Most of them only had a lantern or two to even mark their position, but all seemed to be loaded down with other people trying to flee this place.

The sight made my stomach churn sourly. I nibbled at my bottom lip. Were we going in a little boat like that? It didn’t seem all that safe. But then again, maybe this passage was too narrow or dangerous for the larger ships to use?

“We’re not going through Banaris?” Violet protested as Varren began to walk us down the much less crowded dock to where other small dinghy-style boats were moored on rickety piers.

“Not if we can help it. The main flow of refugee traffic is going that way, headed for Malis,” he explained, offering me a hand and a playful wink as we stopped before a small, patched-together staircase that led down almost to the water itself. There, hidden by the sheer white rock cliffs and shadows thrown from the garrison’s beacon, the entrance to a narrow sea cave led back inland, underneath the island.

I hesitated at that entryway, waiting with Uncle Reigh for the rest of our group to catch up. Leaning in a little, I dared to peek into the utter darkness of that cave. Without any light, though, I couldn’t make out any details inside. It stank sort of like old, rotting fish, and the walls felt slimy when I dared to touch them.

Creepy. Why were we going in there?

“Hurry on, no time to waste. This cavern entrance will be back underwater when the tide changes, and I’d rather not swim it, if it’s all the same to you,” Varren urged as he pulled a small metal lantern from somewhere in his coat. It only took him a few seconds to light it, and he fiddled with an arrangement of small mirrors inside that seemed to make the light more focused and intense. Interesting. I’d never seen one like that before.

We trekked on by the light of Varren’s weird lantern, navigating the wobbly, slimy, barnacle-encrusted walkway that twisted and wound through the sea cave. My boots slipped on the slick boards that creaked and groaned under our weight, like they might suddenly give way at any moment. The farther we went, the more that salty, fishy smell intensified, and the more I wondered if this was walking us straight into a trap. Uncle Reigh trusted this guy, sure, but I wasn’t quite sold on him. After all, he’d put a knife to the neck of someone I cared about. I owed him at least one arrow for that, didn’t I? Not like a deadly one. Just a flesh wound. Maybe in the leg.

“The plan is simple,” Varren said as he held his strange lantern higher so the light poured over the slippery walkway ahead. “From here, you go to Kosaar, then onto a larger ship destined for Soman Taal. From there, you can take the Great Bay Road all the way to Esfolar, and meet your caravan on the east side of the city.”

“I thought Soman Taal considered itself a Damarian city,” Violet asked, stumbling and catching herself against the slimy wall to our left. I noticed Uncle Reigh jerk in her direction, almost like he intended to reach out and catch her if she fell all the way down. Thankfully, she didn’t.

Violet spat a few words that must have been curses in Sokraal as she steadied herself and continued on. Hmmm. No one had ever taught me those. I decided I’d file them away for later … just in case.

“In a few hours, it won’t matter, I’m afraid. We have good information from our agents stationed along the eastern coast that there is a mighty fleet from Nar’Haleen headed right here, and I doubt very much they’ve come all this way with so many warships to chat about the weather,” Varren said.

“Yeah,” Reigh murmured. “We heard something similar.”

Varren didn’t seem surprised and shook his head sadly. “We aren’t sure if they will withhold an attack and send in demands for peaceful surrender, or not. One would hope so, of course. But the emperor has become very unpredictable, and the acquisition of Red Duchess as his flagship has bolstered his confidence, as well as his reckless disregard for sparing the lives of the common folk who will be caught in the crossfire.”

“The Red Duchess?” Uncle Reigh stopped him. “Wait—wait. Don’t tell me. It’s another one of those big pirate ships, isn’t it?”

Varren’s face lit with a mischievous, knowing smile. “So, you’ve heard of her?”

“No. Just a had a feeling,” Uncle Reigh grumbled as he trudged on. “An awful, nauseating feeling.”

“It is the counterpart to the Squall Queen. The second ship that sails with a drakkon’s bond forged into its hull,” Violet explained, her tone hushed and almost reverent. “Does the Zenith’s Call truly believe they will use her to attack the cities here?”

“I don’t know,” Varren admitted, his voice softer as his smile faded. “We pray not, of course. Such a thing has never been done, even under the command of the Skyharts. But as I said before, the emperor has grown unpredictable.”

No one else spoke as the atmosphere grew heavy, and I had a feeling we were all probably thinking about the same thing. What, by all the gods, would happen to this place if the Nar’Haleenan military did decide to use a ship like that against regular people? The thought put a pang of cold dread in my stomach, and made all my fingers and toes curl with that deep, jittery urge to get as far away as possible from here.

A warm, strong hand closed around mine. I flinched, then looked up into the worried, golden-hued gaze of Lukani. He tipped his head to one side slightly, wiggling his long, pointed ears a little like a curious puppy. It was as though I could hear him ask, “Are you okay?” without the words ever leaving his lips.

I tried to force a smile, but it probably looked more like I was trying not to gag. I bobbed my head once, just in case he didn’t get it. I was fine. But I’d be a lot better once we got out of here.

He laced his fingers through mine, and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. My heart fluttered with a little tingle of anxiety, half because I was terrified someone—Uncle Reigh—would notice, and half because … well, I wasn’t sure. Excitement, maybe?

“There!” Varren called out suddenly, lifting his lantern higher and revealing another narrow gap in the rock ahead. The night sky glittered over foaming surf beyond that opening, and the rickety wooden walkway stopped abruptly. Tethered to the very end of it, a trio of those bizarre, swimming, horse-like creatures watched us approach with their brilliant blue and purple eyes wide and their colorful fins flared. They stirred and blew heavy snorts of salty water from their noses as we drew close.

I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of their brilliant, silvery scales that flashed with vibrant colors, even if I’d already seen others before. Hippocampi were as common as horses here, but I’d never seen one in Maldobar before. Perhaps the water in my homeland was too cold for them? Whatever the case, the thought of getting to ride one again made my heartbeat thrill.

An elderly man in a heavy dark cloak crouched on the flimsy wooden walkway beside them, and stood up as soon as he noticed our approach. He stepped forward, exchanging hushed words and a handshake with Verran—who handed off a small bag of something that I suspected might be coins—before hobbling past us back in the direction we’d come.

“Now, then. You will have to double-up, of course. But that shouldn’t be a problem. These will carry you far faster than a boat or ferry,” Verran assured. “They’re also far more discreet. I take it you all know how to ride?”

“More or less,” Uncle Reigh huffed as he reached into the hood of his cloak and peeled his tiny, angry little green dragoness from her cozy hiding spot. She hissed and flapped until he let her go, then fluttered over to land on Thatcher’s shoulder instead.

“Traitor,” he muttered as he started fastening his bag to the nearest of the hippocampi.

Varren stood by, looking on as we all hedged toward our mounts and handed off our wares. All the while, he shifted his weight and studied us carefully, one at a time, almost like there was something he wanted to say. “Good. Very good. Seems you know what you’re doing,” he said quietly. “You’ll need to take them to the inlet on the north point of Kosaar. There’s someone waiting there to receive you and guide you on from there. Look for the blue lantern.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Thatcher still sounded suspicious as he handed his bag off to Uncle Reigh to tie onto the next hippocampi in line.

Varren stepped back, watching with a tense, uncertain expression. His lips thinned right before he forced another weak smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Unfortunately, no,” he replied with a shrug. “There’s work yet to be done, even with demons knocking on our door. But I wish you lot well. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday.”

After tying down the rest of our bags, Uncle Reigh finally turned to face him. His expression grew tense, seeming to pick up on that uncomfortable reluctance in Varren’s demeanor. And for the briefest instant, I could have sworn I saw sympathy, deep and genuine, in Uncle Reigh’s’ eyes. I didn’t understand it. Was something else going on? Did Uncle Reigh know something about what might happen to this man that I didn’t?

I didn’t dare to ask.

“Go safely. If you ever find yourself in Maldobar, I’d be more than happy to buy you an ale in thanks for your help,” Uncle Reigh offered. “Gods keep you.”

“Do they ever?” Varren chuckled weakly. Once again, his smile never reached his dark eyes. He nodded stiffly, as though he were having to force himself to leave, and gave a small bow before turning away to leave the same way we’d come in.

We all stood still, not saying a word, watching as Varren’s tall figure retreated farther and farther out of sight down the walkway. Somehow, it felt like watching him walk to his own doom. But why? I didn’t have any real reason to worry, did I? No. No way. The night beyond the opening of that sea cave seemed so quiet and beautiful, with the dark sky alight with thousands of stars.

Still, I couldn’t shake that shivering feeling that trailed up my spine like cold fingertips. A feeling that something wasn’t right.

I just didn’t know what.

* * *

“Okay, let’s try to stay together and keep a low profile,” Uncle Reigh urged as we all slipped into place on our hippocampi mounts.

Lukani and I shared one, Thatcher and Violet took the second, and he sat astride the third with the majority of our traveling bags strapped down to the back of his saddle. “Everyone good to go?”

Thatcher gave him a hand signal I recognized—something the dragonriders like my dah used to communicate in the air. Dah and his friends used it sometimes when they wanted to say things in front of the little ones that they wouldn’t be able to understand. It’d worked on me too, sadly. But now I knew what they were doing, even if I still didn’t understand it fully. Using that code of hand signals was probably habit for Thatcher by now.

Lukani gave a thumb’s up as he settled into the saddle behind me, wrapping his arms around me to hold the reins. He sat so close that his chest pressed against my back, and he leaned down to whisper right against my ear, “Hold on tightly.”

My stomach gave another frantic little flutter of excitement. Great. I kept my head down when my face started to burn again. Why did that keep happening now? Would it always be that way? Or would I eventually get used to him being so close?

Part of me … sort of hoped not. That tingling feeling that made my pulse skip, like buzzing under my skin, was weird and embarrassing. But he was the only person who had ever made me feel it. I didn’t want it to fade away.

With a flash of colorful fins and splashes of foaming sea spray, we darted out of the tiny hidden sea cave and headed for open water. Apparently, that smelly cavern had taken us underneath and all the way to the back of the island. Here, I could see the massive shadowy shapes of the other small islands, sea arches, and towering columns of rock clustered around. Most of them had at least a few specks of light shining against the dark of the night. Lights from houses and villages? I couldn’t tell—not with the sea spray stinging my eyes and the wind blowing my hair into my face as we zipped through the waves.

Uncle Reigh took the lead at first, but quickly motioned for Thatcher and Violet to take over once we turned southward. I guess we were counting on Violet to know where we were actually going. Keeping in close to the rest of our group, we followed along at the very back. I kept my head down as much as possible, shielding my face from the wind as our mounts picked up speed. We skimmed the choppy waves and made our way through the night without a hitch.

At first, it seemed like we might be the first ones to actually leave the large port island of Sol’Karr. But only minutes after we had slipped off across dark water, I spotted others making their way along the wider channels. Ships—dozens and dozens of them. Some were larger vessels, and I noticed several about the size of our former Fog Dancer. Others were simple dinghies, little fishing boats, and long barges towed by more hippocampi. The only thing they all had in common, besides heading eastward away from the islands and deeper into the bay, was that each one of those vessels was loaded down with passengers.

Even from a distance, I could see them clustered together on the decks, holding lanterns and torches. We were too far away to see much detail, though. Not that it mattered. I didn’t need to see them up close to know who they were.

They were others, like us, just trying to get away to somewhere safe before it was too late.

18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Violet must have known it was better if we steered clear of all the traffic. Nothing good could come from being caught up in a crowd like that.

After what felt like a miserable eternity of battling the strong currents that flowed like an invisible web between all these fragments of islands, our mounts began to tire and their pace slowed. Our hippocampi struggled; their nostrils flared as they heaved for breath and shook their heads, their lithe bodies wriggling like they wanted to be free of our weight. They wouldn’t be able to carry us for much longer. We couldn’t stop, though.

I shivered, curling back against the warmth of Lukani’s chest as the sea spray soaked through my clothes and drenched my cloak. My boots would definitely be sloshing after this. So much for needing to be stealthy.

The island of Kosaar was much smaller than the one we’d left behind. It was also much taller, rising farther above the ocean like an arching mountaintop covered in steep wall faces, thick jungle, and clusters of twinkling lights that must have been villages. The shoreline wasn’t nearly as steep as it had been in Sol’Karr, and there were broad, sandy beaches with long piers and manmade jetties made of stacked volcanic boulders.

I could only spot one, chilling similarity to our previous island haven—the stream of ships and people trying to leave it. It put a knot in the pit of my stomach as Violet guided us around the island, just far enough offshore that we didn’t get caught up in the traffic leaving from all the small ports along the beach.

Finally, beyond an especially large jetty topped with white stone buildings on the northernmost tip of the island, an inlet opened to what looked like a more residential port filled mostly with fishing vessels. All of them were alight with activity, torches, and people filing aboard. But at the very end, a shadowed figure stood alone in a long dark cloak, holding up a lantern that glowed with an eerie bluish light.

A shaky breath leaked past my lips. Varren hadn’t been bluffing. The Zenith’s Call really had made arrangements for us to get out of here safely. And so far, it was all going to plan. A rare treat, especially given how things had gone for us on this mission so far.

Maybe we’d get through this without another disaster.

Ehhh. Probably not.

Violet led the way up to the end of the dock, right to where the cloaked figure stood waiting. Only after we’d sidled up to dismount and unload our gear, did the figure move at all. They stepped closer, holding the lantern higher, so the blue glow fell over their features and gave us a better look at what we were doing.

A middle-aged woman’s stern face gazed down at us from underneath the heavy hood, her amber-gold eyes keen and critical as she watched. She didn’t say a word until we had finished unloading and belting on our packs and gear again, leaving the hippocampi tied to the dock.

“There is not much time. Come quickly and speak to no one,” she ordered sharply, her tone thick with a Damarian accent.

We obliged. With Violet still leading our group, and Uncle Reigh bringing up the rear, we followed the woman with the blue lantern away from the docks and into the narrow, twisting streets of the island. Here, the smell of the rich jungle soil and many flowering trees and plants filled the air and reminded me of Luntharda. The roads seemed to bend and move with the land, rather that being cut into it like on Sol’Karr, and we wound a path all the way around the eastern shore until we reached a point where a majestic overlook offered a view off to the south.

My breath caught at the sight of a massive stone bridge that arced over the ocean, bridging the main body of Kosaar and a much smaller island close by. The bridge itself stood so tall ships could easily sail beneath it, and the smooth surface of its pearly white stone shone in the ambient glow of star and torchlight. The sides had been carved in the shape of two hippocampi, their long fishlike tails rippling and finally meeting in the middle of the structure. Crowds of people moved like a stream of winking, bobbing stars across it.

“Take this road to the bridge,” the woman commanded, turning abruptly to me and holding something out like she wanted me to take it. “Look for the ship called Sea Cat. It’s a fishing vessel. Show the captain this, and you will be allowed onboard. But you must hurry. They will depart very soon, with or without you.”

Peering into her open palm, I studied the large silver coin she offered. The side I could see had the emblem of the Zenith’s Call carved into it—a crescent moon with a sword through it. I managed to nod as I took the coin and tucked it quickly into my pocket.

“Keep that talisman with you, as it may afford you the Call’s help in the future,” she advised as she licked her fingers and reached swiftly into her lantern to douse the flickering blue-tinted flame. “But I would warn you not to use it lightly.”

“Understood,” Uncle Reigh said. “Thank you.”

The woman flashed him a curious glance out of the corner of her eye, almost like she wasn’t sure why he would thank her at all. But she didn’t say another word as she turned and left back down the road, departing in much the same the same way Varren had. Strange. These people came and went like the wind, vanishing like shadows into the night, and following orders better than some well-trained soldiers did at home.

Part of me sort of envied that. Their sense of duty, that is. I wondered if that was what had appealed to Auntie Garnett and Violet when it came to working for Arlan the Kinslayer. Was his organization this disciplined, too? Probably, based on what little I had seen. Violet seemed very efficient and calculative in her movements, anyway. Like a lioness on the hunt, she always moved with a cautious purpose. In some ways, she reminded me of Uncle Murdoc, but with way better social skills.

Er, well, unless it came to dealing with Uncle Reigh, I guess. Oops. I guess something about him set her off differently. He had that effect on lots of people, though. Sort of like stepping on a pinecone you didn’t know was hidden in the grass. Most of us were just used to it. He was basically all bark when it came to that fiery temper of his. Deep down, I knew Uncle Reigh was a huge softy. I’d seen how he baby-talked to that dragon of his when he thought no one was looking.

Embarrassing.

No one spoke as we struck off down the road, walking fast and making our way closer and closer to the massive, white stone bridge. We didn’t pass many others on the road, and the uneven cobblestones left the bottoms of my feet sore by the time we finally reached an intersection with a larger avenue. That one seemed to lead right to our destination, and there were more people moving along it with carts, wagons, and heavy packs loaded down with everything from babies and bedrolls to chairs and cages of chickens. One wagon even had a string of goats tied behind it like ducklings in a row.

No one even looked our way as we fell in step with the crowd, clustering together, and keeping our heads down and hoods up. Lukani was the only one I was really worried about when it came to getting negative attention. Several people had warned us about how his people, the Rajinna, were treated here. We had already experienced some of that firsthand on the pirate ships, and I wasn’t eager to see that happen again anytime soon. He could have shapeshifted into an animal again, but Violet had urged him to save his magic in case we needed it in an emergency. So, instead of riding on my shoulder as a mouse or a crow, he had opted to tuck his tail down into his pant leg and keep his head down to hide his greenish complexion.

I guess it was working because no one had even given him a second glance. It probably helped that most people—including us—were much more focused on trying to flee the islands than studying anyone’s face.

The closer we got to the bridge, the larger it seemed. It wasn’t just some simple structure used to bridge these two islands. It was a monument that had probably taken decades to carve and set in place. I couldn’t keep my mouth from hanging open as we began to cross, passing by lines of city guards in full regimental armor who must have been posted for crowd control. They looked on with stern expressions, holding torches and spears, but not talking to anyone.

My heartbeat skipped and stammered when one of them locked gazes with me for an instant, and I felt the full weight of my bow and quiver belted across my back. Fortunately, a second later, he looked on and didn’t seem interested in who I was at all.

Whew.

The entire bridge spanned probably a half a mile from one end to the other, but crossing it forced all those crowds filtering in from the streets around the island into a bottleneck. It brought traffic to a crawl, and even though we were on foot, we got stuck in the dense group of people right away. With everyone bumping along shoulder-to-shoulder, Uncle Reigh turned and motioned to Thatcher in that hand-code again.

Thatcher answered him, his hands blurring through the gestures, before he whispered back to us. “Keep together in a line, and hold on to each other’s packs.”

Violet, Lukani, and I nodded and planted our hands on each other’s backs, sort of like that string of goats we’d passed earlier. It kept us within arm’s length of one another as we snaked through the crowd, dodging and weaving through other groups and past the line of carts and wagons.

I tried not to look at anyone, but my gaze caught on the haunted faces of children and young mothers cradling babies. I’d never seen fear like the kind that shone in their wide eyes. It made that knot in my stomach tighten and twist until I wanted to throw up. My hold on Lukani’s bag tightened. These people were being forced to leave everything they knew behind. And for what? An Emperor’s pride?

I clenched my teeth and bowed my head lower. Tears welled in my eyes and I tried not to look at them anymore.

Dah had always said that wars were selfish things that often caused the least fortunate to suffer the most. I’d never understood what he meant by that before. Wars seemed so necessary, especially when someone else was in the wrong. Now … it was all too clear. And it stung at my heart like I’d swallowed a fistful of needles.

I had seen and done a lot of unsavory things since I left my home, but I knew I would remember these faces forever.

* * *

By the time we finally reached the midpoint of the bridge, the crowd had come to a complete standstill. I guess there was only so much room on that smaller island, and they could only get people onto the boats there so fast. There was bound to be a delay.

Only, we didn’t have time for a delay. Our ship might leave without us, and then we would be stranded here. We might miss the caravan altogether. Somehow, we had to get to our ship—now.

“This isn’t going to work,” Uncle Reigh grumbled bitterly as he turned back to face us, his jaw tense and brow locked into a frustrated scowl. “We’ll never get there in time.”

Lukani began to raise his hand like he was volunteering. “I-I could—”

“NO,” we all growled at once. No way were we going to risk him exposing his magic right here in front of all these people, who might attack him just for being Rajinna. Nope. Not going to happen.

“You have a better idea, then?” Lukani countered, his voice edged with annoyance as he crossed his arms.

We didn’t.

And an instant later … it didn’t matter.

BOOOM!

An explosion burst through the air with a force that hit my body like a punch to the chest. I was instantly thrown forward as the whole bridge shook violently. My vision swerved and spotted as I landed on my hands and knees, my ears ringing with the muffled sounds of screams, shrieks, and shouts all around me.

Wh-What was happening? Was it an earthquake?

CRAAACK!

The solid white stone of the bridge splintered with a web of cracks that spread out beneath me. O-Oh gods. Was the bridge collapsing?!

Up! I had to get up!

Shambling to my feet, I squinted through the tangled, panicking mass of people all scrambling around me. They stepped on my cloak and kicked my side as they ran past, all pushing and panicking. I screamed when someone stepped on my hand and curled back into a ball, trying to cover my head. Trampled—I’d be trampled to death!

“MAYLEA!” A deep familiar voice shouted over me like a crack of thunder. “Get away from her! I said GET OFF!”

People flew away from me, shoved aside like straw practice dummies as they tried running over me. Then a strong hand seized my arm and dragged me upright with one powerful yank. I gasped and wheezed, still trying to get my vision to clear as I stared in numb, paralyzed shock into Thatcher’s snarling face.

“Are you alright?” he shouted over the chaos.

I-I didn’t know. Fates, what was happening? I managed to nod shakily, and opened my mouth to ask where Lukani and the others were—but I didn’t get a single word out.

BOOOM!

The bridge shook again, knocking me into Thatcher’s side. He snagged an arm around my shoulders and held me tightly against his chest, holding onto the bridge’s stone railing with his other hand so we didn’t fall again. “Hang on!” he yelled.

I tried. The crowds battered against us as they ran in all directions. Held tight against Thatcher, I searched all around for faces I recognized. Uncle Reigh? Lukani? Violet? I-I couldn’t see them anywhere. With a shriek of panic, Vexi took flight from Thatcher’s shoulder and disappeared, flapping away into the dark like a scaly green bat.

