Page 38

37

DISAPPOINTING MONSTERS

W hen I came to, I was tied to a chair sitting in a familiar row with the rest of my friends—those who had survived the day, that was. Clearly, Ciro didn’t want me to miss a moment of his bloody production, but thankfully, he no longer enjoyed my company.

The back corner of my head throbbed where I’d been hit. I might have been struck by the hilt of a sword because it felt like it was still embedded in my skull. After a bit of blinking, my vision cleared. I was dizzy but the world slowly settled back into place.

Lears and Poole sat to my far left, Griffon and Lennon beside me. On my right sat a hornless version of Sweetie with unexpected curly hair. On his far side sat Minkin, then a still-stunned Bain. Tearloch and Nogel were missing.

A red-eyed Lennon put her arm around me and pointed to the arena floor. Tearloch gathered weapons while a terrified dragon rider stood quaking nearby. “Be tough,” she said. “For him, you can be tough, can’t you?”

“Tough?”

“You bet. There will be plenty of time to fall apart later. For now, you suck it up…for Tearloch.”

The man I loved only spared me a glance. He smiled when he saw I was alert and all right, then turned his attention to Nogel. “You will have to do it yourself,” he explained as he pressed the hilt of a sword into the young man’s hand. “He said he will no longer accept anyone falling on their sword. So, if you want to live to see another day, you’re going to have to put your weight behind it and follow through.”

He was teaching the boy how to kill him! Tearloch intended to die!

My insides turned to ice. He was going to leave me…just as I had believed I was leaving him.

He moved next to Nogel and demonstrated how to swing horizontally. “Now you do it.”

Nogel barely lifted the sword, never took a step.

Tearloch lifted his arm and backhanded him across the face. “Snap out of it, boy! Time to fight for yourself!”

Nogel shook his head as if just waking up. Then he tried again, stepping forward as he lunged. But there was no power behind it.

Across the arena, just beyond the lowest barrier, Ciro watched. He sat on a bench, hunched forward, as if in pain. Even from that distance, I could see pale trails down his face. Maybe killing his dragon had caused some torture after all.

If Tearloch jumped the barrier and sliced off his head, would the mob force him to fight Nogel? Or could we get out during the ensuing chaos?

I put the question to Sweetie.

“He’d die in the trying.” He nodded at the number of guards surrounding the madman. “And Tearloch would have considered it. Besides, you’re tied in. We’ll need time to get you free.”

“I have a dagger in my boot.”

Horns sounded in the distance. All eyes turned to the skies. Closer horns answered back, and Ciro forced himself to his feet. Guards flooded the arena floor. They surrounded Tearloch and Nogel, forced them to their knees, then held them there.

Someone was coming through the dome!

Minkin lifted my skirt and found my dagger, then went to work on the ties. No one noticed her being out of place. Bain leaned closer to Sweetie, closing the small gap left by her absence. After the ties fell away, Minkin placed the dagger hilt in my hand and crept back to take her place between the men.

I wanted to vault the short wall and join Tearloch, but with everyone in the arena frozen in place and all Ciro’s guards on alert, any movement would be noticed. So I sat there, watching the sky beyond the metal grid with equal parts hope and dread. But still, the small dome remained in place.

Finally, a runner came through the dragon door and ran for the stairs. Someone directed him to the lower level where Ciro waited. Whatever news he delivered, Ciro was furious enough to throw the messenger over the front of the wall, but since he wasn’t in his usual box, the man didn’t fall far. He quickly found his feet and ran back out of the arena the way he’d come.

After a moment’s ranting, Ciro called people to him, barked orders, then staggered back to the bench and collapsed. He called for his drink and poured it down his throat while he glared at the retreating metal dome.

If we still had a dragon, we might have escaped then…

The monsters in the stands gasped when the black figures of three giant dragons passed overhead and circled the structure. As they spiraled lower, the DeNoy beasts fled their perch to make room for them. A small purple dragon trailed behind, but instead of perching on the rim, it continued to spiral down to the arena floor. It was as large as Skullcrusher had been, but a dwarf compared to its traveling companions.

Its rider was a woman. Behind her sat another woman and a lean man with gray hair who wore a full suit of gray leather armor. He dismounted first, then lent a hand to the woman as she made her way to the ground. As soon as the couple stepped free, the purple beast lunged into the air and joined the black dragons on the rim.

Still unable to straighten completely, Ciro’s pained steps took him around the end of the barrier and into the center of the floor to greet the newcomers. He reached for the woman’s hand, but when she pulled it away, he knelt instead.

“I was not expecting you, Prophetess.”

