Page 44

Of course there were sharks.

I could barely see them—couldn’t even see my own arms flailing against the waves—but I could feel the vibrations they made, tiny currents pulsing against my skin in sharp zings.

Even dosed with sangi, trying to outswim a school of sharks was a fool’s errand.

Ironically, the darkness helped.

I wasn’t keen on knowing how many sharks pursued me, or how close they were to gnashing my flesh into bloody ribbons.

As fast as I could, I kicked toward the stripe of sunlight glittering at the surface.

The light seeping into the bay was faint, fading, as the sun sank lower.

The sharks circled closer.

Light fanned over their mirrored eyes and white mouths, and my stomach churned with fear.

They looked very hungry.

“Help!” I cried.

“Someone, help!”

In the terror of the ensuing silence, the sharks charged.

Their maws were wide and gaping, coming toward me.

I could count three rows of pointed teeth and glimpse the fleshy tunnel of a gullet.

Punching would do me no good, but still I curled my fists, ready to fight to the end.

Suddenly there came a cold and slippery lash against my ankle.

With a yank, my world went spinning.

Next I knew, I landed on a hard tortoise shell.

“You have a harrowing sense of timing, General,” I rasped, catching my breath.

“It could not be helped, Lady Saigas,” Caisan replied, wrapping his kelp whip back around his spear.

“Your Scroll appears to attract all manner of ruffians.”

The Scroll of Oblivion was tied in a careful knot around his neck.

I took it from him, took one of the small knives strapped to his back too.

I wasn’t going back to Nazayun without something sharp.

“Now hold on.”

He rocketed upward, nearly to the surface, when a sudden quake rattled the seas.

The force of it pushed Caisan’s head back into his shell.

He twisted to protect me from the brunt of the waves.

The sharks took advantage.

They came rushing from all sides, intent on murder.

Caisan shouted, “Jump, Lady Saigas!”

I let go of his back.

It was as though I’d been pulled into a rip tide.

I flew back, caught in the waves dragging me down.

The harder I kicked, the faster I sank.

Down, down, away from the light.

I thought it was a shark at first, that vibration in the water.

But it was warm, and familiar.

A faint yellow glow lit the water, and a dragon’s arms locked around my waist, gliding me out of the current.

He had claws, curled with pointed tips, but they were tender with me and took care not to pierce my skin.

I leaned against his chest and slid my fingers across cool, pebbled skin, making out the shapes of teardrops.

“Elang,” I whispered, twisting to face him.

“You’re alive!”

His yellow eye burned.

New shadows traced his cheeks.

Whatever battles he’d fought in Yonsar had weathered him, but gods, he looked pleased to see me.

With no greeting at all, he swept me into an embrace and kissed me.

His lips took in my own, gentle yet demanding, as if I were air and he hadn’t breathed in days.

I felt the same.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, observing, with a secret thrill, that his eyes became brighter, his scales warmed to my touch.

When I leaned my head against his shoulder, I could hear his heart, racing as mine was.

“Foolish, foolish girl,” he murmured, his lips still on mine.

“I told you not to come back.”

“And miss out on the three chests of jewels?” I said.

“You fiend, my mother would never have it. Besides”—I inhaled—“I have a curse to break.”

Elang drew back, his voice thickening.

“Tru, if I don’t get a chance to tell you later—”

“Hush.” I pressed my finger to his lips.

“You can’t talk like that. I forbid it.”

Though he gave a nod, I could see how his face closed.

He was thinking about his curse, and for the first time, I understood why that would trouble him, why the set of his mouth would go suddenly tense.

I brought his chin up level to mine.

Playfully, I covered his yellow eye with my hand and held a lock of his white hair up to his chin.

“What are you doing?”

I tilted my head, pretending to study him.

“Seeing how much you look like Gaari.”

“That old man?” Elang pretended to look offended.

“And, do I?”

“White hair,” I started, “thick neck, inflated sense of self…” I laughed as he made a face.

“Not at all,” I admitted.

“Except for here.” I thumbed the scales beneath his gray eye.

“They always say a dragon’s spirit is in their eyes.”

The corners of Elang’s mouth played into a smile.

Under the glow of his yellow eye, his horns grew long, and a sinuous tail swelled beneath his robes.

He held me tight, and we surged upward for the surface.

It was the final hour of the dragon.