A sudden burst of light bloomed in the night, filling the horizon with the scarlet glow of fire. The island—Kosaar—was burning!

My heart immediately dropped to the soles of my boots. My knees threatened to buckle as my gaze caught on a cluster of dark shapes floating in the water less than a thousand yards from shore.

“Look!” I yanked on Thatcher’s sleeve as hard as I could.

With all their lamps and cabin lights unlit, the host of black warships were nearly invisible in the night until their second blast of unified cannon fire lit up the dark. Gods and Fates, there must have been twenty of them! Sleek and bristling with gun ports down each side, the Nar’Haleenan warships slipped effortlessly through the dark water, shifting formation as quickly as a flock of blackbirds.

BOOM!

In the distance, another thunderous explosion lit up the night. Another island began to burn.

Then another.

And another.

Tears filled my eyes. I screamed. Then, all at once, the breath was snatched from my lungs. My eyes widened as I stood, utterly paralyzed, staring at the arcing, serpentine body of something enormous breaching the surface of the water right in front of our bridge. I knew what it was—even before I saw its massive head break the surface again just long enough to consider us with one, gigantic, wagon-wheel sized eye.

A drakkon.

It looked almost exactly like the one that we had seen swimming around the Squall Queen. But instead of scales of blue and yellow, this one was as red as fresh blood, with stripes of lime green, and frilled fins of rich purple. Its massive body coiled and arced in the water, big enough to sink a ship with a mere flick of its tail.

It wasn’t focused on the ships, though.

Everything seemed to stand still, like the whole world had frozen around me, as the drakkon rose up in the water and latched its clawed front legs onto the bridge. The beast’s huge talons cracked through the stone bridge, sending huge chunks of it to the ocean floor. It opened its huge jaws and hissed down at the crowds still scrambling to get away like caught mice.

Then its throat began to swell and balloon up as its head coiled back, almost like a dragon preparing to breathe fire. Only … that wasn’t possible, was it? Sea beasts wouldn’t breathe fire, would they?

The drakkon’s mouth opened wide with a furious screech right before it spat a river of dark purple liquid all over the bridge. The substance spattered across the white stone with an immediate hiss. A sickly, acrid smell filled the air like burning hair. The stone immediately began to bubble and foam as it melted.

Gods and Fates it was … acid.

Screams and wails filled the night. People ran, crawled, and staggered over one another in every direction to get away. More began jumping off the bridge, their screams fading away as they fell to the churning ocean below.

The drakkon let out deep, rumbling, popping sound and swung its head around, watching everyone flee before it like ants off a log. His huge eyes blinked, fins flaring as it swung its head directly toward us. Its throat began to swell up again, like it was preparing to spit another river of acid.

O-Oh … Oh gods.

Thatcher squeezed me harder as we both stared, frozen in terror. We … we had to run. To try to get away before that thing bathed the whole bridge in acid.

But where would we go? The islands were burning. There was no safe place. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

We were trapped.

“Stay close to me!” Thatcher shouted suddenly, letting me go and thrusting his hand upward to the open sky. The rings of his eyes ignited, burning vibrant gold as the wind whipped up around us.

WHOOSH!

The drakkon spat another avalanche of boiling, sticky purple acid right toward us. It popped and sizzled as it hit Thatcher’s shield of crackling golden energy. But not a single drop made it through.

Thatcher groaned through his teeth, widening his stance. His strong shoulders flexed as he leaned into the gesture, standing with his hands outstretched overhead and his palms glowing like molten metal. “I can’t hold it for long,” he warned. “Get ready to run!”

Run? Run where?!

Tears ran down my face. I wanted to hide, but I couldn’t look away. A single word rose up from within me, a cry for help I’d sworn I wouldn’t speak out loud.

But I couldn’t help it.

I wanted him. I needed him.

I couldn’t do this on my own.

I needed …

“DAH!!” I cried his name at the top of my lungs.

A shrieking call split the sky overhead like the screech of an eagle rising over the rumble, crash, and boom of battle all around us. Thatcher and I looked over at the same time—just in time to spot the glimmer of firelight catching over translucent wings and mirror-like scales. A shrike? At first, I couldn’t tell through the wavering energy of Thatcher’s shield.

His brilliant yellow eyes were fixed on me with purpose, zooming straight for us through the falling debris and skimming the crowds.

My heart hit the back of my throat.

O-Oh! Oh, gods! I knew that shrike!

“LUKANI!” I screamed.

He gave an answering roar, already flaring his wings and stretching out his clawed front legs.

A sudden wave of determined fury took my mind like a firestorm. This was it. I could feel it like the weight of heavy armor falling over my shoulders. This was the moment I’d been waiting for—the one I had been training for my whole life. I was scared. Terrified, actually. But that didn’t matter. My friends needed my help.

And I would fight for them.

“Drop the shield,” I shouted to Thatcher as I pushed away.

“What?!” he began to protest.

“DO IT!” I demanded. “I’ll meet you at the ship!”

He didn’t answer, but his dome-shaped shield of shimmering golden light suddenly burst like a soap bubble. It sent glittering sparks showering through the air around me as I bolted for the edge of the bridge—straight into Lukani’s flight path. It was a steep drop. Probably fifty feet or more to nothing but dark water below. But I didn’t hesitate. Lukani always had my back.

I jumped into the open air without ever looking back.

PART FIVE

REIGH

19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

BOOOM!!

A sound like thunder split the sky and lit up the night with a fiery explosion. In an instant, it was total chaos.

Attack—we were under attack!

The bridge cracked like a dried-out twig under my boots, shuddering and nearly knocking me to my knees. Gods and Fates, what the heck was happening?

People ran screaming, trampling over one another, clawing, fighting, and flailing to get away. They swept over me like a roaring landslide, pummeling me on every side. Flinging a hand out, I let out a cry as I caught the side of wagon and managed to drag my body against the current of people. I huddled there, searching the terrified faces of the townspeople. But through the floundering, scrambling crowds, I couldn’t see any of them. Not Thatcher, Maylea, Lukani, or—

“REIGH!” Violet’s voice screamed suddenly off to my left.

I whirled around, spotting a familiar ripple of white hair getting swept away into the rushing mobs that all pushed toward the opposite ends of the bridge all at once.

Curse it! I wasn’t going to lose everyone like this!

Letting go of the wagon, I shoved and fought my way through the desperate crowds, flinging a hand out at the last second to catch Violet by the wrist. Her hand immediately clasped onto my forearm, gripping me like a lifeline.

I dragged her in closer, yanking her from the roiling tide of panicked townsfolk. Her wide, terrified scarlet eyes stared up at me with a little blood dribbling from a fresh cut across her forehead. I guess she’d taken more of the impact, or been knocked to the ground.

“Are you alright? Where are the others?!” I yelled over the chaos.

She just stared back at me blankly, eyes wide and face pale, as though she were in shock.

Not good.

Fates, we had to get out of this nightmare. We had to get to shore—preferably to that smaller island where our ship was waiting.

But where was the rest of our group?

“Stay close to me!” I shouted again, keeping my hold on Violet’s arm and beginning to drag her behind me through the masses. I shouted for the others, searching the terrified crowds around me for any sign of Thatcher, Maylea, or Lukani.

I winced, snarling a curse as something sharp poked at the back of my shoulder. Reaching back, I grabbed a fistful of scales. Vexi?! My tiny dragoness gave a crowing shriek and hiss of dismay, and I immediately let her go. Well, at least I hadn’t lost her, too. Gods, what I wouldn’t give for her to be her full size again. That would have solved a whole constellation of problems.

Time to make do. My specialty.

Pulling Violet in closer, I grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her right in front of me, holding her there and shouting down into her ear so I knew she would hear me, “We’re going to the shore! Do whatever you have to—just get there! If we get separated, meet at the ship!”

Violet’s haunted, wide-eyed expression suddenly snapped into a smoldering glare of determination. Her eyes narrowed, lips pressing together tightly, and she nodded.

Good girl.

I let her go.

The second her shoulders slipped from my fingers, the bridge shuddered under our feet. I staggered again. Only a few steps ahead of me, a much larger man shoved Violet out of his path as he ran by. She staggered back, hitting my chest and nearly knocking me backward, too. A new chorus of horrified screams pierced the air. We both turned in unison, just in time to see the monstrous head of an all-too-familiar sea monster rise up from the depths behind us.

Oh … gods.

All the breath rushed out of me at once. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. Every muscle locked up solid as stone as I stared up into the giant eye of a drakkon. Not the same one as before—so that must mean …

WHOOOOSH!

The gargantuan monster spat a torrent of a dark purple liquid, splashing it over the bridge before us. Immediately, the air was filled with a rancid stench. It reminded me a little of shrike venom. The stone melted away as the purplish ooze turned anything it touched into nothing but goo. It sent large pieces of the bridge and dozens of people plummeting fifty feet to the dark, churning water below.

Was that acid?!

Violet screamed, pitching around wildly all of a sudden. She flung one of her arms around like it was on fire. Gods! Some of it had splashed onto her leather bracer, and was quickly melting through it.

I dove for her, gritting my teeth and snatching a dagger from my belt. I grabbed her arm at the elbow and ran my blade along the seam of her bracer, cutting all the leather straps that held it in place and letting it fall. It hit the ground with a smack and a hiss, melting into a puddle of sludge.

There wasn’t time for any words of thanks, though. The drakkon heaved in another breath, as though preparing for a second wave of acid.

“RUN!” I yelled, and dragged Violet forward. We wouldn’t make it far. I knew that. But we just had to reach it—the one place I could see to take cover.

WHOOOOSH!

A second wave of acid poured over the bridge, and we dove together under a wagon left abandoned on the bridge. I immediately threw my body over hers, just in case any acid splashed up underneath.

A fresh cacophony of screams tore through the night. People wailed in pain. The smell of burning flesh made my stomach turn. I shut my eyes tightly, and waited for the pain.

CRAAAACK!

The ground under us shifted dangerously. The stone splintered like a broken eggshell. The wagon on top of us began rolling as the area on the bridge where we crouched tilted dangerously. Oh gods, it was breaking off! We were going to fall!

“CRAWL! GO!” I panicked and reached down, grabbing Violet’s belt and dragging her up in front of me again. “HURRY!”

As the wagon rolled backward, we scrambled forward on our hands and knees to get out. The stone cracked and groaned, tipping slowly toward the churning sea. We were almost out. We could make it. We’d find a way to shore and then—

Something throttled me from behind, snatching me to a halt. I grabbed at my neck, finding the collar of my cloak pulled tight. Caught. I-It was caught on something! I twisted and gasped, trying to get free as I was dragged backward. I barely caught a glimpse of the other end of my cloak, twisted up in the wagon wheel, as it slowly rolled back.

I tried to call out. To scream for help. But I couldn’t get a breath. And Violet didn’t see me. She still crawled forward furiously, scrambling to get to solid ground as the bridge around us began to buckle and break apart.

But I couldn’t get free.

M-My knife. I’d just had it. I must have dropped it. If I could find it, I could cut my cloak. It had to be on the ground somewhere nearby.

There!

I spotted it lying only a few feet away. Stretching my hand, I tried to grab it. Just a little farther. An inch. I could get it. I had to!

CRAAAACK!

With a violent jolt, the slab of bridge beneath me gave way.

I fell.

The broken edge of the bridge slipped away as I plummeted, my cloak still tangled up in the wagon wheel, down toward the dark depths of the ocean far below.

* * *

I was no stranger to violence and gore. I’d been tangled up in the most brutal war Maldobar had ever seen when I was only seventeen. I’d been responsible for unspeakable carnage. I’d held the power of death itself in my hands. But as I hit the water, dragged beneath the surface farther and farther into the cold depths, I couldn’t remember a time when I had ever been more terrified.

Or sure that I was going to die.

Bodies hung in the dark water around me, falling to the abyss, or kicking and trying to swim away from it. Flashes of fire lit up the sky beyond the surface that slipped farther and farther away. Huge pieces of the bridge splashed down around me, sinking faster like massive stone moons down into the dark.

One plummeted right past, nearly hitting me and smashing into the wagon that was still dragging me down, deeper and deeper. My ears popped. My lungs spasmed. My vision began to grow dim. Where was the surface? I couldn’t tell which way was up or down. My arms and legs grew heavy.

I had to do something. I couldn’t … I needed … I-I …

“There you are, brother. In trouble once again, I see. Some things never change, do they?” A hissing voice pierced my mind like a white-hot spike. “Didn’t I tell you before? We’re running out of time. Now just look at this mess. All because you’re still in denial.”

I couldn’t see him. But I didn’t need to. His voice curled through my head like a poisonous smoke, filling my every thought.

Noh.

“This is the final warning. Your last chance. Complete the rite. There is much work to be done,” he snarled, each word as sharp as a dagger’s point in my brain. “Rise and remember our place.”

My eyes flew open as my whole body spasmed again. I coughed a burst of bubbles into the dark as a rush of sudden strength burned through every muscle, drawing my body tense all at once. There wasn’t time to question it. I only had seconds now. I kicked downward with all my might, swimming along with the speed of the wagon until I felt the neck of my cloak go slack. I yanked it over my head and swam downward, hanging in the water for a moment as I watched the wagon continue to sink farther and farther away.

Then it was gone—lost to the ocean depths below.

I kicked for the surface, swimming as hard as I could as my lungs began to ache, like a washrag twisted in someone’s fist. Far overhead, the rippling red of the surface seemed so far away. My vision tunneled again. My chest shuddered. But I didn’t stop.

Curse it all, I was not going to die here.

I broke the surface with a desperate, sputtering gasp. My arms and legs still felt heavy and sluggish as I treaded water, trying to figure out where the heck I was. Somewhere under the remains of the bridge, obviously, but I needed to find the shore.

Vexi let out a tiny shriek of alarm as she circled me in the air, puffing tiny plumes of fire as though to warn off anyone from getting too close to me. Heh. Well, it was a nice thought, anyway.

A huge black shape slid past me over the water barely fifty yards away, soundless and almost featureless. But I knew the outline of it against the glow of fire on the islands. A ship—big and bristling with cannons. The sails on all three of its masts puffed full in the night wind, speeding it along as fast and silent as a shadow over the water.

A Nar’Haleenan warship.

It wasn’t alone, though. There were more everywhere I looked, moving in perfect synchronization to form firing lines at the islands and line of fleeing boats. They angled themselves broadside, and then with a deep, concussive BOOOM—they fired all at once.

Gods and Fates. Those fleeing Rienkan ships were full of innocent civilians, not soldiers. This wasn’t war. This was slaughter.

I bit down hard against the anger that burned like cinders on my tongue. I had seen this kind of cruelty before, and I had helped to defeat it.

I could do it again.

I … wanted to.

A screeching roar overhead drew my gaze upward to the glint of red flame catching off mirror-like scales. What the—?

My heart hit my throat like I’d been punched as the graceful silhouette of a leanly-scaled body with six powerful legs, translucent wings, and a long whipping tail zoomed past. Sweet Fates. That was a shrike, wasn’t it? It had to be. What was a shrike doing down here? As far as I knew, they only lived in Luntharda. There was no mistaking that piercing cry, though.

Then I caught a glimpse of its face—and bright yellow eyes. Was that Lukani? Oh, gods. It was!

And the petite, dark-haired girl riding on its back with her bow fully drawn looked a lot like …

Maylea?!

I couldn’t decide if I should be relieved or furious as I watched her zoom by, sitting astride Lukani’s shrike-form, buzzing low just over the surface of the water. She was alive, at least. But as I watched her zip across the water, darting straight toward the coiling, writhing, acid-breathing behemoth that was still attacking the bridge, I wasn’t sure how long that would last.

The monster turned its huge head to consider her as she drew back an arrow. The tip glowed like a brilliant green star in the night, the same color as the pendant that gleamed around her neck. With her dark hair blowing like a black satin flag behind her, she took aim and fired.

The arrow blurred through the night like a comet, glowing brighter and brighter, until it struck the monster in the side of the head with a blinding flash.

What the—? What was that?!

The drakkon bellowed in fury, reeling from the hit. It pushed away from the bridge and dove underwater, the side of its head still smoking from the impact of that magical arrow.

Maylea didn’t hesitate. She already had another arrow knocked as her shrike made a wide pass and followed the waves coming from the drakkon’s huge body as it swam back toward the warships.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

The air shuddered as the warships tried to take aim at her, but they couldn’t seem to match the speed of her shrike. No surprise there. Shrikes flew faster than dragons, and were nearly invisible in the night thanks to their mirror-like scales.

I just had to trust that would be enough to give her the edge she needed. I couldn’t help her while I was stuck out here treading water like a drowning rat. I didn’t know where Thatcher and the others were, either.

But I did know that our ship would be leaving soon, with or without us.

By the scarlet glow of burning homes and belching cannon fire, I spotted the distant shore of that smaller island. Fates help me, it must have been a quarter mile through debris, floating bodies, the occasional Nar’Haleenan warship, and gods only knew what else. I bit down hard and steeled what was left of my already frayed nerves.

I’d never been all that great of a swimmer. But now, I had to swim for my life.

20

CHAPTER TWENTY

I only had to swim, battling the wakes of ships and dodging chunks of debris, for about the first half of the distance. Then I came across a decent-sized piece of wood floating in the water, and used that to hold onto while I kicked the rest of the way to the shore. A small blessing, considering I still had my haversack on my back and my boots on. They filled with water instantly and weighed me down considerably. But kicking? I could manage that.

With Vexi perched on my head like the captain of her own little ship, I made it all the way to the shoreline of the smaller island before I realized that actually getting ashore was going to be its own challenge. Unlike the larger island we’d just come from, this one had steep, craggy, sheer cliffs all the way around. It was only an island in the technical sense. Honestly, it was more like a broad seastack with a few trees and rickety little houses on top.

No wonder they needed a tall bridge to access it.

I paddled around with my makeshift raft, looking for anywhere that seemed accessible that wouldn’t require me to go around the whole island. Even if it was small, I wasn’t sure I could make it that far without getting swept off into the currents. Then I’d be a dead man for sure.

The best I could find was a large, obviously manmade, circular opening about ten feet above the foaming, roiling waves. With the rocks around it jagged and bristling with barnacles, I was sure I could get enough grip to crawl up in there. Maybe it was the opening of some tunnel that would lead me inland? A guy could hope, anyway.

Turns out, it was a tunnel. Fantastic. The downside? It was a sewer tunnel.

And yes, it was absolutely as bad as it sounds.

Violet had bragged briefly about the advancements Rienkans had made in their plumbing engineering, using aqueducts and whatnot to bring water to inland homes and villages and to run sewage out to the ocean. I now had an up close and extremely personal appreciation for it.

Disgusting.

Every step sloshed and slurped, my boots sticking in the muck. Vexi hissed in dismay and hunkered closer to my neck, her tail coiling around her legs. She chittered unhappily like an angry little chipmunk. I tried not to breathe through my nose, but the fear of the vile sludge beneath my feet splashing into my open mouth was more than I could stand. The smell hit me like a brick to the face. I gagged, wretched, and finally threw up after about twenty minutes of slogging farther and farther into the dark tunnel.

At last, I spotted light in the distance. A way out? Oh, thank the gods.

I trudged faster, cringing every time some of the filth on the ground spattered onto my pants and up my back. I’d reek for weeks. Violet had shrugged off my previous requests for a bath, but I sort of doubted she’d be willing to stand in the same room with me after this unless I got one now.

I staggered to a halt directly beneath a beam of light that poured down from a circular opening overhead. Or at least, it looked like it might be an opening. A hatch, possibly. There was a round plate of metal with a few holes cut into it in a pattern, and a hinge on one side. A handle of wrought iron was built into the bottom of it. I had no idea what lay beyond it or where I might come out. It might’ve been in the middle of the street or the middle of someone’s bathroom. Whatever the case, it had to be better than where I was now.

I grabbed the handle and gave a few wrenching shoves. The ironwork hinge groaned and creaked, probably giving me away immediately to anyone on the other side. It didn’t matter. I was coming out of this gods-forsaken nightmare if it was the last thing I ever did.

Orange light poured over me as I climbed up through the opening, using my elbows to haul myself out into the middle of a small square. Fire glowed in the night on every side as I shambled to my feet and turned slowly, trying to figure out where I was. All the shops and homes around me were fully engulfed in flame. I didn’t see anyone in the streets nearby.

And I had no idea which way to go to reach the docks where our ship was supposed to be waiting. I left a slime trail of rancid muddy footprints like the world’s most disgusting slug as I picked a street that looked like it wasn’t all on fire yet, and started for it.

Ash and cinders floated in the air. Smoke boiled up to choke out the night sky. The roar of the flames droned in my ears, and I could feel the heat of it against my body even through my clothes as I jogged down the street. There was no one around—which was a blessing, honestly—but it also meant I had no one to ask or follow to get to the docks. I needed to see where I was and get my bearings. I needed a vantage point, the higher the better.

In the distance, I saw it. A tower rose up over the other buildings like a monument dead ahead. It wasn’t as big as a garrison, but it would do. And as a cheery bonus, it didn’t look like it was on fire yet. Perfect.

I ran for it, choking on the smoke and ash in the air, and trying to shield my eyes from the flashes of heat. At the base of the tower, I stared up at all three levels. The fire was coming this way. I wouldn’t have long, and the last thing I needed was to get stuck at the top of this building when it did catch fire.

The door at the base was closed but unlocked, and I barged in without knocking. It only took one look around to realize it was, in fact, a temple. I didn’t recognize the sculpture of the deity that sat enthroned upon a raised altar at the back of the first floor, though. I didn’t stop to figure it out.

Breaking to the left, I took a flight of stairs all the way up to the third level without stopping. From there, I found a long hall with a floor-length window overlooking the entire island. The whole place was probably only a mile across, and I could see off to the north where crowds of people were crammed into the streets along the coast. That must be where the docks were.

I could make it.

Whirling around, I started for the stairs. I’d barely made it halfway down the hall when I heard it—the muffled sound of voices beyond one of the closed doors. I nearly tripped face-first as I came to a screeching halt. What? Seriously? Was someone still in here?

I ran to the door, whipped it open, and was immediately met with a chorus of horrified screams right in my face. There were two small women and a young man wearing long, pale blue robes all mashed into a closet. They stared at me with faces blanched in fear, like they assumed I was an enemy soldier who’d come to slaughter them or something.

Priests? Or, I guess, one priest and a pair of priestesses. Arggh. Whatever. What the heck were they still doing here?

