Page 95

And not from the palace.

Without thought, Sorasa spun on her heel, facing down the Grand Canal toward the entrance to the harbor. To another port, grander than Wayfarer’s in every way.

Fleethaven.

Her eyes widened as she drank in the impossible sight. What was once the heart of Erida’s navy, a circular port built to house war galleys like horses in a stable, bloomed into an inferno. Storehouses and dockscaught light, barrels and crates bursting open. Masts stood black against red flames, sails billowing in the gushing torrent of hot air. One by one, the masts crumbled, the galleys consumed beneath them, splintering into the water.

Sorasa’s gaze jumped to the sky, searching the smoke for any hint of the dragon. A bat-like wing, a jeweled limb, a pair of jaws stretched perilously wide.

But the clouds were empty.

Her mind whirred, the air going hot against her face, the burning fleet like another sun on the horizon. The walls of the city seemed to close around her throat, threatening to choke the life out of her. She elbowed her way across the crowded bridge, through dazed folk staring at the glowing flames.

“Have you somehow lit a match to burn down the entire city?” Dom hissed in her ear, his legs moving alongside her own.

Sorasa gnashed her teeth. “That wasn’t me.”

His voice dropped. “Sigil?”

“She wouldn’t dare risk her kin.”

“Then who?”

Sorasa’s thoughts tangled again, sifting through too many possibilities.Accident, sabotage, a single disgruntled captain finally at his wit’s end.She looked back over her shoulder, straining to see through the crowd of the port even as she moved.

The light of the flames undulated against billowing smoke, rising in a black column to join the already low clouds. Other buildings obscured much of Fleethaven, but Sorasa glimpsed enough. Galleys fought their way out of the cothon, fleeing their docks, only to meet a blockade of their own ships, the great hulks burning as they sank into the water. Whatever had set Fleethaven ablaze did so perfectly, trapping war galleysand sailors alike. Only little boats managed to slip through, skiffs and even rowboats manned by whatever sailor was lucky enough to grab an oar. Sorasa could see them splashing through the water, like insects on the surface of a burning pond.

“We need to get on a ship, any ship,” she bit out, turning forward again. “It won’t be long until the Queen calls the city to arms, and closes the port entirely.”

Until we are trapped.

To her relief, Dom did not argue.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched, not the burning fleet, but the towers at the end of the canal. The Lion’s Teeth. They stood like two sentinels, guarding the only way to the sea, the only escape for so many ships still at harbor.

They reached the docks of Wayfarer’s Port under the cover of a teeming crowd, half of them slack-jawed at the sight of Fleethaven on fire. Guard patrols roved but they ran for the flaming navy yard.

Sorasa felt herself uncoil a little. Fleethaven was a better distraction than she could have ever asked for.

Opportunity, she thought, the delicious hint of it singing in her blood.

But why?the rest of her wondered.Who?

More horns went up over the city, like trumpets in a forest calling out the hunt. A chill went down Sorasa’s spine. The horns summoned the city garrison, calling out to the watchtowers and guard posts all over the city. All the soldiers in Ascal would rouse to Erida’s command, to flood the city and everything within its walls.

Wayfarer’s Port was not the palace grounds or Princesiden. This district was far less organized and upstanding, as befitting the port of a major city. Sorasa glimpsed all manner of dangerous folk as they moved,avoiding brawlers in the alleys and cutthroats in the gutters. Thieves prowled alongside errand runners and swaying sailors.

She feared none of them.

But she feared the towers. Again, she glanced at the Lion’s Teeth, dreading what she might see at the mouth of the canal. At any moment, she expected another horn blast, or even the murderous shriek of chain.

“Sorasa.”

Dom’s breath was cool at her ear. Sorasa froze to keep from jumping in her skin.

Before she could snarl a response, Dom pointed ahead, along the crowded docks jammed with ships of all sizes, and crews of all colors. She squinted, her mortal eyes fighting against the shifting shadows and general chaos. First, she searched the many faces for Sigil, hope leaping in her chest.

But it was not Sigil he found.