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“We’ll deal with that if and when the dragon shows up…and hope that the fish do not.”

He reached out and flicked one of the crystals hanging from the crown she wore. “So sparkly. What did you do to get theses?”

“Nothing.”

She tucked the bone away in her pocket. The two of them climbed the grille until they were as high up and as secure as they could be, and, when the water stopped rising, Wren began to sing.

Instead of a sorrowful, calming tune, this time Wren sang a fighting song. Bright and vibrant and daring, to encourage the dragon to show up. But, after fifteen minutes, there was no sign of the water stirring, and she felt her heart sink.

You have to show up.

The dragon was her last chance. She’d burned a bridge tonight.

Wren sang louder and more fervently with every passing second. Her lips hurt from humming, and her hands grew slick with sweat, despite the bitter cold. Wren knew, in her heart, that if she could not get the dragon to appear tonight, then that would be it for her.

She would be doomed.

When she was mere moments from giving up, a set of spines finally broke the surface of the water, and she let out a sigh of relief.

Opposite her, the boy looked down at the dragon with wide eyes. “I’m not going to like this next bit, am I?”

Wren grunted and tried to calm down. Whether it was because she was no longer responsible for just her own life but for his, too, Wren herself no longer felt scared or uncertain. Slowly, she climbed down the bars and into the water, closing the distance between herself and the dragon with careful, calculated steps. Her dress pulled on her frame as the fabric soaked up water.

The creature growled as she approached. But still, Wren was not scared. She dropped to her knees with a splash and held out the lamb as an offering, holding her hands a mere inch from the dragon’s dark yet luminous snout.

“Go on and take it,” she murmured. “It’s a gift for you.”

Air stuttered from her lungs as the warmth of its breath wafted over her hands as it finally took the meat gently from her hands.

“Get ready,” she told the boy—just as the door to the prison opened up.

“Wren?”

Arrik’s surprised voice washed over her as she stared down the dragon.

No.

“Get back,” he commanded. “It’s dangerous.”

She ignored the prince and her heart raced in her chest. This was it. Wren continued her song, and when it was clear the creature would not attack her, she launched herself onto its back. The prince yelled as water lapped over her legs as she straddled the dragon. She exhaled slowly and silently rejoiced. The dragon had not attacked her nor rejected her. Instead, it now lowered the spines on its back so that she could position herself more safely.

“Don’t you dare,” the prince said lowly.

Wren finally lifted her gaze to her husband. His chest lifted up and down with his breaths as he gazed at her. His normally stoic face was pinched in anger and worry. Arrik waded farther into the water and held his hand out to her.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he gritted out.

The dragon slid forward to the next cell and her traitorous heart clenched at the heartbreak on the prince’s face.

“Get on,” she demanded of the boy, knowing they had mere seconds before the prince came to his senses and attacked.

“Are you crazy?!” the boy cried; mouth wide open at the sight of Wren atop the glowing, dangerous dragon.

“Between you and I, I am not the one who is mad.”

The prince cursed and launched himself through her cell door to get to the boy’s.

“Get on. Now!”