“Are you insane? You can’t stay here!” I shouted as I seized the young man’s arm and yanked him out of the broom closet. The girls came tumbling out after, wailing and clinging to one another. “This whole place is going to burn with you in it! You have to get out of here now!”

Towing them along behind me in a sobbing line, I started for the stairs again. We scrambled down, but didn’t make it to the first floor before I heard the roar and crackle of flames. Curse it. Were we too late?

Thick black smoke boiled up from below as I staggered to a halt halfway down the stairwell between the first and second floor. That exit was no good. I whipped around and shouted for them to go back. We had to find another way out.

Too bad the only exit point I found was a window on the second floor. Outside, the rooftop of a neighboring building was only maybe five feet away. We’d have to jump for it.

I used my elbow to break out the glass and stuck my head out, checking as best I could to see if that neighboring building—a house, by the looks of it—wasn’t on fire. I didn’t spot any smoke coming up from its chimney, and I couldn’t see any signs of fire leaking through the reed-thatched roof.

Good enough.

Turning back to my new, appropriately horrified wards, I grabbed the closest one and dragged her to the edge of the window. “You have to jump! Find a place to climb back down to the street! Go!”

She wailed and clung to me, shaking with terror as I basically tossed her up into the windowsill. It took a few seconds of yelling to finally get her to make a wild, flailing leap out into the open air. She hit the rooftop with a thud, rolled a little, but caught herself and managed to get back on her feet. The second girl was braver, and she jumped right away. The young man, with his eyes red and tearing from the smoke, gaped in shock at the tiny green dragoness on my shoulder for a second before he finally managed a shaking word of thanks. Then he followed them, springing the gap and landing close to the other two.

So far, so good.

I waited for the three of them to begin working their way over the thatching toward the next rooftop.

Now, it was my turn.

I climbed up into the windowsill just as the heat of the spreading flames licked at the doorway behind me. No time to hesitate or second-guess it. This was the only way out.

I sprang out into the open air, aiming for a spot where I knew I’d be able to get a good handhold of the roof’s thatching. My boots hit first, hands outstretched, and breath held for landing.

And that was when I fell.

Again.

* * *

CRACK—CRASH!

The beam holding up the bundles of reeds that thatched the rooftop broke as soon as I hit, and I fell straight through. Vexi squawked in alarm. All the wind rushed out of me at once when I hit the ground. I lay flat on my back right in the middle of a giant mud puddle, with my furious little dragoness sitting on my chest. No, it wasn’t just mud.

Oh, gods, what now?

I blinked away the stars dancing in my vision as I shakily sat up, finding myself nose-to-nose with an enormous pig. The big pink sow stared at me, her snout wiggling as she made curious snorting sounds and waddled over closer to investigate.

Vexi immediately fluttered to my rescue, landing between me and the pig and trying to puff herself up like an angry housecat. She hissed and flared her wings, spitting a little plume of flame that didn’t seem to discourage the sow at all. I’d give her credit for trying, though. Glad to know that, despite our recent tiffs, she still cared enough not to let a pig maul me to death. How touching.

“Easy there, killer. I think I can handle this one,” I said as I hauled myself back to my feet and picked up my dragon. Putting her back onto my shoulder, I climbed over the railing and out of the pigpen. One look around the interior of the barn revealed that most of the pens had been left open, including the one with the pig, and I spotted a doorway on the far right. Perfect. I started for it with sigh of relief. Maybe I could find my way back out to the street. At least now I knew which direction to go in order to find the ship. Things were looking up.

Gods, when had I become an optimist?

Rolling open the barn door, I stared into the interior of a modest farmhouse that was, as far as I could tell, abandoned. Furniture lay overturned, cabinets stood open and emptied, and the front door still stood open to the street outside. I guess whoever had lived here had left in a hurry. They’d even left their pigs behind. In the interest of pig-safety, I left the barn door and front door open, too. At least any animals left in there could flee when this place inevitably caught fire, too.

But that was all I could do for them right now.

The street to my left was already aglow as the tower I’d just jumped out of went up like a torch. Fates, this whole island might burn because there was no one here to try and fight the spread of the blaze. I guess everyone had already fled to the docks—which was exactly where I needed to be, too.

I took to the street in a run, making my way north as best I could. Without knowing the layout of the small city, I was counting on the fact that it wasn’t all that big to get me there. Or, at least close enough that I’d be able to spot the crowded docks and reach them in time.

Vexi clung to my shoulder, her tiny talons digging into my skin again as I dashed along avenues and skidded around corners, ducking away from the flickering flames that belched out of first floor windows and dropped heaps of burning debris into the streets around me. I yelped and floundered back as an entire, two-level home caved in right as I darted past it, sending out a shower of sparks, cinders, and ash that stung at my skin and singed my clothes. The crackling, smoldering debris blocked the street ahead of me, and I stared around for another way forward. Down an alley to my right, I saw the back door of another building. Not ideal—but there wasn’t time to search for an alternative.

I ran over and flung it open. Staring into the wavering heat of the interior was like looking into an oven. The top floor of this building, which looked like a tailor’s shop, was also burning. I could see the flames beginning to eat through the ceiling beams and boards overhead. But … maybe I could get through. I just had to be fast.

There was no other way around that blocked street.

Sucking in a deep breath, I put my head down and ran inside. I floundered around the front counter; knocking aside mannequins dressed in half-finished gowns, and hit the front door with a wheezing cough. My eyes watered from the smoke, and my throat burned from the heat that rippled in the air.

I had to get out! Right now!

I grabbed the door handled and immediately let out a yell of shock. It was hot—too hot to hold onto with my bare hands. Curse it!

CREAAAK!

I didn’t dare look back as I heard the ceiling beams begin to crack and groan, threatening to snap and cave in on top of my head at any moment.

Only one option.

I ripped off one of the still-soggy sleeves of my tunic, wrapped it around my hand, and seized the door. The wet cloth hissed when it touched the metal knob, but I managed to pry it open. I stumbled out into the street again, just as that groaning and cracking grew louder.

Run. Time to run!

I sprinted headlong away from the tailor’s shop as a loud BOOM and CRASH threw more cinders at my back. The burst from the collapsing building sent me sprawling forward. I hit the ground hard and rolled like a log until I lay, on my back again, staring up at the dark sky that was barely visible through all the boiling plumes of smoke.

I tried to remember if, in all my years, I’d ever had a worse night than this. Hmm. Nope. This was definitely in the top three.

My arms and legs shook as I dragged myself upright once again. I staggered, setting my jaw against a new shooting pain in my back, as I shambled forward. It throbbed with every step, so I couldn’t run. But I could make it. I had to.

Then I saw it. There, between two narrow shops on the other end of another little town square, the gleam of the fire sparkling off the ocean caught my eye for the briefest instant. A crowd of desperate voices shouted and wailed over the ambient roar of the flames.

The docks.

I was almost there.

A desperate, gasping growl leaked through my clenched teeth as I started limping faster. I was so close. I was going to make it.

By all the Gods, Fates, and anything divine that might be watching, I would get to that ship if it cost me my very last breath.

21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I found it.

Our ship, the Sea Cat, sat still moored amidst all the pandemonium at the docks. Hoards of people rushed the larger ships, trying to beg and barter their way aboard. But our ship was … well, easy to overlook. It was tiny, by comparison, and looked one good gust of wind away from winding up at the bottom of the ocean. Not ideal for trying to outrun warships.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though, and I knew it probably wouldn’t take long for those desperate townsfolk to try forcing their way aboard any ship or vessel they could find. I kept my head down as I shoved my way through the crowds, keeping to the back until I reached the place where the Sea Cat had her lines tied. Or, rather, her only remaining line. The others had already been taken in, and I spotted an older, balding man in a ragged cloak arguing with his deckhands as they rushed around, trying to take in the gangplank and unfurl the sails.

At least, I assumed it was his own crew he was shouting at. But as I drew closer, I got a much better look at what was happening. And, sweet Fates, something about it made me smile.

Violet’s eyes were wide and crazed as she stood stiff, her shoulders squared and stance firm. She bared her teeth like a furious lioness as she planted herself between the older man and the last mooring line, a dagger already in her hand. “NO! He will be here!” she roared furiously. “He is not dead! By all the gods, we will wait five more min—”

“N-Not … necessary…” I wheezed hoarsely as I staggered down the dock, nearly tripping over my own feet. My boots sloshed with every step, and I could still taste ash, grit, and blood in my mouth.

Uggggh. I was getting too old for this nonsense.

I hobbled up the gangplank and only made it a few steps onto the ship’s deck before my legs buckled. I hit the wooden floor on my knees and sank back on my heels. Maybe if I just curled up right here, I could sleep and no one would bother me.

Hah. Yeah. Sure.

“REIGH!” Thatcher ran over ahead of the others, trying to take my arm and help me back up. “Gods and Fates! We thought you were …” he stopped short and made a face, his lip curling some as he covered his nose. “Good grief, what is that smell?”

“Well, after almost drowning, I had to crawl through a sewer,” I groaned.

“What?” Maylea balked as she rushed toward me, then came to a screeching halt as soon as she caught a whiff, too. “Ew! Why would you—?”

“Then I fell through a roof into a pig pen,” I continued. “And then I almost got trapped in a burning house.” I cast them all a haggard, put-me-out-of-my-misery glare. I really wasn’t up to fielding any follow-up questions about all this right now. “My back hurts, I think I singed one of my eyebrows off, I can’t feel my arms, and there’s a gallon of water in my shoes. Please just drag me somewhere so I can sleep.”

They all stared at me—including the old man who must have been the captain of the ship—for a few awkwardly silent minutes. Then Thatcher burst out laughing. Lukani chuckled and Maylea started snickering, too. Even the captain gave a bemused snort before he hobbled away to continue barking orders at his men to get us underway.

The only one not laughing was Violet. She stared at me with her mouth hanging open and her face pale, as though she were seeing a ghost. I guess, despite that stubborn little speech she’d just made, a part of her had believed I was already dead. Too bad. I’d come close a few times, but it would take more than a drakkon, warships, falling through a roof, and burning alive to bring me down.

“Get him below deck, then,” the captain ordered as he snapped his fingers to his small crew of sailors. “No more passengers, and be sure you keep our flags down and our deck quiet. With any luck, we sail for Soman Taal with those warships none the wiser!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell the old man that, when it came to ships being sneaky in these waters, he was already at a severe disadvantage. But it must have helped that this tiny fishing vessel had dark sails, a black-painted hull, and absolutely no lights burning. We slipped away from the docks with nothing to guide us but the light of burning homes on the islands and the distant thump, rumble, and flash of cannon fire.

I stood on the deck next to Thatcher and the others, watching it all slip into the distance. Even from here, gazing at the glow of the fire in the night that was now more than a mile away, it still didn’t feel safe.

Or … real.

I knew I shouldn’t be alive. Violet wasn’t wrong to be shocked and slightly horrified that I’d staggered onto that boat in one piece. I should have died in the depths when I fell from that bridge. Anyone else would be a cold corpse at the bottom of the ocean right now.

But I wasn’t just anyone. Noh had made that abundantly clear. Clysiros had plans for me again. That thought put dread like a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. I shut my eyes and turned away, leaning into Thatcher’s side as he helped me limp below deck.

The cabin was tiny, but there was enough room for me to shrug off my soggy haversack and stretch out on the floor. I lay there, feeling the roll and vibration of the waves against the ship’s hull beneath my back. Every bump and rattle made my heartbeat race again and the fear that we were being attacked wash over me like a splash of icy water.

If something did attack this little boat, it wouldn’t survive. We could try defending it, but one decent hit with a cannonball is all it would take to send this rickety bucket straight to the bottom.

I tried not to dwell on that as I lay there, my head rolling slightly with the motion of the waves that rocked us back and forth. Thatcher didn’t hang around, and muttered a few words about me trying to rest some before he skulked away. At first, I thought he was just anxious about what might be happening above deck and wanted to go back up to keep watch.

Nope. Turns out, he had a completely different motive for leaving me there. He was setting me up—the jerk.

* * *

I didn’t hear her enter or say a word to Thatcher. But as soon as the cabin door shut, I caught a glimpse of her long, silvery white hair rippling as she stepped closer to where I lay.

“You smell absolutely terrible,” Violet scolded, although her tone was strangely gentle. She sat down right next to me with her legs crossed.

Great. What was this about? More name-calling? I really wasn’t up for another argument about my inability to lead this mission. Not until I’d at least had a nap. Or a bath. I’d take whatever I could get.

“I know,” I managed to slur drowsily. “Go ahead and call me whatever names you want so I can sleep. I don’t care. I’m just glad I didn’t die.”

I could have sworn I heard her murmur, “I am, too.”

Hmmm. I couldn’t be sure, though. Not when Violet had angled herself away so I couldn’t see her face. And I wasn’t about to take anything on a guess when it came to her.

She kept on fidgeting with my soggy haversack as though inspecting it for damage—which was stupid because, like me, it was very obviously a wreck. I wondered if any of my letters had even survived. I had them and my medical kits secured in a pouch that was meant to be waterproof. I guess we would see how well it actually held up to being fully immersed in the ocean.

I wasn’t holding out much hope, though.

Sprawled out unceremoniously on my back, I watched her sifting through my personal effects. Any other time, I might’ve thrown a fit about it. But it wasn’t like I had anything embarrassing in there. At least, not that she likely didn’t already know about thanks to being Arlan’s spy.

Violet’s eyes seemed a little puffy when she finally looked my way. Her mouth was all pinched up, too, as though she was trying to keep her expressions in check. It didn’t work. Her chin trembled ever so slightly before she could quickly turn away again.

Strange. I hadn’t expected her to care so much about what happened to me. We weren’t close. I wasn’t even sure we were friends. Coworkers, more or less.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t my nearly dying that had upset her.

We had just witnessed and barely survived something awful. As someone with a lot of experience in dealing with awful things, I didn’t dare assume anyone in our party would be fine after what we’d just seen. Senseless slaughter. Cruelty in its purest form. Destruction that bordered on the unimaginable.

This was far worse than the battles I’d fought in the Tibran War. That had been resistance to a mad tyrant’s conquest. Tonight had felt more like … revenge. Violence for the sake of violence. And if Noh was right about what was coming next, it might only be the beginning.

“Hey, look at me,” I managed to rasp weakly, and reached out to put a hand on her arm.

She flinched and snapped her gaze back to meet mine, tears welling in her deep scarlet eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked, fully expecting the same answer I’d gotten the last time I asked her that. The usual, vague excuse.

Her mouth opened, but she hesitated and blinked a few times. “I-I am so sorry, Reigh,” she finally gasped in a broken whisper. “You fell and … and all I could think about was how I never got to tell you that. I didn’t know how. But the last thing you would have heard from me was unkindness and I—” her voice caught and she looked down, her long curtain of smooth white hair falling like a veil to hide her expression.

Oh. Sooo this was about me? Hmm. I guess seeing me fall like that might have been traumatizing, too. Watching a … well, not a friend, per say. Ally? Was that the right word? Anyway, watching someone you know plummet to a gruesome death would scar anyone, right?

And I knew exactly what that felt like.

I slid my hand down to gently and carefully take hers. I didn’t expect it to make much difference, but sometimes it helped to know you weren’t alone. “I get it. It’s fine. We’re fine. Okay?” I tried to sound reassuring and less hoarse and pathetic. It didn’t work.

Violet turned her head to peer at me past her curtain of pale blond hair and went still, her expression completely blank. Little by little, tears welled in her eyes again and ran down her face. She flinched, suddenly seeming to notice, and quickly pulled her hand away to frantically wipe her face.

“I-I am not accustomed to this—to working with others.” She gestured to the empty space between us, talking faster and faster as she struggled to explain. “Arlan has always had me working alone before this. Given the nature of my skills and training, I usually perform better that way. I’m used to carrying out my own plans without any outside input, so this has been quite an adjustment. I wish I could say I am handling it well, but it is somewhat frightening to relinquish control and trust someone else to make the right decisions.”

I couldn’t hold back a weak, exhausted smirk. “Yeah? How am I doing with that part so far?”

A faint smile curved at her full lips for an instant. She sighed, like some of the pressure she’d been bottling up had finally been released. “Better than expected. Even given the company you’re stuck with.”

I choked and coughed some as I tried to laugh. “Eh. It’s not all bad. Thatcher’s back on his feet, after all.”

She gave a snort and sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Very funny, Lieutenant.”

I frowned. Really? Now she was calling me that again? I knew I had heard her use my actual name before. Why did she keep calling me by titles and ranks rather than using my name? Was this some bizarre way of trying to keep things professional?

Or was this just her way of holding me at a distance? And why did that bother me so much? Why did I even care at all?

Urgggh. It didn’t matter if she did, right? It wasn’t like I felt any certain way about her. She was nice-ish. Beautiful? Sure. Dangerous? Absolutely. Violet was a potent mixture of alluring lethality. The kind of woman that would wreck my entire world with a kiss and a smile. I knew better than to stick my big meaty hand into that hornet’s nest.

So … why did I sort of … want to?

Wait—what? No. Was I losing my mind? Or had I hit my head when I fell through that roof? I was not getting involved with anyone else. I’d made that mistake once. Never again.

“Were you injured anywhere?” Violet asked quietly.

“No worse than usual,” I grunted and shifted, trying to get comfortable despite how nearly every inch of me throbbed. I couldn’t keep my face from seizing up when I moved my head, though. That was a deeper, stiffer sort of pain that I couldn’t hide as easily.

And I guess she noticed.

“Let me see,” she insisted, and started reaching to pull down the collar of my tunic to inspect my neck.

“It’s fine,” I protested. “Probably just whiplash. My cloak got hung in the wagon wheel. I couldn’t get it loose until I was in the water. It’s sore, but it’s nothing worth writing home about.”

Her expression softened as her gaze traveled over my neck, jaw, and finally paused on my nose. “You are used to pain, yes?” she asked as she lightly traced a fingertip over the old scar that cut across the bridge of my nose. A souvenir from a run-in with an angry faundra back when I was a kid.

I didn’t dare move or meet her gaze—not with her petting me like that. It sent uneasy chills through me like I was about to plummet off that bridge again. “Comes with the dragonrider territory,” I deflected and tried to shrug away.

“You are so diligent to take care of everyone around you,” she murmured as she probed at my neck. “But it is a mistake to disregard your own pain. Be a good boy and lie still.”

I winced and twitched every time she prodded at my throat. But none of it was sharp pain. I’d have a nasty bruise. Maybe some soft tissue damage. I doubted anything was broken, though. Nothing a few drops of that fancy new healing potion probably couldn’t fix.

“What’s the verdict? Am I doomed?” I tried to laugh it off as she took my jaw in her hands and slowly turned my head left and right. My whole face twitched as the throbbing intensified, sending waves of dull pain through my shoulders, too. Gods, that was going to hurt tomorrow.

She stopped and flicked the end of my nose. “I cannot feel anything damaged. But you are lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

No argument there.

“I didn’t realize you knew anything about healing.” I tried changing the subject.

“I don’t. I just wanted an excuse to touch that dashing face of yours,” she quipped, clicking her tongue teasingly as she sat back.

My mouth snapped into a tight frown. What? Was she taunting me again? Gods, I couldn’t even tell if she was teasing or not anymore. Her expressions were so difficult to read, and my current haze of exhausted pain wasn’t making things any easier.

“I learned a little, here and there,” she explained quietly. “Enough to keep myself alive.”

Ahh. So that was it. Somehow, hearing that was a little disappointing, I just couldn’t figure out why.

“Careful,” I countered as I let my body relax into the floor and my eyes roll closed. “Or else I’ll start to think you actually like having me around.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Her voice was so quiet, I barely heard her.

My heart gave a slow, aching twist in my chest and I swallowed hard. My stomach started flipping and spinning frantically. Gods, what was wrong with me?

Stupid. This was stupid. I knew that. I was a prince. She was a spy. I was too old for ridiculous, childish thoughts of a relationship. I had enough baggage and responsibilities to choke a dragon. I barely knew anything about her. We had absolutely nothing in common.

It would never work.

I should just lay there and keep my stupid mouth shut. I’d just end up regretting anything else I said. I always did.

Fortunately, staying silent wasn’t hard to do right then. My aching body relaxed into the floor and my breathing slowed. I knew it wouldn’t last. In an hour or so, we would reach the shore and start our trek toward the city of Esfolar so we could meet up with our caravan. Er, well, providing nothing else terrible happened to us before then. I wasn’t sure I could handle another all-out crisis, though. I’d reached my limit on near-death experiences for one day.

Drifting in the silence, my thoughts circled back to that familiar, cutting voice that had found me once again. There was no mistaking it now. Noh was back. A certain goddess was definitely calling me out. And I had no alternative but to answer. I had needed that power twice now, and we hadn’t even reached Nar’Haleen or picked up Ronan’s trail yet.

I didn’t have a choice.

I’d have to make a deal with the devil, and pray it didn’t cost me everything this time.

PART SIX

MURDOC

22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Over the last decade, I’d had the privilege of getting to know the man that the rest of the world called the Champion of Maldobar or the Hero of the Gray War personally. I knew him as Jaevid Broadfeather, Academy Commander of Blybrig. He preferred that we just call him Jae, though, even if that felt a little informal.

Whatever the name or title, I had served under Jae as an instructor after graduating as a dragonrider myself. We had worked together extensively to refine and perfect the hand-to-hand and weapon-based combat training that was part of every dragonrider’s education. We had also spent a lot of time together as friends alongside Thatcher, Reigh, Garnett, Jenna, and the others.

In all that time, I’d gotten to know Jaevid fairly well. He was usually very stoic, calm, and patient. He kept that reserved, contemplative demeanor even among close friends. It made him difficult to read at times, even for me. He was not the sort of person you expected to fly off the handle quickly at the first sign of trouble. He had a few small tells whenever something really bothered him—subtle traits I doubted he was even aware of that gave him away. But even in those moments, he was always rational.

So, witnessing him come completely unraveled over the loss of this daughter was … difficult to watch, to say the least. I couldn’t recall ever seeing our esteemed commander so reckless and on edge. He had scowled into the distance, standing firm with his helmet under his arm and saying nothing, while the rest of us finished packing our gear and checking our saddles for departure from Southwatch.

Thanks to Jaevid’s prestigious reputation and rank within the Dragonriders of Maldobar, he had no trouble securing transportation for Garnett and Roxus. Not dragons, of course, but he had acquired two shrikes for us to borrow long enough to make our journey.