My gasp was awkwardly loud in the quiet amphitheater, and I seemed to be the only one surprised. Could this be Moire?

Her rich dark hair was piled high on her head, pinned in place by glittering things that had fared relatively well in the wind of dragonflight. Curls poured down her back and over her shoulder and blended with the fur collar of her coat. Her skin was flawless, her black eyes were both kind and clever. Beneath a dainty, pointed nose, her lips were pink perfection.

“Not expecting me?” She leaned down to hiss at the back of Ciro’s head. “You’re a fool to think I wouldn’t know! And you will pay for the lives you took to keep your secret.” She pulled herself upright again and spoke loud enough for all to hear. “How dare you play your twisted games with one of the royal family!”

All eyes turned to me, including Ciro’s. His surprise made him forget himself and he stood. “It is merely a costume?—”

“Not her,” the woman said. “Him!” She pointed at Griffon who, in spite of still consoling his woman, managed a relieved smile.

Ciro shook his head. “He’s a seraph. From Earth.”

“Yes,” she said. “And my husband’s son.”

The gray-haired man followed her pointing finger and strode directly to the wall in front of us. With his long legs, he hopped smoothly over the top and squatted in front of the couple, noting the wounds all over Griffon’s chest. “My son. Are you all right?”

Now I was confused. Griffon’s father was married to Moire? But in Hestian lore, her husband was exiled forever. So I had no idea who this man was. Surely, Griffon would have told us if Moire was his mother. But then again, Griffon’s only concern was Lennon and getting her and Kivi home. He’d never spoken about himself.

“Yes, father. I will manage. Though Kivi is dead.”

“No! Not Kivi!” As he stood, the man pulled Lennon from under Griffon’s arm and into his own embrace. “Oh, my girl. My poor girl. What a terrible price you’ve had to pay for our sakes.” After a long minute, he let go of her and took a step back. “Let’s get you out of this place.”

“We must take our friends as well,” Griffon said. “All those who survived.”

“We will take as many as you like.”

Hope finally penetrated the cloud around my brain. “It’s over?”

Griffon’s father reached down and patted my cheek. “Yes, child. It’s over.”

I looked past him to search for Tearloch. The guards in blue and black who had stood over him and Nogel were now on their knees awaiting their fate, being watched over by a few of the king’s guard in black and gold. Nogel grinned and wept while two other dragon riders pounded him on the shoulders. And Tearloch…had his arms wrapped around the woman Ciro had called Prophetess.

“Who is she?” I asked aloud.

Griffon’s father answered. “My wife, Moire.”

“And how does she know Tearloch?”

Sweetie nudged my shoulder. “Easy, love. We’ve worked for her for a few years now. I’m certain he’s merely showing his appreciation.”

“Let’s hope so,” the older man said, then chuckled and gave me a wink.

I was stuck on Sweetie’s words. “You mean you all know Moire. Why didn’t you tell me? You knew I wanted to find her.”

“Yes, we knew. And we came along to make sure you did.”

Tearloch stepped back from the woman, bowed his head, then looked for me. My heart held its breath while I savored each step he took in my direction. Then he vaulted the wall and reached for me. I wept shamelessly when he pulled me into his arms. My head still throbbed, but the joy of the moment dulled the pain.

People slowly moved away. Breath after breath, I regained my composure. And beat after beat, our hearts fell into the same rhythm, bumping against what little bone and flesh separated them as we pressed against each other.

“We’re still here,” I murmured. “We’re both still here.”

He pulled back to look at me. “Your head. Are you all right?”

“I will be.”

“Do you want to tell me how you killed that dragon?”

“Well, it wasn’t anything I read in a book.”

He laughed. “That’s all right. You can tell me later. I assume it was something similar to what you did with Old Grim?”

“It was.”

A shadow passed over his face and I knew he was tempted to say something more, but he hugged me to him again, briefly, before we joined the others. One of the black dragons came down to fill the arena, and while we loaded onto its back, Moire had a great deal to say to the monsters in the stands. In the end, she didn’t trust them to punish Ciro and ordered one of her men to remove his head. Then she advised them to be careful about whom they chose as their leader, that she would be back to judge them again.

It was impossible to tell what the mute onlookers were thinking. But while we waited for Moire and her husband to mount the purple dragon, the tall DeNoy in emerald green made his way down the steps and onto the arena floor. I thought he might want a word with Moire, but he passed by her dragon without looking up, his attention fixed on the headless body of Ciro.

When he reached it, he used the toe of his boot to flip it onto its back, then he took a deep breath, and spit on it. A good many in the mob cheered, and it gave me hope.

Maybe they weren’t all monsters after all.