Page 99 of Entwined

You two are pathetic. Phileas takes off again, not willing to wait any longer.

Gaia switches back again, her saddle much more elegant this time than the last. She’s learning, at least. Ride me.

Both of them are now looking, expectantly, at me. How do I resolve this without causing a fight?

We don’t have time for petty arguments. The horned toad dragon has a high, almost squeaky voice. Just ride Gaia. She’s faster.

“But she’s also been carrying me this entire time. I’d rather not wear her out.” I step toward Gaia, and I touch her side gently. “Thank you. I’ll never forget how you saved me.”

She tosses her head a little by way of response.

But then I turn toward the green snake, who leans down so I can easily climb into the saddle.

I’m Agrippa, she says. And I’m just as fast as Gaia.

When we finally set off again, it’s like she’s trying to prove it. Even when Phileas insists that we all switch positions so he isn’t stuck doing all the burrowing, Agrippa has no trouble keeping up.

I’m not sure how hard it is for them to travel underground, but we must do it for a hundred miles before they deem it safe to surface. They may not mind, or they might even like, being surrounded by vast tracts of cold earth, but I’m shivering, miserable, and filthy when we finally surface. I can’t wait to breathe in a lungful of fresh air.

Until the icy air hits me. They didn’t exactly give me a coat back at the hospital, probably to keep me from wanting to run away, but it’s absolutely freezing aboveground, and moments after surfacing, I brace myself to ask them to go back under.

We are making better time, but I might freeze to death up here. I’m shivering uncontrollably, and my fingers have gone entirely numb.

But before I can say anything, Agrippa notices. You’re cold.

“Keep going,” I say. “I’ll be fine.” Or I’ll freeze to her back, and I won’t need to hold on anymore.

We have miles yet to go. Phileas stops. When he does, the others do too, gathering closer. The water dragon hasn’t said a word yet, but the others start to argue over what to do.

Finally, though, Phileas shifts. He’s not very tall, but he’s surprisingly good looking for such a crabby dragon. His face is hawkish, almost too severe. His high cheekbones look just right with his brilliant yellow eyes, and his hair surrounds his head in a strange sort of stiff, thick halo—a bizarre echo of his frill in dragon form. “Here.” He thrusts something at me, much as Gaia did with the sword scabbard.

When I take it, I’m surprised to find it’s a cloak, not unlike the one Azar gave me, only it’s made of cloth. Bright red cloth.

“Thank you,” I say.

“It’s bright red—so you don’t forget who you killed.”

Oh, yes. Frilly dragon’s ticked.

“I never would have done it had I had a choice,” I whisper.

He spins around so fast that I can’t even react when his finger jabs me in the clavicle. “You leapt from his back. I saw you. You had a choice—you could have stayed on our side instead of trying to protect your people, the ones who were attacking us.”

He’s right about that.

“Have you ever done anything, thinking it’s the right thing to do at the moment, but regretted it later?”

He shifts back without answering me, and I realize that he doesn’t mean to answer. This time, once I’ve wrapped the cloak around myself, I climb up on Gaia’s back, and we’re off again. I’m not sure how far we go—the cloak doesn’t help as much as I’d hoped it would—but then I see something that’s far more chilling than the air.

A crater in the ground.

“Wait,” I shout.

The earth dragons won’t go anywhere near it.

“Please,” I beg. “I have to look at it.” Gideon’s words ring in my ears. Chunks of red scales and flesh. I shudder compulsively.

I’ll take you. It’s the first time the water dragon has said a word, and all of us turn to look at her. You refused to kill Wisteria, not because you were afraid, but because you wanted to give her whatever chance she might have to survive. She nods slowly. I’ll take you to the dark place.