Our plan was simple. Faced with the inevitable necessity of dealing with deities once again, we were left with few options. We had to tread lightly, since Jaevid’s young daughter and Jenna’s only son were now caught up in the mix. One wrong move could put them both in lethal danger.

Unfortunately, our moves going forward from this point were extremely limited. We could either join the fight and arm ourselves appropriately, knowing full well what it might cost—or we could sit back, wait, and hope Reigh and the others would be able to handle it without our assistance. Neither option appealed to me, and I despised the notion that I had to choose between the lesser of two evils.

I did have the utmost confidence in Reigh’s ability to get the job done—that same stubbornness that often got him into trouble also usually made him a formidable opponent to anyone who crossed him. A family trait, according to Jaevid. But it was possible that he didn’t know what he was fully up against if Sadeera came after him.

We all knew she was a powerful sorceress—a counterpart to Arlan’s own magical prowess. Previously, she had managed to manipulate her way to the center of power in the Ulfrangar using a magical golem Arlan had called an aspect. The idea that she may be doing the same thing now in order to pull at an emperor’s strings and make him dance like a puppet, chilled me straight down to the marrow. She meant to crack open the kingdom of the gods, and if she had Ronan heeling like a muzzled dog, she might very well achieve that goal.

Reigh needed help, even if he didn’t know it yet. He’d been determined to go at this on his own, displacing as few of us as possible from our normal lives. But the more we learned—the more the true nature of the situation unfolded—the more obvious it became that Reigh was in over his head.

That left only one, terrifying option: we had to join the fight any way we could.

My young dragon, Blite, greeted me at the stall door with exciting grunting, chirping calls. He rubbed his scaly head all over me, nearly knocking me backward as he snuffled through my hair and nipped at the back of my tunic. I scratched his bony brow and under his chin until he gave a deep, satisfied purr.

He wriggled around, intentionally slapping my legs with the tip of his tail and nuzzling around my boots—which were still his favorite thing to steal if he ever got an opportunity when I wasn’t paying attention. I had to give one of his scaly ears a yank to get him to hold still long enough to buckle my bag and weaponry back into place on his saddle. He grumbled sulkily the whole time, huffing deep, pouting snorts that blew up the hay in front of his nose.

Ridiculous. And mostly Phoebe’s fault. My extremely enthusiastic wife had gone to great lengths to spoil my dragon until he acted more like a housecat than a battle mount.

It didn’t take long for us to be ready to leave. With Roxus and Garnet astride the borrowed shrikes, and Isandri on the back of Jaevid’s saddle, we struck out before dawn and flew straight for Luntharda. Against the wind and veering around the big rolling storm fronts that moved in from the eastern coast, it was hard flying for our mounts. Jaevid’s king drake, Mavrik, managed it better, so Roxus, Garnett, and I tried drafting off his tail as much as possible.

Even with that aid, I felt Blite’s sides heaving harder with every wingbeat. If he was tired, I could only imagine the much-smaller shrike was reaching exhaustion. We had pushed all our mounts hard for nearly six hours, and passed Solhelm not long ago. If we could get to Eastwatch, we could let them rest. We could draw up our final plans for when we reached the edge of the wild jungle of Luntharda.

I could ask Jaevid about making an extra stop, just for a moment, as we passed over Dayrise where my family lived.

Blite let out a bellow of excitement when we dipped below a low bank of dark clouds and the dragonrider tower of Eastwatch finally came into view. I sighed, feeling every muscle in my body relax some. One obstacle down.

Several more, much larger ones, to go.

We touched down at Eastwatch tower and handed off our mounts to the young lieutenants manning the stables and landing platform. Jaevid left orders for them to be given food, water, and a place to rest for the next few hours. But we wouldn’t be staying for long.

Roxus and Garnett drew a few curious looks from the dragonriders and infantry soldiers as we prowled along through the tower. Probably because Roxus looked like a drunken bum we’d scraped off the side of the road somewhere, and dwarven women like Garnett weren’t a common sight anywhere. It didn’t seem to bother either of them as we made our way to the tower’s dining hall to grab a quick meal for ourselves as well. No point in showing up to barter with deities for the fate of the world on an empty stomach.

Over plates of roasted lamb, creamed potatoes, and dark bread, we kept our conversation low and to the point. Jaevid was the only one who didn’t seem to have much to say. His glacier blue eyes were glazed and distant, as though he were already having private, internal conversations with gods.

Or maybe he was just worrying about his child being caught up in this mess and too far away for him to help her if she needed it.

Speaking of which …

I leaned forward and put my elbows on the table, nudging Jaevid’s arm in the process to get his attention. I angled myself so I could send him hand signals in the dragonrider code without the others—namely Roxus, who I didn’t completely trust—noticing.

“I want to leave ahead of you and make another stop in Dayrise. If you do a low city pass, I’ll catch up.”

Jaevid’s brows snapped together, his expression sharpening with concern. He held my gaze for a few seconds before he signaled back, “I can’t do this without you.”

“I know,” I answered quickly. “But I have to tell her what’s happening. It won’t take long. I’ll be ready to move as soon as you arrive in the city. Is that okay?”

Jaevid’s demeanor immediately softened. His disapproving frown went slack, and he gave a slow, approving nod before looking away. There was no mistaking that fractured look of heartbreak in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to leave Beckah behind, either. But neither of us had a choice about this now.

Not unless we wanted our families surviving in a world ruled by Sadeera.

I waited a few more minutes, finishing what was on my plate, before I stood up and excused myself. Garnett stared after me, her lavender-hued eyes sparkling with curiosity, almost like she knew I was up to something. There was no point in trying to hide anything from her. Garnett had a mind as sharp and fast as a steel bear trap. Nothing got past her notice.

Not even me.

I gave her a wink, just to let her know she was right, and turned to leave. With any luck, it would only take another two and a half hours to get to Dayrise. Maybe less, if Blite was feeling frisky after his own meal.

We could both be home before sundown.

* * *

The horizon had just begun to turn warm shades of evening pink as I gave Blite the cue to land in the street right outside the Porter family home in Dayrise. My family’s home. A few local townsfolk gave yelps of surprise and scrambled to get out of the way, shielding their eyes from the wind as we touched down.

Sliding off my helmet, I clipped it on the back of my saddle before I gave my young drake a nudge to crouch down so I could dismount. I hadn’t even finished sliding off my gauntlets before the front door of the Porter home flew open with a bang, and she appeared.

My wife.

“MURDOC!” Phoebe cried out as she struggled along, barely managing an awkward waddle-run out the front door of my parents’ home. With her coppery curls and lengths of her flowing light blue gown flying, she started for me with her arms outstretched and her lightly freckled cheeks flushed and rosy.

I stopped as soon as I climbed down from Blite’s back and stood frozen, staring at her. I couldn’t help it. The sight of her left my head spinning and all my worries scrambled. Fates, she was beautiful. Whenever she called my name like that, it still made my heartbeat race and skip like the very first time, even after all these years.

A smile spread over my face, as I ran out to meet her, leaving Blite crouching in the street. She laughed as I grabbed her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. I savored the smell of her skin and the way her fingers combed through my hair as she stood on her toes to kiss me back.

Home. I was home again—after months of being separated while I worked at the academy. One touch, one kiss and sweet laugh from her, and all that stress and worry felt far away. As though nothing else truly mattered.

Phoebe gave my chin a teasing rub and giggled, then tapped playfully at the end of my nose. “You didn’t tell me you were coming so soon. You’ve committed fully to that beard, I see.”

“You don’t like it?” I asked as I leaned down, stole another kiss, and ran my hand over her round, swollen belly. I could have sworn I felt the smallest thump against my hand. It made my breath catch and I froze, looking up to see her knowing little grin.

“I-I felt a kick,” I wheezed breathlessly.

“It happens a lot more often now,” she replied, biting at her bottom lip as her light blue eyes shone with all the warmth and light I’d missed so much over the last few months.

Time-wise, I knew Phoebe didn’t have much longer. Our first baby was due before the end of the month, and I hadn’t been able to stay at her side as much as I wanted because of my job. Being the head instructor overseeing all combat training at Blybrig inevitably required that I spend most of the time at the academy across the kingdom.

I despised the separation. The not knowing if she was all right or needed my help. That was the entire reason I’d requested that Phoebe move in with my parents here in Dayrise, so they could help look after her. Not that my mother and father minded at all. They lavished over Phoebe and gushed at the prospect of getting to help with our first baby.

It was a long way from our home in Halfax, though. And at first, Phoebe didn’t like the idea of leaving all her work behind. I had eventually convinced her that, for safety’s sake, she would need someone to help her once the pregnancy put more of strain on her very petite body.

I had taken a few days off to move her here only three months ago, but there hadn’t been time to visit as we worked with avian students trying to graduate. I had initially worried I might miss the birth altogether. Fortunately, my commander was extremely understanding about my desire to come home and remain there as long as I could manage after the baby arrived—at least until Phoebe felt comfortable with me leaving again. Jaevid had insisted I take all the time I needed.

Now, with this new, incredibly dangerous and slapped-together mission looming before me like a rising dark tide, I had to wonder … would I actually get to be there for the birth of my first child? Or would I be on a ship somewhere in the ocean? Or fighting for my life somewhere in the desert of the Southern Kingdoms?

I didn’t know. And worse, I didn’t know how I was going to tell Phoebe any of this.

“I’ve never cared much for beards, but I admit, it does look very distinguished,” she laughed and put her hand over mine. “It’s so funny! Just a few minutes ago the baby was kicking around so much, like she was dancing inside me. She must have known you were coming to—” She stopped suddenly, staring at me with those raindrop blue eyes studying me carefully. “Murdoc? What’s wrong?”

Fates, I should have known. I’d lost a little of my Ulfrangar edge over the years, but even in my prime, Phoebe could spot my emotions as clearly as a dawn sunrise. There was no keeping secrets from her.

I drew back a little, tucking some of her wild red hair behind her ear, and forced a smile I knew she wouldn’t buy for instant. “We’ll talk inside. Now, what’s this with calling our baby a ‘she’ already?” I tried changing the subject.

Phoebe still stared at me as she took my arm for balance and shrugged. “It’s just a feeling.”

“What if I feel that it’s a boy?” I countered.

A soft, uncertain smile brushed her lips as she hobbled along beside me. Together, we made our way back to the front steps of the house. “I suppose in a few weeks, we’ll know who’s right, won’t we?”

“I suppose we will,” I agreed, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep my tone as firm and even as before. Not with that sense of dread welling up in me, spreading like an icy chill through every inch of my body.

At the door, I turned back and gave Blite a signal to take off but remain close to the area. We wouldn’t be able to stay here long. An hour or two, at most. In that very limited time, I had to figure how to tell my wife what was happening with Arlan, Sadeera, Reigh, and the others. I had to tell her that I might be leaving Maldobar altogether.

And I had to confess to her that I wasn’t sure when, or if, I would be able to return.

23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The conversation went about as well as you would expect.

Phoebe and my parents sat in mute horror as I described to them everything we had learned about Sadeera, Ronan, and what was happening in Nar’Haleen that might threaten the entire known world. For Phoebe’s sake, I tried to phrase it as gently as I knew how. But there wasn’t a good way to sugarcoat an insane sorceress trying to wage a war against the ancient gods using dark magic and the armies of a powerful emperor whose court she already seemed to control. I’d never been good at sugarcoating to begin with. Chalk that up to being raised by a league of deadly assassins.

Regardless, I didn’t want to keep anything from them. What we were doing—what I was about to do—was dangerous. I didn’t want to set any unrealistic expectations or leave any mystery behind as to what we were really up to. These were the people I cherished most in the world. I wanted, more than anything, to be honest with them.

Phoebe sat close to me on the couch, gripping my hand like I might disappear at any moment. “If all of this is happening in Nar’Haleen, then why are you going to Luntharda?” she asked quietly.

“According to Arlan’s agents, that’s the best place to go shopping for a potential divine candidate that might be willing to join our side,” I explained as best I could. In all honesty, this was the part that still wound my brain into knots. I’d never fully understood all this divine power nonsense, even when Thatcher was dealing with it years ago. Sometimes, it was still hard to believe any of it was real at all.

But I had witnessed firsthand that it was.

“Isandri’s been helping with the excavation and restoration of an ancient temple to the northeast of Aular. It’s remote, and until very recently, no one knew it existed at all,” I said. “Arlan seems to think that site is our best chance at making contact. We plan to go there, hopefully enlist some divine assistance, and then make our way south. Our intent is to intercept Reigh and the others. Knowing Sadeera has Ronan under her heel now changes things. It puts our friends at a distinct disadvantage. He won’t say it aloud, but I think Arlan is worried she may already have the codex, too. If so, they are already fighting a losing battle, and we won’t stand by and do nothing.”

“This will be dangerous,” Phoebe murmured, her grip on my hand tightening. “More dangerous than before.”

I didn’t answer. She was right, of course. No need to make that ugly truth any worse.

“What do you need from us, son?” my father asked, sitting forward in his chair to fix me with an intensely focused stare.

“Please continue to look after Phoebe,” I asked, bowing my head. Somehow, this felt like begging. Like raw desperation. I hated it. But I had no choice. I wouldn’t walk away without making sure my family knew what was happening. I wouldn’t abandon my wife—the person I loved most in the world—without telling her the truth about what I was about to do. “I … don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I don’t know what will happen.”

A second passed. Then another. No one spoke, and I could feel myself shaking like a frightened child. I shut my eyes tightly. Phoebe would be upset. She might even be angry. And she had every right to be.

“It’s okay, Murdoc.” Her gentle voice filled my ears like the soothing pattering of spring rain. “I know you have to do this. Jaevid can’t do it alone, and I believe he wouldn’t ask anyone unless it really was a problem too big and dangerous for him to handle on his own. Thatcher, Maylea, Reigh, and Ronan—they’re our family, too. And they need your help. So, please, go help them. Just promise me you’ll come back.”

I opened my eyes to stare at her, unable to hide my disbelief.

Her smile was enough to make any goddess jealous as she gave me a small, approving nod. She would be okay. She wouldn’t hate me for going.

And that was all that mattered in my world.

“We will do whatever we can to support you, honey,” my mother agreed, although I could still see traces of fear in her eyes. “Just try to be safe. We all need you to come back home, dear.”

“I know,” I replied.

“And don’t worry about Phoebe,” my father chimed in. “She is more than welcome here for as long as she wants. We’re happy to have her.”

Once again, I sat speechless, staring at my parents—two people I had never expected to have in my life. Their consistent efforts to be there for me, in spite of all that I did and had done in the past, left my chest feeling heavy and my heart twisting painfully like someone was trying to rip it right out of my chest. I didn’t deserve love like theirs. But I had it now, and I would never take it for granted.

The distant, booming sound of a dragon’s roar rattled the windows of my family home. It made Phoebe jump some and my parents stiffen.

That was my signal. It was time to go.

* * *

“Awww. Not again,” Phoebe sighed as she stood on the steps to my family’s broad courtyard, staring sadly down at the little pile of white cloth on the ground at her feet with her hands resting on her round belly.

I had to bite back a smile as I walked over, still putting on my riding gauntlets as I prepared to leave. She had no idea how cute it was when she did that. “What’s the matter?”

“My balance is terrible, that’s what’s the matter. I can’t bend over to pick things up, but it seems like I drop everything I touch now,” she huffed. “I can’t even put on my own shoes anymore.”

“I’ll rescue you, then,” I chuckled as I bent down to retrieve her lost handkerchief. “You should go inside and rest.”

“Resting is all I’m fit for these days,” she groaned. “And it’s terribly boring. I miss the workshop at the castle. Jenna had such a nice place for me to work. At least there, I had something to distract me while you were off saving the world one student at a time.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, offering the handkerchief back to her. “When I get back, and as soon as you and the baby are able to travel, we’ll go back home,” I promised.

“I made this for you,” she protested, pushing my hand back and closing my fingers around the handkerchief. “Your mother’s been teaching me embroidery. We’ve made lots of things for the baby. But I wanted you to have this. It’s a token, like the ladies give dragonriders before battle.”

A hard, painful knot formed in my throat as I studied it, noting the tiny stitched blue initials below a shield with my family’s crest above it in gold. The letters P and R. Our initials. I still didn’t use my real name, Rylen, all that much. It was hard to change to that after eighteen years of being called Murdoc.

But I liked it, nonetheless.

Tucking the handkerchief into my pocket, I cradled her chin to tilt her head back and bent down to kiss her again. Then I knelt, putting my hands on either side of her belly, and kissed that place where our child still slept safely inside her. With my heart still in my throat, I stood back and slid my helmet on quickly so maybe she wouldn’t see the way my eyes welled. I didn’t like it—showing emotion like that. It still felt wrong, like something I might be punished for.

Old habits.

“Please be careful, Murdoc,” Phoebe whispered.

“I will.” I managed to keep my voice steady.

Her throat jumped as she swallowed hard, her own eyes welling as the late evening wind rustled through her long red curls. “I love you.”

Under my helmet, my mouth screwed up. I couldn’t stop my voice from catching when I finally managed to tell her, “I love you, too.”

Every step I took away from her, toward where Blite crouched in the middle of the courtyard, hurt more than the one before it. I hated this. I didn’t want to leave her. She needed me. The baby would need me, too. I shouldn’t be going.

But what choice did I have? What if my blade and my strength were all that might tip the scales in our favor? We needed every ounce of power and advantage we could muster for this fight. There could be no bystanders.

So, taking one last look at my wife, standing in the doorway to my family’s home, I climbed up into my dragon’s saddle. I slipped my feet down into the boot-pockets on either side of his strong, thick neck, and adjusted the saddle handles with my resin-palmed riding gauntlets. Then, with a sweeping rush of wind off his powerful wings, Blite sprang skyward and carried me away.

24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I rejoined with Jaevid and the others as they made a slow, arcing pass over the city of Dayrise. The massive blue king drake was difficult to miss, and Blite zoomed in fast to catch up to him, Isandri’s sleek winged form, and the shrikes. Just in time.

From his saddle, Jaevid gave me a few hand signals as we fell back into formation off his wingtip. “Everything okay at home?”

“Yes,” I signaled back.

“Good. We’re heading for the boundary line. Landing there and following Isandri to the temple site.” He motioned for me to keep in formation, and poured on a little more speed as we veered to the north.

From Dayrise, the boundary line between Maldobar and Luntharda wasn’t far. Less than an hour, by air. As the sun began to sink, the ominous dark line of massive trees loomed ahead of us like a giant fence, marking the edge of the dense, dangerous jungle. Beyond that boundary, the canopy spread like a floating green carpet, hundreds of feet above the jungle floor. The branches of the trees wove together so densely that it was difficult to break through, even on a dragon. We wouldn’t be able to fly there with Blite and Mavrik. And unless we were lucky enough to secure more shrikes, which were small enough to zip through the colossal trees at speed, we would be making the rest of the journey on foot.

Not ideal.

The moon rose up over the towering tree line as our dragons made a final circle, descending and cupping their wings to land. Blite touched down on the grassy plain and gave a snort and a stretch. I’d pushed him hard today. He was well overdue for some downtime.

Patting his strong, scaly neck, I unbuckled from the saddle and climbed down. I shivered as the cool night air hit my sweat-dampened hair. Then again, maybe that was just a side effect of standing so close to the gaping, earthy maw of that jungle. Even from a hundred yards away, the strange echoes and calls of the creatures lurking within made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’d heard tales since I was a child, even amongst the Ulfrangar, of the horrors that lurked there. Until now, however, I’d never had much of a reason to go and see them for myself. I didn’t get sent on diplomatic meetings to the Lunthardan court, thank the gods, so I had never set foot beyond its border before now.

“Take only what we need,” Jaevid advised as he dismounted, too. Sliding his own helmet off, he shook his ash gray hair free and raked some of his bangs away from his eyes before peering up at the looming jungle before us. I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile tug at his lips. I guess, for him, this was more of a homecoming. Even if he was only half Gray elf, he still had strong ties to this place and relatives that still lived there.

Namely, the Queen of Luntharda herself, who happened to be his cousin.

“We need to travel light,” he urged as he turned to face the rest of us. “Passing through Luntharda at night is less than ideal, but time is of the essence. We can’t afford to wait for sunrise. Mavrik and Blite can stay in the area until we return. With any luck, we’ll back within a day or two.”

Heh. Yeah. Because luck was always on our side.

“What about the shrikes?” Garnett asked as she came over to stand beside me, her hands on her hips where she kept two small, double-headed axes strung through her belt. “I don’t mean to be a downer, but I’m not sure how effective I’ll be running through those big trees. I’m not as sprightly at a run as the elfy folk. Shorter legs’n all.”

“We can take the shrikes,” Jaevid assured her. “They can carry two passengers, if necessary. Roxus and Garnett will be on one. Murdoc, you and I will take the other. Isandri, if you’re up to it, we need you to take point and lead us to the temple.”

Standing in her elven form, her weight leaning casually against her tall, crystal-tipped staff, Isa glanced my way before nodding. “I can.”

“Good. Let’s get moving.” Jaevid didn’t waste a second unloading his bag from the back of the saddle and slipping his scimitar back into his belt.

Leaving behind the bulk of my gear—bedroll, personal effects, and cloak—on my saddle, I took only what was absolutely necessary. Well, apart from the handkerchief. That item I kept folded neatly in the secret pocket of my leather vambrace, where I knew it would be safe. Then I saddled up behind Jaevid on the shrike, hanging on to the back of his belt as we took to the air.

We broke through the timberline of Luntharda’s wild jungle like we’d been swallowed whole. Instantly, the moonlight was gone—blocked out by the dense canopy overhead. The cool rush of the open prairie wind immediately gave way to the humid, earthy scent of the heavy jungle air. Even moving at speed, it didn’t take long for me to start sweating under my leather armor and breastplate. A few hours in, and my tunic and pants were soaked through. My hair managed to stay somewhat dry, thanks to the wind rushing past as we zipped through the huge tree trunks.

I’d heard tales of the giant trees that grew here, but seeing them this close left me gaping like a child at a parade. Each one must have been twenty feet or more in diameter, and the branches were so wide you could run on them like sidewalks. No wonder the Gray elves preferred to use them to navigate this place, rather than trying to hike on the jungle floor below.

