Page 57

Right then, a barrage of arrows blows past us like a swarm of locusts.

“Left!” I scream, slamming my weight into his wing so his body tilts left. “Higher!”

Another wave of arrows clips the underside of the clouds. Hokzuh veers upward until we’re so high that frost rimes my nose and the palace looks like a toy, small enough for me to pinch between my fingers.

I don’t know the extent of Angma’s magic, but the darkening sky and gathering winds cannot be a coincidence. We’re dragged back down through the clouds, caught in an invisible net.

Below, the murky outline of a ship penetrates the mist. Suddenly the ship glows, and its purple sails are illuminated by an orange halo. It’s cannon fire.

The blasts come fast and relentless. Hokzuh swerves. He strains to fly us higher, beyond the cannons’ trajectory. But the wind is too strong. We jolt across the sky, jagging across the clouds—until our luck runs out.

A cannon blast scrapes the edge of Hokzuh’s left wing. Smoke explodes everywhere, and I inhale pure sulfur. I can’t breathe. Can’t see. All I can hear is the pain in Hokzuh’s roar.

He keeps flying. His wing crackles, bits of rubbery flesh singed off.

My mind is racing. He can’t outfly the ship like this, and when he tires—when he slows down—Angma will take us. She’ll tail us until we reach Tai’yanan, if she has to. The only way we’ll lose her is by destroying her ship.

“Fly us closer.”

It’s a ridiculous idea, and the dragon rightfully ignores it, which forces me to act. Reaching over his shoulder, I strain to fold his wings closed.

“What are you—”

“Shut up.” I knee him in the ribs and keep his wings pinned together.

As we plunge for the sea, Hokzuh begins to understand my plan.

“Closer,” I repeat, loosening my grip on his wings. “Above the sails.”

“You’re going to get us killed.”

I pretend not to hear and carefully wrap Ukar around Hokzuh’s shoulders. “I’m going to jump. Take care of Ukar.”

Before Hokzuh can object, I grip the batten and pull myself up into the purple sails. The wind blusters, the fabric sags under my weight—

And I fall.

I fumble at the sails, trying to grip one of the beams that cuts across the mast. At the last moment, I kick against roiling fabric, and my legs clench together to seize it still.

I catch my breath, but unfortunately I’ve been spotted.

“Get her!”

Arrows tear after me, puncturing the sails, as I drop down onto the deck. In my periphery, Hokzuh circles back, diverting the archers’ attention so I can dash across the ship. My target is the brass lanterns hanging from the forecastle. They’ll do nicely for what I have in mind.

Fog thickens the air, and I can barely see Hokzuh’s wings. But men are shrieking in every direction, bodies splash into the sea, and swords clatter against the deck. A useful ally, this dragon.

I’m almost at the lantern when two female soldiers slip out of the fog. I’ve encountered their cloudy eyes and bony shoulders before: Queen Ishirya’s bodyguards.

“Where is Angma?” I demand.

In unison, they blow a shimmery mist from their lips. It dusts my eyelids, soft as a veil. Everything slows; time is suspended.

Maybe if I didn’t bear Angma’s mark, I would be fooled. But I can see the threads of magic that stitch together her net, and I will not be ensnared.

I claw at my face, fighting off the mist. I shake free of it, lunging for the lanterns.

Before I can unhook one, a bodyguard seizes my arm. Her grip is strong enough to crush my bones, and as I try to twist away, the mist embraces her.