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He looked up, wide grey eyes the only answer I needed.

Everything fell into place in the blink of an eye. If Edored had come here, sweaty and annoyed, and found these traces waiting for him … Hell, of course he’d run off like a toddler in search of kittens. Who cared about plague magic and demon shields when there were dragons to be found? Dragons who must have been around recently, judging by the perfect clarity of the traces they’d left behind …

The forest was bone-chillingly silent. I looked up and found both Creon and Tared with hands on their weapons, their eyes scanning the mist and the endless rows of pillar-like trees with the quiet watchfulness of hunters.

If this was a dragon, it had to be a giant one – mutated in size by divine magic, and who knew what that might have done to its hunting instincts? The wise decision was to get the hell out of this place and be grateful it hadn't attacked the temple yet. Only a fool would willingly go look for that sort of danger; the two males on either side of me might be powerful warriors, but they were hardly experienced dragon hunters.

And then again … divine magic.

‘Is there any chance it’s connected to Zera?’ I breathed. ‘That we could find her through these traces?’

‘If we could,’ Tared said tersely, ‘I’m not going to run after it right now. I suggest we return to the temple and make a plan first.’

A plan?Creon signed, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him.You?

What for the gods’ sakes did he think he was doing? It took all I had to keep my voice from cracking as I started, ‘Could you not—’

‘What’s your point, Hytherion?’ Tared snapped, stepping past me. ‘If you’re trying to call me a fool, at least don’t be a coward about it for once in your life.’

‘Tared!’ I hissed.

Not a fool. Creon’s gestures were slow, savouring every motion. The way he held Tared’s gaze was a loud and clear challenge, mingled with that princely arrogance that could have inflamed a sheet of ice.Just a little … senseless?

Tared drew his sword.

And then everything went so fast I had no time to think, no time to understand what for the bloody gods’ sakes was happening. Even my warning cry came too late. A flash of steel sliced through the quiet dusk, a slap of wings, the merciless shriek of blade against blade. Creon retaliated while Tared’s sword was still bouncing back, lashing out like a viper, the silvery flash of his knife like fluid quicksilver to my dumbfounded eyes.

Tared faded away just in time. A single lock of blond hair, fluttering down where he’d stood, was the only evidence of how close Creon’s dagger had been.

Creon whirled around, some warrior’s instinct warning him of the sword that was about to appear out of nowhere and take a swing at his neck. A bright burst of crimson blazed from his fingers the moment Tared reappeared, magic shrouding the clearing in a glow of destruction, and blood splattered across the mud.

Blood.

Every muscle in my body was obeying a different reflex – fight, flight, protect. My left hand grabbed for the dark linen of my dress. My right hand wouldn’t come up to use the colour. The magic lay paralysed below my skin, my thoughts running five heartbeats behind – I had to stop them, but I’d hurt them, but they’d hurt each other, but they’d hurt me, but what washappening, but—

One infinite heartbeat of mayhem, and Tared staggered back, teeth bared, eyes wild with some primal fury I’d never seen on his face before. Red wetness glistened on the edge of his blade – blood, my mind helpfully informed my eyes, the thought as surreal as a fever dream. A long cut ran over his right upper arm, blood spilling from that wound, too. Creon …

He’d gone perfectly, icily still, black gathering under his fingertips. Wings flaring. Muscles straining. A dark god of death – a brutal, devastating force of nature, as pliable as the advance of night itself.

His eyes were bottomless, fixed on Tared’s face with the ferocity of a trapped animal facing its hunter.

‘Stop.’ I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. My voice was a squeaky, shivery mess, barely rising over the ominous rustling of the foliage. ‘Please.’

Neither of them seemed to hear me. Creon prowled closer, every meticulous movement shimmering with the potential of agony. Tared’s fingers tightened around his sword hilt. A reflex I knew all too well – the only kind of warning he gave.

‘It’s as I thought, then.’ Even now there was a furious triumph to his words, low and cautious as he spoke them. He didn’t back away. Didn’t avert his eyes from the searing intensity of Creon’s gaze. ‘Never mind about the pretty lies and the pretty promises. Scratch off the mask and you’re still the same—'

‘Tared,’ I got out.

‘—gods-damned—’

‘Tared!’

His tight lips faltered one last moment, whether it was because of my shrill cry or the realisation of the madness he was about to commit. But the words came out with calm, unwavering certainty, the voice of a male who has already decided he’s beyond saving.

‘Demon brood.’

Creon lunged.