There, where fern fronds and flowering plants as big as wagons grew in soft, squishy soil, there were said to be a whole host of predators thriving in this environment—especially at night. Some of them had even made it into Ulfrangar tales, like the powerful tigrex, a legendary apex predator that was supposedly similar to a king-sized lion or tiger. Stories told of herds of wild faundra, which happened to be the Gray elves’ resident species of elk. They had been taming them and using them for mounts for thousands of years, although I had never seen one in person. Supposedly, they could run much faster than a horse and were nearly silent even when charging through the jungle foliage.

There was so much more that hadn’t made it into those stories, though. Some of the plant life was bioluminescent, and glowed like a sea of faint blue and green stars around the base of the trees. The eerie calls of the birds echoed for miles, and massive spider webs the size of quilts hung between some of the branches. Thankfully, I didn’t see any of the spiders responsible for them—but I had a decent idea that they would be larger than normal, Maldobarian spiders I occasionally had to rescue Phoebe from with a squish of my boot.

The hours slipped by and we never lost pace, darting ahead as fast as the humming, translucent wings of the shrikes could carry us. Isandri, now sporting her black, winged feline form, glided ahead soundlessly with hardly a sound. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she would find a place like this perfectly in line with her skillset. Isa was as stealthy as she was powerful, even without the added boost of being the mortal manifestation of Adiana, the moon goddess. She, like Thatcher, was a godling. But where he had modest beginnings as a farrier’s son, she had been raised in Nar’Haleen as a shalnii priestess and trained to fight from a young age.

To call her formidable was an understatement. I felt a lot better about braving this place in the dead of night with minimal gear since she was the one leading the way. Now, we just had to reach the temple, broker a divine deal or two, and get back in one piece.

* * *

The shrikes tired about the same time Isandri began to slow her pace, and after about four hours of zigzagging through the jungle, we were forced to stop and take a breather. Aloft in the massive trees, we found an open spot on a branch with more than enough space for us to stretch our legs while the shrikes and Isandri lay down to rest.

“No campfires,” Isa warned as she sank down into an empty spot beside me and let out a loud, heavy sigh. “The light draws things from the jungle, and we certainly don’t want that kind of attention now.”

“Agreed,” Jaevid murmured as he sat on my other side.

Roxus and Garnett settled in, too, and despite not having a fire, we found ourselves sitting in a circle with nothing to look at in the middle but the few bags of gear we’d brought along. In the tense silence, my mind raced back through the twisting jungle all the way to where Phoebe and my parents were sitting, waiting for me to return. Would it be weeks until I saw them again? Or months? What if I missed the birth of my child?

What if I didn’t make it back at all?

“Isa, if you’re up for it, we should discuss what you know about the temple,” Jaevid spoke up suddenly, jarring me from those agonizing questions.

“Very little, I’m afraid,” she replied, her vivid green-and-yellow hued eyes staying focused ahead as she seemed to ponder that. “It is very old, predating any of the other structures found in Luntharda—even the temple of Paligno you are already familiar with. For that reason, the king and queen asked for my insight, as my people are far more accustomed to researching and preserving ancient ruins in Nar’Haleen. But what I have found is most mysterious. As best I can tell, it appears to pay homage to Proleus, the God of War, but the architecture isn’t Lunthardan craftsmanship. I’m honestly not quite sure what culture created it.”

“Arlan would likely know,” Garnett said as she leaned back on her hands and looked up into the darkness of the interwoven canopy above. “He’s always been on edge about going into Luntharda, though. I suspect because it’s a bit close to Avora.”

“Could that be the answer, then?” Jaevid guessed. “Could the temple be Avoran?”

“I doubt it,” Roxus muttered. He sat hunched forward, legs and arms crossed, and his gaze fixed down on the ground before him. “Avorans never thought much of Proleus. He was more favored by the Holvradix elves and the Tibrans.”

“Tibrans?” Jaevid sat a little straighter at the name. “Why would they have ruins that old here?”

Roxus’s wide, bony shoulders shrugged under his ragged coat. “Their empire once spanned a lot of this area,” he grumbled, his voice hard and rough like he’d spent too long puffing on that beloved pipe of his. “They were one of the first human kingdoms to openly war with the Avoran elves eons ago. If there was anything left of them in this part of the world, it’s probably been buried and long forgotten.”

“And who is Proleus, exactly?” I pressed, not really interested in ancient history. But gods? Well, I wanted to learn whatever I could about someone we were about to potentially ask for help. “You said he was a god of war. I take it he’s not the warm and fuzzy, Thatcher-esque brand of deity, then?”

Roxus gave a bemused snort and finally lifted his chin enough that our eyes met from underneath his unruly mop of shoulder-length curly hair. “No. Not exactly. I’m no priest, but the folk in my homeland like to pay lip service to him when it suits them. Supposedly, he only respects the strong—and not just in body. Mental fortitude, absolute emotional control, relentless force of will, and endurance under pressure are traits that are said to please him. He favors the heart of a true warrior.” Roxus chuckled hoarsely as he glanced around at all of us and then bowed his head again. “Any of you think you’ve got those kinds of marbles rattling around in your can?”

Garnett’s mouth scrunched to one side as she looked around at our group, too. Of us all, she was probably the strongest physically. Jaevid had proven many times that he had a relentless force of will. Isandri had the mental fortitude of a sage twice her age. And I’d had emotional control beaten into me by the Ulfrangar since I was old enough to walk. But all of that in just one person? I wasn’t sure who among us fit that bill, and I didn’t know Roxus well enough to even make a guess at whether or not he could.

Isandri studied Roxus more carefully, almost like she suspected he might know a lot more than he was divulging right now. Or, maybe she was just surprised he knew as much as he did about the gods. “Proleus is not a wrathful god, by what I know of him. He is only glorified by noble victory, and holds personal honor as his greatest virtue,” she said. “I did not see any of his symbols within the ruins, but our excavation had only just begun.”

“What made you think the ruins might be his, then?” I asked.

Her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Some of the decorum featured items like bronze shields, spears, javelins, and statues wearing helmets with long war headdresses or wreaths of victory. I would expect to see such things in a temple dedicated to Proleus, but again, his insignia was missing.”

“And what would that be?” Jaevid pressed, seeming to hang on her every word. “What are his symbols?”

“The wolf,” she replied matter-of-factly. “More distinctly, a black wolf.”

A cold shiver crawled under my skin, chilling me all the way to my fingers and toes as I sat and listened. I’d worn the emblem of a wolf myself, years ago. The Ulfrangar used a silver one with three eyes as their emblem. I had to wonder … could they somehow be connected to Proleus?

No. Surely not. The Ulfrangar were an ancient organization, sure. But they weren’t known for their upstanding moral virtues in battle. The opposite, actually.

Whatever symbol they chose to wear, they acted more like jackals than wolves.

“I suppose we’ll just have to hope one of us suits his fancy, then.” Garnett sighed and fidgeted with the end of one of her braided ginger ponytails.

“Or that he’s even willing to manifest and grant us an audience at all,” Jaevid agreed.

Isa arched her back and stretched her arms above her head, as though trying to shake off the stiffness of flying so far for so long. “Regardless, we should reach the temple by dawn,” she said with a yawn. “I think I’ll lie down for a moment and rest.”

“We all should,” Jaevid suggested. “No need to reach the temple already dead on our feet, especially since we don’t really know what we might be up against when we get there. I’ll take first watch.”

“I’ll join you,” I volunteered. Might as well. Sleep never came easy to me, even years after leaving the Ulfrangar far behind me. I could go for days before I needed to rest, and even then, it was always a fight to get my mind and senses to calm enough that I could actually drift off.

I doubted I’d win that battle here, anyway. Not with so many strange sounds and animal calls echoing through the dark of this wild, forbidding jungle. Something about this place, with its constant dimness, dense undergrowth, and thick, humid air made my skin crawl. It was that sense of being watched, as though something unknown was lurking just beyond my field of vision.

Like a predator just waiting for me to take one wrong step.

25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dawn brought the relief of beams of warm sunlight that broke through the canopy like streams of radiant gold that shone upon the jungle floor and lit the way ahead of us. There wasn’t time to sit around and savor a Lunthardan sunrise, however. We had work to do and ground to cover.

With her strength renewed, Isandri led us swiftly to the northeast, deeper into the jungle. It was strange to go so far without seeing any signs of settlement or civilization. Even with the Ulfrangar, we’d always stuck within a few miles of a city. Here, you could go for days on end, lost and hopeless, and never come close enough to a city for anyone to even hear you scream. It gave me a new appreciation for the Lunthardan scouts, like Reigh, who had been trained to survive here.

Hm. I might even tell him that—providing we both survived to see one another again.

As we drew close to the temple grounds, we ran into a group of young scouts running patrols a few miles outside a temporary camp they had built for the researchers and workers still excavating the site. They chatted excitedly with Isandri, who apparently had become quite fluent with the Gray elven language. I suppose Reigh had probably taught her some of that.

Isandri and the young scouts swapped greetings and information, then they stood there and gaped at Jaevid with amazement while we prepared to set off again. It made Garnett burst into a fit of giggling as soon as we started moving again, and Jaevid’s whole head flushed with embarrassment.

“You’d think after so many years, they’d be less impressed,” I taunted him a little, unable to hold back a smirk. “You’ve become old news in Maldobar, after all.”

His mouth scrunched bitterly and he flicked me an irritated, sideways glare.

Too easy.

After less than an hour, Isandri slowed her pace and began moving more cautiously through the tree boughs. Her ears stayed perked as she leapt soundlessly from one limb to another, swishing her tail and listening to the ground below. The shrikes shivered and twitched, making nervous growling, humming sounds as they sank low into their powerful shoulders and snapped their bony jaws. Something had them on edge.

Shimmering in a radiant beam of sunlight that poured down from a hole in the canopy—I finally saw what.

Bathed in the golden light, the bust of a muscular male form standing tall and straight leaned slightly to one side, as though the vines and roots that snaked up its legs had begun to pull it down. The shining white stone beneath peaked through the foliage, as though half-dressing the towering structure in drapes of leafy green cloth. With its face covered by a helmet with a sweeping feathered crest, the robust figure also held a massive sword in one hand and a round shield in the other.

Hmm. No wonder Isa had assumed this might be some sort of homage to Proleus. It certainly smacked of “war god” to me.

The more I studied the area around the bust, the more I picked out the outlines of a broad courtyard and low, rectangular buildings that had been nearly buried under the plantlife. Toppled stone columns lay in heaps, overgrown with moss and vines. Invading tree roots buckled the ground of the once-paved square, leaving hunks of white stone heaped into cracked hills.

To their credit, the workers had obviously been very busy carefully unearthing the ruins from the jungle entanglement. They had built temporary shelters and spiraling staircases in the trees around it, and there were portions of the jungle floor that were cleared away for larger artifacts to be spread out, cleaned and examined. More areas of the dark soil had also been dug away to reveal stone roadways leading away from that central square.

“We believed this temple might have been the center of a much larger settlement. But we have only just begun to learn the secrets of this place,” Isandri explained as she gracefully shifted back into her elven form and beckoned for us to follow. “This way. The entrance is not far.”

Jaevid and I swapped a wary look. I knew he had a history with ancient jungle temples—not all of them positive. I had to wonder if he also had that same, eerie feeling I did. That sense of being watched by something.

It didn’t seem like the right time to ask, though.

With my nerves drawn as taut as lute-strings, I dismounted and checked the strapping of the cross-sheath I wore to carry my two longswords strapped onto my back. I wasn’t about to take a step through this jungle without some manner of weapon. Fortunately, I’d brought along plenty.

I followed the rest of our group as we dismounted and began our descent to the jungle floor. Workers greeted Isandri and stared curiously at us as we made our way down the nearest spiraling staircase, around and around, until we reached the ground.

Standing with my boots sinking into the soft, damp soil, I stared up at the looming fern fronds, colossal trees, and flowers that were bigger than my head. The air was slightly cooler, but heavier with moisture, and water droplets sparkled on the broad leaves and curling fern fronds like scattered diamonds. Dense moss carpeted the earth between a network of tree roots as big around as my leg that snaked through the undergrowth.

“A long way from the tavern, aren’t we?” Roxus chuckled as he ambled over to stand beside me. “You know they’ve got carnivorous trees here? Trees that eat people! Can’t swing a cat in here without hitting something that wants to squeeze the life out of you like a cream-filled pastry and swallow you whole.”

I flicked him an exasperated glare. “Thank you for that mental image.”

He laughed dryly. “I’ll be glad when we get our feet on civilized ground.”

Well, no argument there.

We followed Isandri in a single-file line, navigating the cut paths through the foliage, into the ruins. Even Isa stopped for a moment to stare up at the huge, leaning bust in the middle of the courtyard. It towered at around twenty feet to the top of its crested helmet, and the style of the engraving was sharp, angular, and almost primitive with very few fine features cut into the stone. Interesting. No wonder Isa believed it wasn’t Lunthardan in make.

Navigating the uneven stones and rubble, Isandri brought us to a place where a grove of willow-like trees with long, blossoming fronds veiled an even larger structure. A large, square stone building stood at the top of a broad, steep staircase that led nearly straight up. There must have been more than two hundred steps, and it appeared that the excavation workers had already cleared a path up them through the overgrowth of dirt, moss, plants, and fallen leaves.

At the very top, where the building perched on a wide, solid stone base, the workers had also erected tents and temporary shacks on either side of the single, dark entryway that led into the structure.

The ominous doorway stood open, like the entrance to a cave, and just the sight of it made my stomach drop and every muscle in my body tense. Something about it felt … off. I couldn’t put my finger on why. Caves and caverns had never bothered me before, and saying anything about it felt stupid. It was an old ruin. Not a trap.

Even if every instinct in my brain screamed that it felt exactly like one.

* * *

“Lady Isandri, you’ve returned! And just in time!” A Gray elven man in long, deep purple scholar’s robes rushed out of a nearby tent. He tripped all over himself as he ran out to meet us, breathless and grinning from one pointed ear to the other. “It’s marvelous—we’ve just made the most spectacular discovery!”

“What is it?” she faced him with a calm, almost relieved smile.

“Oh, well, we’re not altogether sure, my lady. But—but we have theories, of course! I was hoping you would come and see for yourself. Perhaps you can offer some of that expert insight?” He laughed nervously, his multihued eyes darting to the rest of us like he’d just realized we were there. “Oh! I-I do apologize. I did not realize you had brought guests. I am Filoran, lead historian for the queen’s court. And you are?”

“In a hurry,” Roxus grumbled.

We all glared at him—except for Filoran, who just blinked in confused surprise.

“They are my friends,” Isa assured him, and then motioned to where Jaevid stood near the back of our group. “I thought they might provide some additional insight. I believe you may have heard of some of them.”

Leaning in closer, the historian squinted at Jae for an instant. Then he jerked back, eyes going wide, and face flooding with embarrassed rosy color. “I-I see! I had no idea! Welcome, esteemed Lord Jaevid. We are honored by your presence! If there’s anything we can do to—”

Jaevid waved a hand and bowed his head, as though to dismiss any notion that he wanted special treatment. “Not at all. Please, carry on with your work as before. We will do our best not to get in your way.”

The historian rambled on, as frantic and flustered as a wet hen, before he finally seemed to remember himself and got back on topic. He explained that while they had been exploring the interior of the temple before us, they had found many mysterious chambers. Most, he described, were living quarters, baths, and even what seemed to be a kitchen for preparing food. Others had held stockpiles of ancient weapons—namely shields and curved blades much like the Gray elven kafki that Reigh used.

“Initially, we assumed this was simply a temple,” Filoran said excitedly. “But based on this most recent discovery, I think it is far more than that. I believe this was, in fact, a monastery of sorts. A place where a few chosen individuals who served this god not only worshipped, but lived and trained.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Trained for what?”

“Battle? Potential invaders? Who knows! That’s the beauty of discovery, my friend! One great mystery begets another!” Filoran was practically vibrating with excitement, and something about it sort of made me want to hit him. Maybe he’d calm down a little before he gave himself a heart attack. “But I think this most recent chamber has the potential to be the answer to so many of our questions. It is truly an enigma all its own. You must come see it firsthand!”

“Lead on, then,” Isandri said, somehow managing to maintain that calm, patient smile. Admirable. But, then again, she was used to putting up with Reigh. Perhaps saintly patience was her finest virtue.

Filoran didn’t need any more encouragement. He jabbered like a sparrow that had just found a bread crust, and practically skipped all the way to the huge opening that led into the temple.

Gazing up at the building, there was nothing elaborate or decorated about it. No engravings in the stonework or exterior of the building. It was sleek, perfectly squared, and efficient. Built strictly for function rather than beautiful aesthetic.

And beyond that massive doorway? Nothing but pitch darkness, as far as I could see.

Filoran wasted no time handing a torch to Isandri while he lit another one for himself. He demonstrated their system of tying the ends of long spools of colored rope to our belts before entering—an easy way to keep from getting lost as you explored the tunnels and chambers below. Clever. A scholar sitting by the ends of the spools scribbled our names onto each respective color, to keep track of who came back and who didn’t.

“Now then, follow me, and do be sure to stay close together,” he said after fixing the end of a yellow rope to the back of his own belt. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get lost in a maze of ancient ruins now, would we?”

Once again, Jaevid and I exchanged a knowing stare from across our group. Lost in there? No. But we had come to potentially awaken the ancient god residing there to barter with it for power. No big deal. Not even worth mentioning.

Our chatty tour guide babbled all the way to the edge of that doorway. There, however, he seemed to sober up some at the sight of the inky darkness beyond it. One by one, we followed him through it.

Or—the others did.

I hesitated at the threshold, staring into the dark, as cool air flowed from within. It rustled in my hair and rekindled that prickly sense of unease that still swam in the pit of my stomach. Nothing about this felt right. Something in the aura of the entire temple made my pulse kick harder in my chest. That oppressive sense of being watched, as though some unseen presence was leaning right over my shoulder, intensified. I just wasn’t sure how I could express that to the others without sounding paranoid and irrational.

Arrrrgh. I had to pull myself together. I shut my eyes tightly and bit a curse through my teeth. We might only be a few steps away from a solution to helping Reigh and the others.

So why did it feel like I was only a few steps away from hell, instead?

26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Nearly a mile beneath the surface, lost amidst a network of tunnels and chambers I knew I’d never be able to reverse-navigate on my own, apprehension started to turn my stomach sour. I didn’t have a great history when it came to traveling underground, but at least this place didn’t seem to have switchbeast infestation. A small blessing.

During our subterranean hike, I’d come to fully appreciate the scholars’ rope tether system that kept us linked to the outside world. Our colored ropes had run out of length long ago, stopping at another station manned by another young elven man, with more giant spools. We tied off our current tethers to the new spools, then attached the new ropes to our belts, and kept going. We had repeated that process twice before we finally stopped, and Filoran announced, “Here it is.”

Holding his torch aloft, our jittery guide revealed another passage directly before us. This one, however, was the first doorway we had encountered that had some detail work engraved around the outside of it. Sharp, angular designs led up to the top of the doorway, where a shield had been carved into the rock.

A shield … with the head of a wolf on it.

“Proleus,” Isandri whispered in quiet reverence.

“Precisely,” Filoran agreed. “It is the first time we have found any sort of defining mark of whom this temple might be dedicated to. We suspected, of course. Now, we can be certain.”

“But why here? Why this door?” Garnett asked. “If the whole complex was his, why not have his emblem elsewhere?”

Filoran took a step back out of the way, motioning for the rest of us to come in closer to take a look. “It’s just a theory, of course, but we suspect it is because the rest of the settlement here might have been open to visitors and members outside the sacred order that dwelled here. This, however, is a barrier. Beyond this point, we are on holy ground. Perhaps, in order to pass through, one was required to complete some sacred rite? We may never know. But the real treat lies just inside. Our tethers won’t reach to the far edge of the chamber, but it is safe to untie them. Just be careful to leave the ropes well organized and remember the color of yours.”

No one dared to say a word as we quickly untied the ropes from our belts and walked through that doorway. My breath caught as I passed into the chamber beyond. Every rustle and footstep echoed through the vast space like the interior of a cave. But true to the historian’s word—this was anything but a common cavern. Every surface of the wide, circular room had been meticulously carved from the rock. The ceiling stood, tall and domed, more than forty feet overhead, overshadowing a room that must have been nearly a hundred feet across. A series of huge, square-cut columns stood around the perimeter of the room, each one holding a bronze brazier affixed to the side in the shape of a bronze wolf’s head holding a lamp in its teeth.

And the floor … Gods and Fates.

In the very center of the room, roughly sixty feet in diameter, a massive circular relief had been cut straight into the stone floor like a medallion. It depicted rings upon rings of symbols of boars, tigrex, bears, serpents, and men locked in combat with swords and shields—all surrounding the central figure of a wolf’s head made from pure obsidian glass. The black wolf. They symbol of Proleus.

As soon as I saw it, a knot of heat sparked to life in the middle of my chest—a heat I knew all too well. It sent energy like a shiver through my body, making my hands clench into fists at my side. My heartbeat slowed. My mind went quiet. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it.

“This is as far as we have dared to go,” Filoran explained as he stepped cautiously to the edge of that massive, round engraving. “We need to do a great deal more research, first.”

“Why?” Jaevid asked as he hedged over to join him, staring out across the room.

“Ah, well, you see …” Filoran scooted one of his feet, shifting a few tiny pebbles on the floor to the edge of the engraved medallion. The pebbles rattled and clinked across the ground until, right on the outermost ring, they plummeted down into a crack about an inch wide.

We waited in tense silence, listening to see if they ever hit the bottom of a chamber or tunnel below.

Nothing.

“We suspect that this entire structure is built to move independently of the rest of the room. It is not simply a decorative engraving; it is some sort of device. We just aren’t sure what it’s for, or what might happen if someone were to put their whole weight on it,” Filoran continued. “I have my theories, of course, but until someone actually—”

“We’ll do it,” Jaevid spoke up suddenly, fixing me with one of his signature steely, determined glares. “It’s what we came here for.”

I set my jaw and nodded.

“One at a time,” Isandri agreed.

“Wh-What? No! It’s too dangerous!” Filoran squawked in protest. “We have no idea what this device is even for! It could be dangerous!”

“Absolutely,” Roxus snorted.

“O-Or deadly!” Filoran whimpered.

“Most likely,” I muttered.

Our frazzled historian gripped his torch so tight it shook in his hands. “And you’re still going to do it?!”

