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The battle spun, and Dom spun with it. Moving, breathing, still alive,his heart pounding louder than the screams of the dying, and the roars of the dragons.

In another life, Dom lived quietly in Iona. He hunted, he trained, he spent most days with his cousin and Cortael. The trio wandered as they willed, climbing the mountains, walking the coasts. Until Isibel called them back with a sending, her voice as grave as her face.

A Spindleblade has been stolen.

They returned to find the Cor vault undisturbed, but for a missing sword. A blade that could rip the world apart.

There was no way for Taristan and Ronin to enter the city unnoticed. Even they could not slip past Vederan guards, in Iona or in the castle.

They did not come through the city, Dom realized, raising his eyes to the ridge behind them. Iona crawled up its length, a hulk of granite beneath the darkening scarlet sky. At its peak, Tíarma sat, watching over all, her towers tall against the clouds.

And her vaults deep. Endless. Spiraling down into the rock, so deep not even Dom knew where they ended. If they ended at all.

Or if they led out to open air, a terrible weakness overlooked for centuries.

Despite the battle, Dom felt himself turn.

But someone grabbed at his shoulder, her grip too strong to break.

“Let me go,” Dom growled, fighting against the Monarch of Iona herself.

Isibel stood next to him, holding him back, her helmet gone, her curtain of silver hair hanging free.

“Are you running, Domacridhan?” she hissed, something like shock in her gray eyes. “Have you lost sight already?”

“No,” he answered, shoving against her. “I see clearly. Taristan isn’t here, neither is the wizard. This is a diversion—this isalla diversion.”

Her shock bled to horror, her grip on Dom’s shoulder releasing as she took in his words.

In a flash, he jumped to his feet. Isibel rose with him, her own gaze looking back to the castle frowning over all.

“Diversion,” she murmured, as if dazed. The ancient sword still hung in her grasp, its edge painted scarlet. “We must go.”

It was all the opening Dom needed. With a word to a lieutenant, he turned from the front lines, letting the Vederan move to plug the hole he left behind. There was no time to wonder if his absence would strike fear into the army. If Corayne died, they were all doomed anyway.

His body exploded beneath him, running at full speed despite his suit of armor.

Overhead, the dragons continued to battle, blue flame and red pouring back and forth. No side seemed to be winning, until the pair hurtled to the ground together, limbs and claws locked, their wings tangled and torn.

Dom threw himself sideways in time to dodge the hurtling dragons, their bodies giving off waves of hot and cold. They hit the ground like falling stars, sending up a plume of destroyed earth. They writhed through the haze, both unharmed, still tearing at each other, even as Dom struggled to his feet. Soldiers of either side gave the dragons a wide berth, mortal and immortal alike.

He barely ducked in time when a hiss of steel passed through the air, moving through the space where his head was a moment ago.

Dom blinked up incredulously to see a rider blaze past, menacing and tall in the saddle, his familiar form like a shadow turned to steel.

The black knight, Dom thought, remembering Gidastern, remembering the way the cursed warrior destroyed everything in his path. Charlie gave him a name.Morvan the Dragonsbane. Another monster of Irridas, bound to hunt dragons until the ending of the realms.

One way or another, his time will soon be at an end, Dom thought, even as his vision spun.

Morvan.The name sounded wrong, twisted, even in his own head.

He remembered Ridha, her green armor, her sword swinging, her black hair undone. She was fierce and beautiful, and broken beneath the black knight’s hand. Left to die.

No, Dom thought, flinching.Worse.

The knight wheeled on his horse, his own sword raised. Though his face was obscured by the panes of his helmet, Dom still felt his stare like a spear. Morvan looked straight through him, to the dragons scrabbling at each other. Heat broke against Dom’s back, then icy cold, as the monsters bellowed back and forth.

Even Morvan’s horse did not seem to care about the landscape, trampling soldiers beneath its hooves. He moved with his master, careening in a circle to charge.