“Dangerous and deadly is what we do best,” Garnett giggled with a wink. “You just go wait by the door there, love. Take some notes if you like. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“I’ll go first,” Jaevid said as we all gathered in a line, right on the edge of the huge circular medallion.

“Oooh, no you don’t,” Garnett protested. “No one’s going at anything alone down here. We all go together. On three, yeah?”

Everyone nodded.

Well, except Jaevid. He just sighed, muttered something under his breath, and shook his head.

“One,” Garnett started counting.

“Two,” Isandri continued, already holding her foot up in preparation.

“Three,” Jaevid finished.

All of us stepped onto the medallion at once.

A second passed. Then another. Everyone stood frozen, staring around in tense preparation for something—anything—to happen.

Nothing did.

I relaxed, letting my arms drop back to my sides where I’d been ready to take my blades out at a moment’s notice. Jaevid let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Garnett scowled at the ground as though she were genuinely disappointed.

From the doorway, still shaking like a leaf in autumn while he held that torch, Filoran shouted angrily, “You are the most reckless, thoughtless, irresponsible lot I have ever—”

Darkness swallowed the room as the torches he and Isandri held suddenly snuffed out. The sound of something grinding, like stone upon stone, rumbled under our feet as the medallion flinched and slowly began to turn.

I clenched my teeth, slapping my hands over my ears and nearly falling to my knees as a deep, thunderous voice suddenly boomed in my head like a tolling tower bell.

“FIVE HAVE COME TO THE PROVING GROUND, BUT ONLY ONE STANDS WORTHY.”

I forced my eyes open, still reeling as a shriek, yell and scream from the others filled the chamber. One by one, they all flew backward, shoved by some unseen force, until they smacked against the wall on the outer perimeter of the room.

I braced myself, waiting to get tossed, as well.

Instead, the medallion shifted again beneath my feet, and the eyes of the black wolf in the center began to glow red like two campfire cinders.

VOOOM!

A wall of translucent, radiant red light spread between all the pillars around the room, ensnaring me in the center on the medallion with all my companions on the outside. One by one, around the room, the braziers burst to life with flickering flame.

Gods—what was happening? Was this some kind of trap? Why hadn’t I been tossed out like the others?

I staggered forward as the medallion spun again, almost falling to my knees as it suddenly locked into place again, aligning some of those stone rings so that the symbols of the boar all lined up. Before me, at the center of the medallion, a column of that blood red light shot upward from the obsidian wolf’s head.

The bellow of a beast shook the chamber and rattled the stone an instant before the creature stepped from the light, materializing out of thin air. Bathed in the red glow of that translucent wall, a massive boar charged forward and faced me. Its eyes gleamed like bottomless red pits, and its coal-black fur shone in the firelight. It must have been twenty feet long, twice the size of the largest bull I had ever seen, with tusks as long as my leg.

Holy. Gods.

The voice thundered in my ears again, as deep and powerful as the roll of summer thunder over the mountains. It made my spine curl and sent a bolt of fresh adrenaline surging through my veins like I’d been struck by lightning.

“YOUR VICTORY AWAITS, CHALLENGER. TAKE UP ARMS AND PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS.”

* * *

With a piercing bellow, the monstrous boar charged straight for me.

There wasn’t time to think.

I ducked into a side-roll, flinging my body with all my strength to the side and skidding out of the way as the huge creature rumbled past me like a runaway war machine. One stamp from its hoof could crush my skull like an egg. I didn’t even want to imagine what those tusks might do.

It didn’t matter, though. I was not going to die here. Not like this.

Reaching back, I drew my longswords and darted forward, keeping my path arced around the perimeter of our arena. That creature was huge. It would have a hard time maneuvering, even with sixty-or-so feet to charge through. I had to be a moving target, find the right time, and strike.

“Murdoc!” Jaevid shouted in panic, his features barely discernible through the wavering barrier of red light. He reached out to touch it, and immediately let out a cry of pain and stumbled back like he’d been burned.

Right. These must have been some of the rules of this proving ground. No outside help. No escape.

I’d have to get creative.

The massive boar wheeled around with a squeal of frustration, stamped, and started to charge after me again. I couldn’t outrun him. But I didn’t need to.

I ran straight for that wall, the beast charging right behind me, and sprang at the last second, kicking off the wall and into a backflip as high as I could. Pain shot through my leg, instantly leaving my foot numb. It didn’t matter. I whipped my body into a tight spin just as the boar charged beneath me, and landed on its back. The creature pitched and began to tip, like it was going to go into a death roll to try and crush me instead.

I whipped my swords over my hand and immediately plunged them down into the back of the boar’s neck—right into the soft place I knew would be lethal.

The flawless points of my weapons cut through the boar’s thick, wiry hide like soft cheese. It pitched and bucked, squealing and trying to fling me off. I gave my blades another brutal twist, then ripped them free and sprang off.

BOOOM!

The boar’s body hit the ground with a thud that made me stagger. My chest heaved and sweat ran down the sides of my face as I stood back, gripping my weapons in preparation—just in case that monster made another false move.

It didn’t. The massive boar lay still, not making a sound, as a pool of dark blood flowed out from the wound I’d left. One strike. One kill. At least, over the years, my own skillset hadn’t suffered much.

Slowly, I dared to turn around, looking back out through the rippling wall of red light to where the rest of my companions stood watching. Their faces were a mixture of horror and relief. Not that I didn’t understand why. I just had to wonder … was that it?

Was it over?

Then, as the medallion shifted under my boots again, I got my answer.

I whirled around to find the body of the huge boar gone, like it had disappeared into thin air. The head of the obsidian wolf glowed again, sending up another beam of that brilliant red light. A dark shape moved within it—something slightly smaller and far leaner than the boar. Another opponent? What was it now?

Two leathery black wings stretched out of the light suddenly, unfurling to the radiant red light as the creature rose up and let out a booming roar of fury. The flames sent rippling shadows over its muscular body, glittering off black and red scales, horns, and long curled claws. It landed before me, long tail lashing and jaws snapping as venom dribbled off its chin and ignited into a pool of liquid flame on the floor.

Gods and Fates, that was … Blite?!

27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

My heart gave a frantic lurch, seeming to stop altogether, as I stared up into the face of a beast I knew all too well. Blite was my companion. I trusted that dragon with my life. He would never betray me.

No—no, this couldn’t be him. Not really. This was a trick. A cruel ploy to try to get inside my head.

It wouldn’t work.

Not when I knew with every fiber of my being that Blite would never betray me.

My dragon rushed me, fangs bared and spines bristled down his back, jaws open for the kill. Panic rushed through my body and I drew back, barely managing to feint to the side and dodge as his jaws snapped barely an inch off my shoulder.

Curse it! Didn’t he know it was me?

“Blite! Stop!” I shouted as I ran to the side, barely dodging a sweeping lash of his tail. “It’s me!”

WHOOOSH!

A plume of burning venom shot past me so close the heat singed my cheek and scorched my leg. I let out a yell of frustrated pain and staggered to a halt. My dragon hissed and crawled closer, his massive black claws scraping over the medallion beneath us. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t fight him! I didn’t want to hurt him, but he was leaving me no choice!

Dodging and zigzagging, I tried to sprint around wide so maybe I could get in close enough to make a tactical strike like I had with the boar. I knew every one of Blite’s weaknesses. He was my mount, and we’d been flying together for fourteen years. I knew he was slower on the left side. Not by a lot, but enough that I might be able to get in to land a crippling hit. I’d have to be fast. No hesitating.

Kill or be killed.

The Ulfrangar way.

That thought sent a jolt through my brain like a punch to the nose. It rattled me down to the very marrow of my bones.

No. I wasn’t an Ulfrangar anymore. I had left that life behind me. I was free now.

I could choose a different way.

BAM!

I screamed as pain exploded through my body and I was snatched off the ground. My blades slipped from my grasp as my body flew through the air and landed with a thud that knocked the breath from my lungs. I rolled and skipped over the stone floor, finally landing on my side with my vision spinning in and out of focus.

He’d hit me. I wasn’t sure how. Maybe with his tail or a swipe of his claws. But I could feel the blood running from the corners of my mouth as I shakily tried to sit up.

“B-Blite,” I slurred as I dragged myself up to my feet again. “I-I know this isn’t you. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

My black dragon roared, crawling forward and drawing in that deep, signature breath that came before the deadly spray of burning venom. From this close, there was no way to avoid it. He would hit me, and I’d die in pure agony.

But I’d rather burn alive than hurt my dragon.

“It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you,” I gasped, my voice catching as a white-hot pain surged through my side with every step. “But I … w-will … not … fight you!”

Blite snarled, showing every one of his jagged fangs, as his nostrils gave one final flare. I caught a glimpse of myself in his brilliant blue eyes an instant before it hit.

I shut my eyes as the rush of heat scorched over me, swallowing me whole. Every inch of my body burned with agony. I opened my mouth to cry out, to beg any god that might be listening to make it end, but there was nothing—no breath or sound. Just endless, raw, searing pain.

And suddenly, in an instant, there wasn’t.

The fire vanished.

Wh-What?

I staggered forward, barely catching myself as I gripped my chest and heaved for breath. Looking up, I gaped as my dragon’s form slowly dissolved away into curling black smoke.

Then I was alone. I stood motionless on the medallion again, gasping for breath with blood still dribbling from my chin. My side thrummed with wave after wave of stabbing pain that was probably a broken rib or two. It made my vision swerve every time I took in a frantic, ragged breath.

What was happening? Was it over? I’d lost, hadn’t I?

Staring around the medallion, I waited for something else to happen. Another monster to appear. Another enemy to fight. Or for all of this to end.

But it didn’t.

I turned back, searching beyond that rippling red shield of light for my companions. They all stood clumped together, still watching. Even through the haze of that barrier, I could see the frenzied look of rage and frustration on Jaevid’s face. I suppose, if he could have, he would have jumped right into this arena with me.

“They cannot help you,” a familiar, deep voice spoke to me in a heavy Damarian accent. “That is the way of the Proving Ground.”

Every muscle in my body locked up solid. My blood rushed like an icy river, freezing everything. My thoughts. My breathing. My heartbeat.

O-Oh gods. No. Please, no.

Spinning around, I stared into the face of a man I thought I would never see again. He wore the same black and silver leather armor, the matching silver cuffs bearing the three-eyed wolf’s head on his forearms. His lengthy black hair was slicked back, revealing angular features, deeply set golden eyes, sun-bronzed skin, and a neatly groomed beard.

My voice shook, coming out as nothing but a broken, desperate gasp as I dared to speak his name.

“Rook.”

* * *

It was him. Rook. My handler. The man who had raised me in the order of the Ulfrangar when I was a child. He had chosen me, and spent years molding me into a monster fit for the hunt.

But … how? How was he here now?!

I’d fought him—killed him! He looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him on that stormy night outside of Dayrise. The night we had fought for the very last time. The night I had cut him down.

Rook stared back at me, already holding his xiphos blade in one hand as he gestured to the medallion around us. It shifted and spun again, locking into place with all the carved men in armor facing one another.

“I am impressed that you made it this far, pup,” he said as he took a few calculated steps to the side. I knew that movement—that look in his eyes. This was a dance we’d done a thousand times.

And on pure instinct, I began moving, too. It was as though all the pain from the hits I’d taken just slipped away. Pushed down. Irrelevant as my mind fell into the numb silence of the duel like a stone to the bottom of a lake.

I stepped the same way, mirroring his movements, and only stopping long enough to pick up my longswords. My sweaty fingers squeaked on the leather grips of the hilts, and my heart pumped in slow, steady beats.

“You’ve grown,” he said, his golden eyes narrowing as we slowly stepped around one another, like two wolves circling before a brawl. “And I hear you have a new name. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Especially when we both know what you truly are.”

I bit down hard as anger flared through my chest like a burst of dragon fire. “You know nothing about who I am,” I snarled.

“Don’t I?” He roared suddenly, stepping in with his blade already spinning over his hand like a silver blur.

I kicked off, rushing in to meet him with my longswords swung wide.

CLAANG!

Sparks flashed in the dim red light as our blades locked and clashed, swiping and whirling in a deadly dance until we both drew back.

“I know everything there is to know about you, pup.” He gave a sarcastic laugh and shook his head, as though this were all a bad joke. “Even the things you try to forget. I know what you see in your nightmares, what you scream to the dark as you shake in fear. I know what destroys you every time you look into her eyes!”

“NO!” I shouted as I rushed him again. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. This was just another sick, twisted trick! “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

Rook whipped his xiphos as he dipped and dodged, evading my blur of attacks. He ducked back and swung in, as fast as a striking viper. His blade sunk deep into my thigh, and I let out a shout of pain as he ripped it free and immediately struck again.

With a primal growl, I threw up a frantic cross-parry, and barely managed to catch his blade before it sailed down again. With a violent shove, I sent him stumbling backward. That was it. The opening I needed.

I lunged in, relentless as I whipped my swords downward toward his chest.

I missed it—the way his body was angled at the last second. He dipped easily under my swings and drove his elbow into my gut. My vision went white, and I rocked back onto my heels.

Rook came around with a leg sweep, dropping me onto my back. My blades clattered across the stone, far out of reach.

“You will always be Ulfrangar, pup,” Rook seethed as he drove the point of his sword down toward my head. “You lived as one of us, and now you will die like one! Like a dog! Like a MURDERER!”

With a desperate cry, I managed to twist my body so his sword hit the ground less than an inch from my ear. Rook drew back, preparing for another strike.

Up. Gods and Fates, I had to get up!

As his second swing came down, I set my teeth against the pain and kicked into a backward roll.

CLAAANG!

His xiphos sparked off the stone, missing me again.

I leapt to my feet, and immediately staggered as the agony from the wound in my leg nearly made me collapse. My pant leg was already drenched in blood. I couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Rook laughed as he strolled slowly toward me with his arms spread wide and a twisted grin on his lips. “What did you think, pup? That you’d get yourself a new name, a wife, and a dragon and it would all just go away?”

I bared my teeth and growled, emotions boiling in my blood like molten rock. All the rage. The fear. The dread. The years of pain and regret. Seeing him—hearing his voice again—brought it all erupting to the surface.

Something clicked in my head so suddenly, it snatched the breath from my chest again. I stared at him, the man I’d painted as my own personal demon in every one of those warped nightmares. And I knew.

Rook was not the monster. He called down my dragon on that night. He begged Jaevid to spare me. He tried to throw the Ulfrangar off my trail so I could escape.

Rook hadn’t been the one who destroyed me. He was the one … who saved me. I didn’t hate him. I never had.

I hated … myself.

That realization washed over me like a cool spring rain, dousing all my infernal rage, and making my arms drop slack at my sides. I didn’t want to fight him. He wasn’t my enemy.

No, I wanted something else. Something no blade or battle could ever give me. The thing that woke me in the night, sweating and shaking with fear. The thing that soured in my heart like a rot that would never heal.

“Rook.” My voice cracked as I watched him draw back his blade again, as though preparing to cut my head off in one, effortless stroke. “I … am so sorry … that I couldn’t save you, too.”

Everything around me suddenly went white, as though the room had been engulfed in blinding light.

I shut my eyes and tried to shield my face, cringing back. But there was no escaping it. No hiding from that blinding light. Something warm and soft, like the brush of a summer wind, prickled up from my feet, through my legs, along my spine, and all the way out through my fingers. The pain in my side and leg ebbed away, as though my whole body had suddenly gone weightless. I was floating in that light, drifting in the endless silence. Completely at peace.

“Well done. Anyone can be taught to fight and kill. That alone does not make a warrior,” a deep male voice said suddenly, seeming to come from everywhere at once. “But only a rare few can claim control over the strength of their own mind. That is true power. You are worthy.”

“Who are you?” I heard myself ask, but I couldn’t feel my mouth moving. Everything had gone numb, bathed and weightless in that brilliant light.

“I am the one who goes ahead of armies. I am the kingmaker who sharpens destiny’s sword and carries the banner of final victory. I am the caller of storms, the vengeance of the just, and the fortress of the honorable,” the voice boomed, growing louder and seeming to vibrate through the light like a tolling cathedral bell. “I am Proleus, and you are worthy in my sight.”

Worthy? What did that mean? I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t muster a single sound.

“I know what stirs in the south. I know what covets our power,” the voice continued, seeming to grow nearer as a strange prickling heat stirred in my right hand.

My face twitched, and I could feel it—buzzing warmth that spread through my palm and fingers. It grew more intense, becoming hotter and hotter. Gods, what was happening? Was my hand on fire? I had to make it stop somehow before—

“The last war is coming, and you will carry my strength as your own. Know that when you fight, it will be in my name. You alone are worthy … to be named my paladin.”

* * *

“MURDOC!” I recognized Jaevid’s voice calling my name even before I opened my eyes to find him standing over me, his expression creased with worry. “Fates, what happened? Are you all right?”

Lying sprawled on my back, I honestly didn’t know. I tried to sit up, but my whole body ached and throbbed in protest. I cursed through my teeth and fell back again. “Wh-Where?”

“We’re in the temple of Proleus,” Isandri said as she and Jaevid helped me sit up. “We triggered some sort of trap. It separated us. We could see you fighting, but we couldn’t tell what it was.”

I blinked, trying to wrap my mind around everything that had just happened. I’d been trapped in that divinely powered arena. I’d fought a monstrous boar, my own dragon, and …

Wait a minute—did she just say they hadn’t seen any of that?

I frowned at all of them, trying to piece together what was real and what wasn’t. Had any of it been real? Or was it all just a nightmare. I didn’t know.

Not until I looked down at my right hand. My fingers grasped tightly around a weapon I’d never seen before. The beautiful bronze longsword was simple, but flawless. Its double-edged blade shone like a mirror, polished to perfection, and the hilt was padded with finely oiled black leather. The pommel was made to resemble the head of a wolf crafted from black obsidian glass.

“Incredible,” I breathed as I held it up, my arm still shaking some.

“Where did you find that?” Garnett eyed the weapon curiously.

There was no easy way to answer that question. I wasn’t sure how it had gotten there. But as I turned the blade over, I realized there was now something branded on the top of my hand: the same symbol of the wolf’s head that was carved into the middle of that medallion.

The symbol of Proleus.

“Murdoc?” Jaevid asked, as though trying to jar me out of my daze. Or, maybe he’d just noticed the freshly branded mark on my hand, too.

“It’s done,” I said at last, meeting his gaze with every ounce of resolve I could muster. “We have the war god’s blessing.”

Garnett gasped. “You mean …?”

I held up my hand to show the rest of them the mark. Then I leveled a meaningful stare at Jaevid. “Proleus knows the war is coming. He’s on our side now. We need to get to Nar’Haleen as soon as possible.”

A determined smile slowly curved over Jaevid’s lips. He stretched out a hand to take mine and helped pull me back to my feet. “Well, then, we shouldn’t waste another minute. Let’s go and help our friends, shall we?"

PART SEVEN

CLARKE

28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Clarke? Clarke, can you hear me? You’ve got to wake up,” someone called out through the darkness.

Was that … Noa?

Oh no, had I passed out again? What was happening?

I tried to move, to open my eyes, but my body refused to respond. Curse it, what was wrong? Why did every part of me feel so heavy and numb?

Was I … dying?

“Come on, Clarke!” Noa called again. “You can pull through this. Concentrate!”

“He hasn’t moved in a while,” Traegan pointed out, as though he were standing somewhere close by. “Maybe he hit his head when we all fell, eh? Had some bleeding in his brain that finally caught up to him? Look, I know you’re fond of him, but I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

“Just give him a minute,” Noa growled back. “Something’s been happening with Clarke practically since the day we found him washed up. He’s not a normal boy—I saw that much right away. He wouldn’t speak about it, and I haven’t pushed him to until now. Something about this place has triggered a response in him. ”

“Not normal? What, you mean all humans don’t have glowin’ eyes?” Traegan gasped sarcastically and then chuckled. “You’re the strangest lot I’ve ever met, I’ll grant you that.”

He really had no idea.

With a groan through clenched teeth, I finally managed to will my eyes open. Everything swerved in and out of focus, like I was looking at the world through the fogged lenses of my spectacles. Er, well, turns out … I was. Someone must have put them back on my face. Probably Noa. Maybe he thought they would help.

Noa let out a deep sigh of relief as soon as our gazes locked. His shoulders dropped and he slumped forward some, bowing his head as he muttered something in Rienkan I didn’t catch. “Welcome back again,” he murmured as he bent to help me sit up. “How do you feel?”

How did I feel? I-I wasn’t sure yet. Sitting up, my head lolled to the side as everything around me seemed to spin. My stomach rolled dangerously. Throw up. O-Oh gods, I was gonna—

I barely made it onto my hands and knees before I wretched. Thankfully, I didn’t have much in my stomach, and all that came up was bile and water. It didn’t make me feel any better, but at least it didn’t smell so bad.

“What happened?” Traegan asked, coming closer to lean over me. He handed down one of the waterskins we had, er, borrowed off one of the dead members of the Hands of Fate. “Swish your mouth first, and then take a drink, yeah?”

I obliged. With every small sip of cool, fresh water, my head seemed to clear. My hand shook some as I reached up to carefully slide my spectacles off again. I just had to know. I needed to see for myself if anything was different now.

I blinked around, watching Noa and Traegan’s haunted expressions morph from worry to surprise. After a few slow, deep breaths, I smiled back at them. No pain. No headaches or crushing pressure. No storm of whispering voices that threatened to drive me mad.

Just calm, blissful silence.

I-I … didn’t need my un-reading glasses anymore.

“What happened, Clarke? There was a strange wind, and all the bones of that monster turned to gray mist. Your eyes were glowing again, and you began to float in the air. It looked like you were talking to someone, and then you suddenly collapsed,” Noa explained.

Wow. I hadn’t really considered how things must have looked from the other side of my encounter with Avgior. No wonder they assumed I was dead or dying.

Looking down at my hands, I flexed my fingers in and out. I had shaken Avgior’s hand. But I didn’t feel any different now. Well, apart from not having that awful headache. Had anything changed? I couldn’t tell.

Regardless, I needed to be honest with Noa. Going forward, if this changed me in a negative way, I needed him to know about it. I needed him to keep an eye on me in case I did anything strange or bad.

So I did. I told Noa and Traegan everything I could remember about meeting Avgior, what he had revealed when it came to our past, and what I supposedly was. A missing piece of his essence. The last one, in fact.

“And this book—the codex—was the first piece?” Noa asked, his brow crinkled in bewilderment.

“I think so,” I replied. “It explains why I was so drawn to it before. I heard it calling to me in my dreams every night when I lived at the library, I just never understood why.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Traegan sat, scratching at his bearded chin with his good hand as he studied me through narrowed eyes. “You’re now the embodiment of an ancient dragon-god?”

Uhh, well, when he put it like that, it did sound pretty unbelievable.

“No offense, boy, but you don’t look very godlike to me,” he chuckled again, as though he found all of this completely ridiculous.

I deflated.

Noa shot him a scorching glare. “Seen many gods in mortal form, have you?” he fired back.

Traegan just shrugged his brawny shoulders. “No. But I doubt one would ever show up looking like a scrawny human boy.”

“I think you’d be surprised.” Noa snorted and looked away, as though the argument weren’t even worth it.

Maybe he was right.

I didn’t look like a god. Honestly, I didn’t feel like one, either. But I couldn’t deny everything that had happened. Something inside me had definitely changed.

I just hoped it was a change for the better.

“We need to figure out how to get out of here. With you and me already injured and not much good in a fight, we’ll have to be extra careful.” Traegan muttered and thumbed to Noa and himself. “Hopefully there’s no more of those Hands of Fate prowling around.”

Right. I didn’t know if I should say anything—but I had a feeling there probably were more of them. Something in the back of my mind told me they hadn’t found us by accident. We couldn’t assume they wouldn’t try to hunt us down again.”

“We go quietly then,” Noa agreed. “I would say we could go without a torch, since you can see just as well in the dark, but if there are Pitathi in their ranks, it won’t matter. Dark or not, they’ll spot us just the same.”

“Makes me nervous as a rabbit in a fox den knowing those red-eyed mongrels are working in the Hands of Fate. Honestly, what’s the emperor doing? That lot is naught but poison and hatred. Why, by all the stacked stones of the elders, would he enlist them into his service?”

A cold pang of dread cut through my stomach as I stared out across the rubble-strewn chamber before us. Without the bones, there was nothing left but empty space as far as my pathetic human eyes could see—which wasn’t all that far, even with the help of the torch.

If we got attacked again, we wouldn’t stand a chance. We needed help. We needed someone to find us. But no one knew where we were. Not even Kaili or any of the other villagers. We had no allies that could fight enemies like that.

We might as well have been on the surface of the moon.

Closing my eyes, I gripped my glasses tightly as I tried to focus all my concentration on a solution. An answer to this problem.

We need help, I thought as hard as I could. Someone, please … find us.

* * *

With Traegan in the front of our group and Noa hobbling along at the back with the torch held aloft, we trekked around the perimeter of the chamber until we found a small exit. Thanks to the damage to entire room after I had, um, accidentally caused an earthquake, it was hard to tell if it was originally part of the temple or not. But we didn’t have much of a choice. We had to press on.

After several hours, the crooked tunnel twisted around and stopped abruptly at a pile of rubble that had caved in from overhead. I couldn’t tell if it was a recent tunnel collapse, or something that had happened centuries ago, but Traegan insisted we could dig a way through.

“As something of an expert in rocks, I know an intentional cave-in when I see one,” he declared. “The stones are stacked too neatly. It’s been sealed off. The ceiling should be sound. We just have to make a way through.”

Noa flicked a sideways look at Traegan’s wounded arm and mumbled, “You plan on moving a lot of rocks with only one arm?”

“Fortunately, the gods thought to bless me with two,” Traegan bared back as he stomped toward the stack of rocks blocking our path forward. “I’ll manage.”

He did more than manage. Even with one arm incapacitated, Traegan rolled and hauled rocks like a stubborn ox. I couldn’t help but be impressed. He was half my height, but his shoulders and arms were thick with more hardened muscle than I’d ever had my entire life. He wasted no time getting a top layer of the stones moved out of the way.

Noa helped, too, and I tried rolling some of the smaller ones aside. But after several hours, we all had to stop. Drenched in sweat and weak with hunger, there was only so much we could do at a time—especially given their injuries.

“We could go back the way we came,” Noa suggested as he stared mournfully at the still head-high heap of large stones blocking our path.

“And do what? We didn’t pass any other tunnels or passages. This is the only way forward,” Traegan argued.

Good point. Even backtracking wouldn’t help us now.

We needed a different angle. A new solution.

Hmmm.

The idea hit me so suddenly, I almost fell over—as though it had been chucked at me like someone hurling apples at my head. No, not an idea. A memory.

I snapped to my feet and started for the heap of rocks.

I’d shaken them loose before. I could do it again.

“Clarke?” Noa said, his tone uneasy.

Standing before the blocked passage, I widened my stance and closed my eyes. Then I stretched out my hands ahead. Focus. I just had to focus. It was there, buried deep, just waiting to awaken again—power like a muscle that had atrophied over the eons.

I just had to trust that feeling.

I had to trust myself.

It started deep, like a tiny seed in the center of my mind. A little shiver of energy. But as soon as I felt it, and focused on it, that feeling grew. It swelled and exploded, blooming through every corner of my brain and surged out through all my extremities. I bit down hard as that sensation stretched me from the inside out, yawning to life and making my hands shake.

The tiny pebbles around my feet began to shift and rattle … and then slowly levitate.

More—I had to try harder. It wasn’t enough.

My chest heaved in deep breaths, my feet beginning to slide as the palms of my hands ebbed a brilliant golden light that lit up the tunnel. Wind stirred around me, snatching through my hair and billowing in my clothes.

And that feeling grew. It rushed through me like a roaring river, bursting through my chest and setting every nerve ablaze. My pulse thundered in my ears. My arms shook as something sprouted along my forearms. Spines? My fingernails grew longer and curled like claws. I could feel my incisors doing the same as a strange sensation spread along my scalp just over my ears.

Before me, the massive stones groaned, shifted, and lifted into the air. A jerk of one hand and five of them sailed off to the left. Working—it was working!

I bore down harder, digging into that feeling. With a twist of my wrists and a shoving step forward, the rest burst outward with a concussive BOOM!

I-I had done it! I’d cleared the tunnel!

My arms dropped to my sides like two overcooked noodles. I rocked back on my heels, almost falling until Noa rushed in to catch me and hold me upright. Neither he nor Traegan said a word at first. They stared back and forth between me and the freshly cleared pathway ahead.

“Are you kidding me?” Traegan crowed suddenly. “You couldn’t have done that sooner?! We just blew five hours moving rocks around like idiots!”

Before I could stop it, a laugh burst past my lips as I stared at him drowsily, my ears ringing and my vision spotting. “Wh-Who’s … not godlike … now?” I wheezed.

Traegan’s mouth hung open, one eye twitching like he might suddenly take a swing at me. Then, out of nowhere, he threw his head back and started laughing, too.

Noa just stared between us like we’d both lost our minds.

“That’ll show me, eh?” Traegan was still chuckling as he bent over to pick up our torch and start toward the empty passage ahead. He stopped in the entryway I’d just cleared and gave a little bow, motioning for the two of us to go on ahead of him. “Gods before beauty, and may the stones forever sing your praises. Remember this humble mortal when you ascend to your divine throne.”

Steadying myself against Noa, I tested the strength in my legs before I dared to take a step away. So far, so good. My ears still felt like they were stuffed full of cotton, and my knees felt a little wobbly, but I could manage it. The strangeness in my arms—claws and spines—had all disappeared. I was myself again.

And I could do this. I could get us out of here. I just had to keep trusting that power.

And more than that, I had to keep trusting myself.

* * *

The much larger tunnel beyond the cave-in was definitely not something made by accident. With engraved arches along the walls, glittering mosaics tiling the ceiling, a smoothly sculpted floor, and intricate scrollwork bordering the floor—there really was no doubt that this was a part of the rest of the temple complex. Every twenty-or-so yards, little alcoves held statues in jade, onyx, or alabaster that resembled figures of the gods. I could easily identify every one of them, and Traegan teased me about whether or not we should stop so I could properly greet my relatives.

I couldn’t decide if he was right or wrong about that. It was strange to think that I might have any relation whatsoever to them. Beyond strange, really. Absolutely bizarre.

No denying the evidence now, though.

“Look there!” Traegan called as he jogged forward a little, waving for us to catch up. “Mountains have mercy, tell me I’m not imagining that there’s a bit’o sunlight coming through that doorway!”

He wasn’t.

Straight ahead of us, the tunnel broadened again, ascending up a set of carved stone stairs where golden shafts of daylight poured down, creating a shimmering, misty effect thanks to all the dust in the air. A cool breeze blew through, stirring up more of that dirt and rustling through my hair. I could have fainted with relief as I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath of it, savoring the sweet aroma of jungle plants and moist soil.

We were so close. Sure, we had smelled something similar in the room with the big hole in the ceiling. But this was different. I just knew it.

Even Noa had started smiling as he limped along at the back of our group, steadily making his way with one arm on the wall to keep his balance.

Not much farther. We were going to make it. Once we were finally out of this wretched place, we could find Kaili and the others, get our wounds properly treated, and make it to Uru’Nai.

My feet crunched over a fine layer of dead, dried leaves and twigs that began to appear the higher we climbed on those steps. And, at last, I saw it. A wide, arched doorway flanked by two angelic statues with their wings spread high and their hands cupped together in front, like they were meant to be holding something. Incense, maybe? Or candles?

Whatever the case, I practically sprinted the last few steps and dashed out into the warmth of the midday sun, passing Traegan on my way up. The sunlight hit my face, warming my skin as I spread my arms wide and turned in a circle, staring up into the arms of the trees. Sweet freedom. Fates, I’d never go into another cave again.

Something deep in my soul, that tiny quiet place that had kindled all that power, thrummed and buzzed with a joy that brought tears to my eyes. It was more than just freedom for that part of me—the part that was Avgior. It was vindication. It was a second birth.

But that feeling … didn’t last.

29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TWAAANG!

A burst of cracking bowstrings snapped in the air as a chorus of shouts resounded around me.

Too late, I looked around at the moss-covered rubble and ruins where a small army of people moved. They pointed, shouted, and fired at me with crossbows. Arrows hummed through the air, whizzing past my head and body.

O-Oh no.

Run! We had to—

My body jolted forward as something hit me in the back. Pain exploded through my shoulder. I yelled, and immediately someone tackled me to the ground from behind, grabbing the back of my head and pinning me as more arrows zipped past.

“Stay down!” Traegan shouted over me, still pinning me down. “Curse it, it’s those blasted Hands again!”

What? Oh gods! Had they been lying in wait for us out here?

What about Noa? Where was he? He couldn’t run with his injured leg! What were we going to do? Where could we go to hide?

“Noa!” I tried calling for him.

No answer. Nothing but chaos as more voices shouted around us, seeming to come from all sides.

“You’re shot, but it’s just a flesh wound. You can still run, boy. On my go,” Traegan growled low, his body tense like a leopard about to spring. “Ready … NOW!”

We both scrambled up at the same time, stumbling and tripping before we sprinted headlong through the jungle undergrowth. Palm fronds and tree branches slapped against my face as I bolted, running right behind Traegan. My shoulder throbbed, but I didn’t dare to stop or look back.

Ahead, a half-toppled stone column covered in moss and vines might give us some cover. We could make it. Just a little farther!

Twenty yards.

Then ten.

I screamed in panic as something snagged around my legs, tying them together. I fell face-first, gasping and trying to breathe, as I rolled onto my side to see what had happened. A contraption, like a snare line made of thick wire and four metal balls, was wrapped so tightly around my ankles. I reached down, trying to untie it, but my shoulder howled with pain every time I tried to move.

“There you are,” a voice hissed over me suddenly.

I looked up, my whole body going cold with terror as I met the scarlet-eyed stare of another Hands of Fate agent. He leered at me over the edge of the scarf that covered his nose and mouth, eyes narrowing as he drew a long, curved dagger from his belt.

The air shattered with the sound of a familiar voice crying out in pain. Even from a distance, I knew it was Noa. His voice caught and shook as he cursed in Rienkan. Th-They … they were hurting him. Maybe even killing him. And he couldn’t even run or try to defend himself.

Rage took my mind like a molten, infernal storm. That soft seed of energy exploded with force that ripped a scream from my throat as I threw a hand up toward the agent in front of me.

Golden light burst from my palm, hitting him square in the chest, and blowing him backwards. He hit the side of a crumbling heap of stone with a crunch and hung there, suspended by my power. My whole body shook with rage as I snatched my feet apart, snapping the thick wire around my legs as though it were nothing but rotten thread.

“YOU!” My voice vibrated, echoing with a second tone that sounded like Avgior. I kept my hand outstretched, watching the agent’s body twitch and tremble until I snapped my fist closed.

CRUNCH!

The agent hit the ground with a thud and didn’t move again.

“Take him down! He must not escape!” A second agent howled as he charged me, swinging another set of those wire-and-ball snares over his head like he was about to throw it at me.

No. Not again.

BOOOM!

I thrust another hand toward him, sending out a second wave of power that knocked over trees, sent boulders rolling, and toppled a column that had been barely standing. Two Hands agents flew back, hitting the ground and rolling away.

I could feel it again, rising within me and spreading out through every corner of my body. Wave after molten wave of power. Spines pressed through my skin, growing from my forearms all the way to my elbows, as a sheen of pearlescent scales formed over my skin. My nails became curled black claws, and my teeth grew into dripping fangs.

VOOOM!

Something hit me again from behind. But this time, it wasn’t a friend trying to save my life. I fell to a knee, gritting my teeth against sweltering pain that singed over my back.

“You little wretch,” a feminine voice hissed. “Well, at least you’ve saved me the trouble of digging up that putrid corpse myself. That’s one less errand, and one step closer.”

Gritting my teeth, I forced my shaking legs to stand again and turned to face her—a woman I didn’t know. The woman stood, her gaunt form draped in robes of black and gold silk and her face smeared with designs painted in black oil. Her shock white hair resembled mine, but blew around her wildly as she pointed a bony finger at me and sneered. “You play with power beyond your understanding, boy. Now, you’ll learn heel, like the mutt you are!”

What? Who was this woman? And what did she want with me?

Her eyes glowed white with power as her lips curled back in a feral snarl. She made a gesture with her hand and a sparking, crackling ball of energy formed over her open palm.

Oh gods! She was a sorceress?!

O-Oh no. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do this! I-I didn’t know what I was doing! I barely understood what I was. How could I fight someone like her and ever hope to win?

Then, behind her I saw two Hands of Fate agents drag Traegan from the jungle. He hung limp in their grasp, his clothes stained with blood.

A new wave of raw fury split through my chest and I let out a thundering growl in response. As the sorceress gave a wrenching, twisting jerk of her wrist that sent the ball of crackling energy hurtling toward me like a comet.

I broadened my stance and stretched my arms out wide. I wouldn’t surrender. Not that easily. If she wanted to throw fire around … then two could play at that game.

I was not going down without a fight.

* * *

BOOOM!

Her big orb of crackling power met my wave of scorching heat, colliding between us with force that blew down more columns and ripped up trees by the roots. It left a scorched crater around us, breaching the dense jungle canopy so that sunlight poured down over us.

My hands shook. Something warm and wet ran from my nose and dribbled down my chin. My ears rang with a high-pitched, squeal. But I didn’t dare drop my guard. Not when I could still see her there through the clearing smoke.

Her smile was venom as she took another step toward me, curling her fingers again as her eyes flashed with eerie, milky light. “You dare to dream that you can match me, child? You know nothing of divine power. You will serve me with your blood—down to the very last drop!”

I stumbled. That feeling that still flared through my body, pulling and stretching me from the inside, began to hurt. I-I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. My knees shook and my lungs constricted. My spines and claws had begun to disappear, and I bit down hard, forcing myself to keep standing. I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t fail. Traegan and Noa needed me.

A sickly green bolt of power lashed out from her open hand. I tried to deflect it, shouting as I pressed outward with all my strength to resist it with my own power again.

It wasn’t enough.

That beam of wicked green energy hit me square in the chest. I flew backward, hitting the ground hard on my side. Something in my shoulder cracked. I cried out, digging my fingers into the dirt. Get up—I had to get up! I wouldn’t let it end this way!

A shadow fell over me, and I squinted up into the woman’s glowing golden eyes as her thin, sunken features pulled into a grimacing smile. She planted a foot squarely on my ribs, digging her heel in and pinning me there as she reached into her robes and drew out a black stone dagger with an ivory hilt.

I sucked in a frantic breath. I-I knew that blade with every fiber of my being. I had seen it before in a vision, yes. But the essence within me, Avgior, knew it, too. And it set terror like cold fire rushing through my veins.

Because that was the same blade that had killed him thousands of years ago.

“You know this weapon, yes? You remember it. I can see it in your eyes, wyrm,” she seethed gleefully. “Now, you’ll feel its bite again. After all, I only need your blood. The wild dogs can feast on the rest of you and your little friends.”

Shutting my eyes tightly, I held my breath. I waited for the end. For more pain. Gods, I wanted to apologize to Traegan and Noa. I wasn’t strong enough. I barely knew this power, and I couldn’t sustain it long enough to help them.

We would all die … because I was too weak.

Help me, I thought, begging with every shred of energy left in my brain. I can’t do this on my own. Please—someone help!

A faint noise rolled overhead like the distant roll of thunder. No, wait. Not thunder. Was that a roar?

I dared to open my eyes, just in time to see a massive shape zoom overhead above the trees. An instant later, a second zoomed past, eclipsing the sunlight. It wheeled into a sharp turn on broad, leathery wings, arcing gracefully through the air like a giant, armored eagle. It let out an ear-splitting roar that made the sorceress reel back and nearly drop that wicked knife.

“No … no, no, NOOO!” she screeched, her eyes wide and crazed. “I will not let you interfere! Not again!”

Whirling on me, she lunged for one of my arms and drew back that knife, slicing it across my forearm. I yelled, trying to wrench away as she squeezed my arm tighter. Shoving the knife back into her robes, she took out a vial from another pocket and held it against my wound, catching the flow of fresh blood before she let me go.

The sorceress cast me one last, scalding glare before turning to march furiously away. She only made it a few steps before something enormous dropped from the sky and landed before her with a BOOM!

G-Gods, it was … a dragon!

The massive blue-scaled monster prowled closer, the earth flinching under his clawed feet, as his snout wrinkled in a snarl. Vivid yellow eyes searched the rubble and finally landed on her. The dragon’s pupils narrowed, nostrils flaring, and spines bristling as it let out a rumbling growl. Burning venom dripped from its jagged teeth as its long tail lashed slowly from side to side.

“You miserable worm,” the sorceress spat. “You think I fear you?”

The dragon’s lips curled back in a snarl, its growl deepening as a booming voice filled my mind. “You will.”

Her eyes widened and she stumbled some, staggering back a step as the dragon rose up and gave another shattering cry. It drew in a mighty breath, plated chest heaving deeply. White-hot flame erupted from the dragon’s jaws, aimed right at her.

The sorceress paled in horror, frantically throwing up her hands at the last second. One gesture was all it took. She sent a ripple of darkness, like tongues of shadow, bursting from the ground at her feet. It engulfed her form an instant before the flames could touch her.

With a soundless wisp of darkness, she was gone without a trace.

Then the dragon’s massive, horned head swung around to stare straight at me.

Oh no.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even sit up. Lying on my side, every inch of me wracked with pain, all I could do was stare as the creature lumbered closer and gave a low, chattering sound in its throat. Then I heard it—that deep voice again, as the dragon’s vibrant yellow eyes studied me.

“You still live. Good. We heard your cry for help. We are few, but strong enough. Be still. My rider will come.”

His what? Wait a second, was I actually hearing that dragon speak?!

I choked as I tried to say something, to answer him. But nothing would come out. My throat had gone raw, and I shook with pain every time I took in a breath.

“Mavrik!” A new voice called out as a crunching, crashing sound came from somewhere out of my view. “There you are! What happened? I leave you for five seconds and you’ve burnt down half the jungle. We have to find—” The voice stopped, and footsteps crunched quickly over the ground, coming closer. “Gods and Fates!”

A man in polished silver battle armor and a long blue cloak appeared over me, dropping quickly to his knees and pulling off his helmet. With his sharply featured face framed in shoulder-length, silvery gray hair, his keen eyes darted over me as his mouth set into a tight, worried line. Something about him seemed familiar, although I couldn’t imagine why. I didn’t know anyone who rode on a dragon. But still … something about that scar over one of his eyes, and his slightly pointed ears struck a chord in my mind.

It felt like I should know him. But why?

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he said, speaking to me in the common language as he bent over to check my battered body like he was trying to decide which injuries were the most severe.

I didn’t care about my condition, though.

“M-My friends,” I rasped weakly. “P-Please help them.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” he said, his smile steady and calm as he reached down to loop his arms under my back and knees. He picked me up in one smooth motion, like I didn’t weigh anything at all.

The sudden motion made my head swim and my vision tunnel. My head lolled against his shoulder as he started carrying me toward that huge blue dragon.

“How many others are there?” he asked, his pale blue eyes fixing me with a determined stare.

“Two,” I groaned through my teeth. “P-Please. They’re … hurt, too. Traegan and … N-Noa.”

“We’ll find them,” he promised, and paused to look up as a another, smaller dragon with glossy black scales and a red stripe down its back swooped in for a low pass over us. The wind rushed off its powerful wings, and it let out a trumpeting call that the blue dragon answered with a growl. I could have sworn I saw someone sitting on that dragon’s back.

My mind spun. No. Not possible. It couldn’t be.

Dragonriders?

“We found another one!” A sing-song female voice called out. She had a thick accent that sort of reminded me of Traegan’s. “We’re still searching the thickets, but it looks like Isa’s also got a prisoner pinned. One of their ranks didn’t flee fast enough. He looks like a priest of some sort.”

Another one? Oh gods, was it Traegan or Noa? And a priest, too? I winced as I tried to sit up higher in the man’s arms so I could see. But my head swam dangerously, and I flopped uselessly against his shoulder again.

“Easy there. You’re going to be all right,” the man said as he carefully set me down right next to the blue dragon’s side. “Mavrik, keep watch in case they try to come for him again.”

The huge, scaly beast curled around me protectively, crouching low with its scaly ears slicked back and eyes wide and watchful.

“Wh-Who are you?” I had to know. I didn’t understand what was happening or who these people were. Were they someone I should trust? Or was I just trading one enemy for another?

“My name is Jaevid Broadfeather,” the man said as he stood back, his regal blue cape billowing in the breeze as he smiled down at me. “I am a Dragonrider of Maldobar, and we’ve come to rescue you.”

PART EIGHT

REIGH

30

CHAPTER THIRTY

A red sun, wrapped in smoky purple and orange clouds, rose early over the city of Esfolar. Battered, bruised, and filthy, we made our way through the streets that were already filled with hundreds of other people who were in similar shape. Refugees from the attack.

The haunting, desperate calls of families searching for one another in the crowds made my soul go numb. Groups mobbed around healers in white and blue robes, waiting for treatment. I could tell just at a glance that some of them wouldn’t survive the wait, and it took everything I had not to stop and try to help, too. I was supposed to. I was a healer, too. I should be helping.

But we had to keep moving. Time was running out.

“They didn’t stand a chance,” Thatcher seethed quietly as he walked beside me. “They had almost no warning. The garrisons didn’t even get an opportunity to fight back, let alone barricade the ports.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered with a drakkon swimming around, destroying everything in its path,” I muttered back. “Even with warships to defend the port, they didn’t stand any more of a chance than we did when we crossed one in that pirate ship. You can’t use cannons and harpoons against a monster like that.”

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then, I saw his jawline stiffen as he flashed me a sideways glare. “You could use dragons, though. Maylea injured it with Lukani as a shrike.”

Hmm. Yeah, he was probably right. Dragons were effective, and a battle-ready flight of them might stand a chance of bringing a monster like that down if they worked together. But this far away from Maldobarian soil? Yeah, not going to happen. The only dragon we had on hand was … well, literally about the size of my hand.

Vexi nibbled at my ear, gnawing and growling playfully as she tugged at my earlobe and wrapped her long tail around my neck. Maybe she was hungry and my ear looked tasty. I winced and squirmed as her tiny teeth pricked at my skin.

If Arlan was right about his spell, she wouldn’t be this size for much longer. He had shrunken her in the evening, and if this spell really was time-sensitive, that only gave us a few hours before she was big again. No one was more thrilled about that than I was. I’d have tiny bite-marks all over my neck and ears for weeks.

Following Violet, we tried avoiding the more crowded main streets where throngs of refugees were standing in lines for supplies and treatment. Many were scouring big wooden signboards that were papered in layers of hastily scrawled notes left by families still trying to find one another. The air hung thick with unsettled murmuring, as though everyone were on edge and just waiting for the next awful thing to happen.

My nerves were already pretty fried. As horrible as it was to think about, I was already used to this sort of situation. I had seen it play out during the Tibran war many times. The aftermath of battles, when the local citizens were left with the task of picking up the pieces of their shattered lives and trying to carry on, wasn’t for the faint of heart. Usually, there were some members of local government to help. Soldiers for the heavy lifting. Medical aid.

But here?

Well, I couldn’t see anything like that. I didn’t even know if Rienka had an army to speak of. They had declared their independence after the fall of the Tibran Empire, when Nar’Haleen was too weak and broken to do anything about it.

Now, Rienka would have to deal with their former ruling power if they wanted to keep that independence. And from where I was standing, it didn’t look like it was going well.

“Here,” Violet said suddenly, ushering us over to the front of a building with two stone pillars holding up a low awning at the front. With no windows, and a door made from an intricately woven blue and green tapestry, it didn’t look like a tavern or inn. At least, not like one I’d ever been to.

The fragrance of oils and minerals hung thick in the air as we all shuffled inside the dim front room. Behind a tall wooden counter, an elderly woman startled where she had been busily cutting towels into long strips. Making bandages?

“I do apologize, but we aren’t taking customers for the bath today,” the old woman said, visibly flustered as she looked over our group.

“We just need a place to rest and catch our breath for a little while,” Violet said. She motioned to Maylea, who took out our Zenith’s Call coin and quickly held it out for the old woman to see.

“O-Oh. Yes. Okay, then. There’s a room at the back you are welcome to use,” the woman stammered and nodded, seeming even more uncomfortable now. “I’m afraid we don’t have any of the usual commodities prepared, however. But the baths are always hot, and I will make sure no one disturbs you.”

“We appreciate it,” Violet murmured, and led the way deeper into the building.

I squinted through the dim light ebbing from wavered glass globes that hung from the ceiling. The hot, humid air filled the rooms with steam that curled from the surface of beautifully tiled soaking pools. Fountains gurgled and gently stirred the water, and pots and vases filled with bath oils and salts sat nearby. There were brushes and towels, robes for sitting in rooms filled with hot steam, and a nearly dark area with heated wooden floors. Pallets filled with what felt like rice were stacked against the wall—probably for dozing on that warm floor.

Any other time, I’d have spent all day at a place like this, and indulged in every creature comfort it had to offer. Maybe had a glass of wine and soaked in a bath, then taken a nap on that heated floor. But now … Fates, I just wanted to get the filth out of my hair and catch my breath.

I threw down my bag, which hit the floor with a soggy slap, and immediately started unlacing my boots. No one questioned as I stripped off my tunic and socks, and then started back for one of those baths. I’d be doing everyone a favor by not starting our desert excursion caked with pig flop.

Before I could get out of the room, Violet seized my arm and tugged me to a halt. “I’m going to see if I can connect with our caravan,” she whispered. “There is a chance that, given what’s happened, they are delayed or may change the meeting point. I’ll find them, and try to restock anything we have lost before we depart.”

I nodded, glancing past her where Maylea, Thatcher, and Lukani were already settling down into a circle on the heated floor. They all looked about as miserable as I felt. No one had walked away from this clean—mentally or physically.

“Watch your back out there,” I warned as Violet released my arm and started past me. “Caravan or not, we need to be out of the city before dusk. Vexi is due to not be so portable anymore. She’ll definitely draw attention, and that’s the last thing we need right now.”

Violet nodded, but didn’t look back as she continued out of the bathhouse.

I watched her go, silvery-blonde hair swishing in a braid that hung down to her waistline. I didn’t say anything—mostly because I knew she’d tease me for it—but I hated the idea of her going out alone. We should be staying together, now more than ever. It was dangerous out there. People were desperate and bound to be looking for someone to blame for what was happening. Her being Viperi obviously put her at a greater risk than the rest of us.

I was sure she already knew that. She would try to be careful. But I couldn’t shake the fear that it might not be enough. She might get backed into a corner and need help.

And I’d be too far away to do anything about it.

* * *

“If only I had a spare pair of socks,” I groaned and shot Thatcher a hard stare from across the room as I tried to wring my wet ones out before I put them back on. Ugh. Disgusting.

He just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter. Everything in your bag is drenched anyway.”

He had a point—but still.

“Almost everything,” I corrected as I did the same with my tunic. I’d rinsed everything and scrubbed it by hand as best I could while I was in the tub, but there wasn’t time to hang it to dry. Not much point in that, though. In a place this humid, nothing would ever get fully dry anyway. “My waterproof bag worked, as it turns out. The medical kits are still intact. Thank the gods for tiny miracles, I suppose.”

Thatcher didn’t say anything else as I went on getting redressed, trying to be as quiet about it as possible since Maylea and Lukani had curled up on the warm floor to sleep. Good thing, too. Who knew how long it would be before we found a quiet, safe place like this to rest again.

I’d almost finished lacing my vambraces when Maylea bolted upright with a sudden, frantic gasp. She stared around the room, her bleary eyes wide and her expression skewed with a mixture of panic and confusion, as though she weren’t sure where she was. I waited, holding still and not making a sound, until her gaze finally locked with mine.

She blinked once, hard, and then her mouth screwed up. Her eyes welled and her shoulders shook as her chin began to tremble. Oh no. Was everything that happened finally catching up to her?

“Hey, it’s alright.” I kept my voice soft and calm as I scooted over close to her and started to put an arm around her shoulders. “We’re safe here. It’s over. We—”

She flung her arms around my middle and buried her face in my chest. Her whole body trembled as she sobbed and gasped for breath. “Uncle Reigh! I-I … I think I saw Ronan!”

Huh? What was she talking about?

“What do you mean?” I asked as I put a hand on the back of her head. “You were asleep. It was probably just a dream.”

“N-No! No, it wasn’t! I was … I was in this strange castle. Or maybe a cave. It was so dark, and it didn’t have any windows. But there were books everywhere. I heard someone calling out for help. A boy. It sounded like he was in trouble. He was scared,” she sniffled against me, gripping fistfuls of my soggy tunic. “I-I tried to find him, but this barrier like foggy glass blocked the tunnel. I could see shadows like someone moving on the other side. But as soon as I reached out to touch it, it all disappeared. I could still hear him screaming.”

Thatcher and I swapped a wary glance. His mouth set into a hard, bitter line. I probably had a similar expression. We had both been knee-deep in this divine power crap long enough to know exactly what a dream like that felt like. Hell, to be precise. But this must have been Maylea’s first real taste of it.

“You’re sure it was Ronan?” I asked, still trying to keep my tone as gentle as possible as I rubbed her back and petted her hair. “Did you see his face?”

She hesitated, pulling back some and staring up at me with her cheeks flushed and eyes teary. “I-I … No. I didn’t. But it has to be him, right? Who else would be calling out for help from me like that?”

I didn’t want to answer that. I didn’t know, and any guess I made might lead her in the wrong direction. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, I pulled her into a tight hug and held her there. “Being connected to Paligno is going to mean you have visions like this sometimes. It’s like that for anyone who is god-touched. But they’re not always literal. Sometimes, they’re just like echoes. So don’t let yourself get worked up. Try to calm down and think through it,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to get Ronan back.”

“You promise?” she whimpered, still shaking some as she curled her legs in and relaxed into my arms like a tiny frightened child.

Because, all divine power aside, she still was.

The words stung at my heart and I closed my eyes as I let my chin rest on top of her head. “I promise,” I answered, knowing full well that it might be a lie.

31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Hours passed, and Maylea nodded off to sleep again sitting right beside me. I kept an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close so her head rested against my chest like a frightened child. It felt better to have her close, just in case she had another nightmare. Or vision. Sometimes, with divine dreams, it was hard to tell which was which.

My thoughts ran like wild dogs, snarling and snapping at my last few strands of sanity. That moment on the bridge, watching the massive drakkon rise out of the water like a colossal demon, replayed over and over in my mind. I wondered if Judan had stayed to fight, or if he and the rest of his scoundrel crew had fled. Had he been killed? And that Varren fellow—he must have still been on the island when the attack started, right? Unless he had another way to make a swift escape. What about those priests I’d found in the tower? Had they made it somewhere safe, too? There was no way to know any of that now.

After a while of trying to chase down those worries, sitting with the heated floor sending waves of soothing warmth up through my legs and rear, my eyelids began to grow heavy. I must’ve nodded off completely, because I flailed and nearly dropped Maylea when Violet returned and plopped a satchel on the floor nearby.

Ugggh. Gods. Sitting like that, with my head bent down, made every muscle in the back of my neck howl in protest. I was still reeling after getting dragged around by my throat. This wasn’t going to do me any favors in that department. Maybe I really was getting too old for this. I certainly didn’t bounce back as fast as I had when I was Maylea’s age.

“I’ve got something for us to eat, but we have to be quick. The caravan is nearly ready. We should eat, and then move to the edge of the city as fast as possible,” Violet whispered, her scarlet gaze halting on Maylea and me for an instant. I could have sworn I saw a quick, faint smile brush her lips before she turned her focus back to unpacking the food she’d brought.

It wasn’t much—just some flat bread with herbs and figs baked into it and some hard cheese—but a few mouthfuls made my stomach sing with relief. We ate everything in record time and gathered up our belongings. In less than ten minutes, we were all moving again.

The sun hung low in the sky as we trekked through the city. Even more refugees had arrived and filled the streets with carts, wagons, and groups that shambled slowly by with hollow expressions. Bigger crowds swarmed the healers and food lines. Children cried. Women wailed. Men argued.

And once again, my soul went numb.

I put a hand on Maylea’s shoulder, keeping her close at my side as we wound through the masses and made our way to the eastern edge of the city. She hadn’t said much else after waking up from that dream, and that foggy look of despair on her face put a pang of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. Maybe she had seen Ronan. Maybe he was calling for help.

Maybe we were already too late.

“Look there!” Lukani exclaimed, dashing a little ahead of us as we crested a small hill at the very edge of the city.

My steps slowed and finally stopped. I stood alongside Maylea and the others, mouth hanging open at the sight that spread out before us. The buildings of Esfolar grew sparse, giving way to rolling swells of bleached white sand that towered like frozen ocean waves. The sparkling dunes shone in the evening sun like heaps of diamond, stretching out as far as I could see to the base of craggy mountains miles in the distance.

“It’s salt, not sand,” Violet explained as she paused beside me, the setting sun making her red eyes gleam like fire-lit rubies. “They call it the Deadlands because nothing will grow.”

“Sounds inviting,” I smirked.

“Beyond it, the Dei’Lurn Mountains form a natural boundary between Damaria and Nar’Haleen. They are tall and treacherous to pass, filled with thieves and monsters alike. Not a place a caravan would want to venture unguarded,” she advised. “Hence our employment.”

“You had me at treacherous.” I tipped my head to the side in a shrug and winked—which I immediately regretted. Gah! My stupid neck …

With the desert wind teasing through a few runaway locks of her hair that had escaped her braid, Violet grinned and started onward again. “I know how much you dragonriders love fighting things, but do try to contain your excitement. We don’t want our temporary employers to assume we intend to go looking for trouble.”

“Us? Look for trouble? Never,” I gasped sarcastically, feigning an offended glare.

Beside me, Maylea finally cracked a little grin of her own. “That’s not what Dah says about you.”

“Your Dah is responsible for more than half of the near-death situations I’ve been in, thank you very much,” I scolded and flicked her ear before I started after Violet. “And Thatcher’s responsible for the rest.”

“Hey! That’s not true,” he protested as he jogged to catch up.

I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at him. “Do I really need to remind you that the whole reason we’re here right now is because some crazy goddess tried to kill you a few years ago?”

Thatcher balked angrily, “That has nothing to do with—”

“There they are,” Violet interrupted, not seeming interested in our squabbling. She motioned ahead to where a group of large, strangely made wagons sat on big, wide wheels just beyond the last cluster of buildings at the edge of the city.

I’d never seen anything like these wagons before, with their colorful sails on masts that spread out from the sides and center like fins on a fish, and a set of wide, curved beams under the center like runners on a sled. The tops were covered in more colorful tapestries, offering shade from the sun and shelter from the wind.

Each one was hitched to a team of beasts that looked something like a cross between a bison and lizard. Their gray, leathery hides were studded with short horns, and their thick, muscular bodies had short legs with wide feet. Bizarre.

I couldn’t help but stare as we made our way up to meet the rest of the caravan, all clustered together like we were a herd of nervous goats. That probably didn’t instill much confidence in our new traveling companions, who eyed us through head-wraps and face-shawls like we were a burden none of them wanted to bear.

The leader of the caravan, a middle-aged Lunostri elf dressed in loose green robes, came out to meet us with a tall, wooden staff in his hand. His yellow-green eyes examined each of us thoroughly, then settled on the tiny dragoness still perched on my shoulder like a curious squirrel.

“We were promised a dragon, not this,” he spat bitterly, motioning to Vexi. “Is this the Mistress’s idea of a joke?”

No one was laughing.

“Her condition is temporary,” Violet assured in fluent Sokraal, “And it was necessary to move through the city without raising any alarm or attracting any unwanted attention.”

The man regarded her with his lip curled like he’d just found a dead mouse in his shoe. “I did not ask you, Pitathi,” he spat. Then he looked squarely at me and tilted his chin upward in a challenging gesture. “If there is no dragon, then there is no deal.”

Oh boy. We were going to be best buddies, I could tell already.

Crossing my arms, I leveled a steely glare back at him. “Last I checked, you needed our help a lot more than we need yours. You’re about to go rattling into hostile territory with those wagons packed full of soft-handed nobles who are ditching their own people to flee to safety. I doubt any of them even know which end to grip a sword by,” I fumed back in Sokraal, as well. “I, on the other hand, am pretty sure I can figure out how to fly to the east on my own. So why don’t you try that again—and use her name this time. It’s Violet, by the way.”

The man blinked like I’d just slapped him across the face. Then his brow furrowed deeply and his lips pulled into a snarl, mouth opening like he was ready to tell me to take my crew and march right off the nearest cliff.

He didn’t get the chance, though.

Vexi made a strange, throaty chittering sound on my shoulder—which was my only warning.

And it was all I needed.

“GET BACK!” I yelled as I grabbed Vexi’s tiny body off my shoulder and dropped her on the ground. I barely got a chance to hook my arms around Maylea and Violet, dragging them along with me, as I threw myself out of the way just as a burst of light flashed in the air.

With a trumpeting roar, Vexi unfurled before us and spread her powerful wings to the sky, landing in the gritty sand on her muscular hind legs back at her regular size. Now a monster of considerable size, she loomed over the caravan leader and hissed. Her long, whip-like tail swished, and her fangs flashed as she slicked her ears back and let out a low, challenging growl.

I had to give the guy some credit—even with a huge, angry dragoness leering down at him like she might suddenly snap his whole head off in one bite, he didn’t scream. Or cry. Or wet himself.

He did spit a stream of curses and stagger back, though, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. Priceless.

The presence of my now large dragon made the beasts tethered to the wagons bellow in alarm and shift. Workers rushed around, trying to calm them, while the people inside the wagons peered out with mixed expressions of shock and awe.

Dusting myself off, I strolled casually over and put a hand on Vexi’s strong neck. “Big enough for you?” I asked, chuckling under my breath.

The caravan leader cursed again, and had to straighten the wrap around his head before he could manage a flustered, bitter, “It will do, I suppose. Just make sure it remembers which side it is meant to be on.”

“Oh, trust me. I will,” I assured him, letting my tone carry a promising edge as he stormed off back toward the wagons.

“Nice guy,” Thatcher laughed as he came stumbling across the sand, shaking the grit from his hair and dusting it off his clothes.

“Right? I think this is the start of another beautiful friendship,” I snickered, and reached up to give my dragoness a good scratch under her chin.

A deep, satisfied purr rumbled in Vexi’s throat as she rubbed her bony brow along my palm, almost bowling me over backward. She was still my queen, no matter what size she came in.

“Well, then, if you don’t mind, we should find a place to put our belongings and discuss shifts for keeping watch,” Violet insisted, her tone a little stiff as she marched off toward the caravan. I could have sworn her cheeks were flushed.

Hmm. What was that about? Surely it wasn’t because of anything I’d done or said, right? Isandri had explained to me countless times that when it came to dealing with her people—the Lunostri—you couldn’t back down. You couldn’t show any signs of weakness or uncertainty. Basically, you couldn’t back down for the sake of politeness. Lunostri elves viewed that as being weak, indecisive, and unreliable—none of which this guy probably wanted from his potential guards during a life-threatening journey.

Surely Violet knew that, too, right?

* * *

Just as the sun finally began to sink behind us, our caravan rolled out toward the eastern Dei’Lurn Mountains. The gritty earth crunched under the rolling wheels, and the wind whipped wild and unchecked over the barren landscape. Thatcher and I took first watch, letting Violet and the others load into the very last wagon. The kids needed rest. Violet, too. Unlike us, she hadn’t gotten any downtime in that bathhouse. Maylea still looked pale after that dream, and Lukani was determined to stick right at her side. Best to let them take advantage of a safe place to rest while we had it.

But that didn’t mean I had any intention of walking along the sides of the caravan like the rest of the hired guards.

I didn’t have a saddle, but I didn’t care. I used a borrowed rope to make myself an emergency line around Vexi’s neck, climbed up onto her powerful shoulders, and gave her strong neck a pat. She chittered and chirped with delight, snapping her jaws as her nostrils puffed in deep breaths of the desert wind. After two grueling weeks, my heartbeat raced with a rush of primal adrenaline as she kicked off the ground and surged skyward.

We soared higher, catching the rising updrafts and veering around the caravan that was nothing more than a speck down below. I let my eyes roll closed, feeling every swell of my dragon’s scaly sides as she breathed, and every flex of her shoulders as she beat her wings. Her spine rippled with the motion of flight, flowing like a wave. Her wingbeats thumped deeply with every flap. Her warm, smooth scales were like worn leather under my hands.

This feeling—with the wind in my hair and her strength to carry us on—Gods and Fates, I had missed it. My spirit had ached for it. All the dull, throbbing pain in my body seemed to fade away. I was free again.

And now, with nothing before us but open sky, golden dunes, and the first brush of twilight on the horizon, I finally felt it. That rush of certainty, of purpose, flooding back into my soul and setting it ablaze. Hope.

We would make it. We would reach the library in Nar’Haleen, even if it took every bit of strength we had. We would find Ronan and set him free. We would stop Sadeera, whatever the cost, and make sure she never tried anything like this ever again. She was an enemy unlike any other we’d crossed. I knew that. Facing her would undoubtedly be the most dangerous thing I had ever done—but I felt no fear.

Because despite all that, I was Dragonriders of Maldobar, first and always.

And no matter the odds, we did not fail.

The End … For Now

Continue the series with Eternal, Book 8 in the Dragonrider Heritage

THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES IN

ETERNAL

ALSO BY NICOLE CONWAY

FLEDGLING

The epic journey all began with the international bestselling triumph, FLEDGLING! Join Jaevid and his friends as they embark on their adventure, survive their training at Blybrig Academy, and discover the secrets of a world bound in dangerous secrets …

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my dear author friends who continue to share this journey and passion for storytelling with me after so many years, thank you so much for your words of wisdom, stress-relieving anecdotes, and many wonderful memories!

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To the awesome editing team at Flyby Editing services for all their continued hard work—even when I toss out a faster-than-usual deadline that has us all in a frenzy! You rock!

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To my family, and especially my husband, for counting to be so supportive of this career and empathetic to all that it means to me.

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To my mentor, Rebecca, for guiding me down new and amazing paths to make these stories the very best they can be!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nicole Conway is a graduate of Auburn University with a lifelong passion for writing teen and children's literature. With over 100,000 books sold in her DRAGONRIDER CHRONICLES series, Nicole has been ranked one of Amazon's Top 100 Teen Authors. A coffee and Netflix addict, she also enjoys spending time with her family, rock climbing, and traveling.

Nicole is represented by Frances Black of Literary Counsel.

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