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Mounted men waited at the Night River—Fennor and his felons. Kion Abaddon rode the sweat-stained horse. The mare was once again the docile mount, although I sat stiffly despite my exhaustion. I wouldn’t give her the chance to dump me overboard again.

I decided the Night River was aptly named. The water was black, icy cold, and swift-flowing. The current rushed against the mare’s stomach at the deepest point, and the lunge up the muddy bank came close to unseating me—that and the Wall’s magic.

I gritted my teeth against the energy that felt like blades slicing into my skin.

“This is a weak point,” Fennor said when I struggled to breathe. “Easy to get through.”

I’d been telling myself this wasn’t happening and I wasn’t on the way to the Faded Lands. I would wake up and find myself safe in Tarian’s castle.

But I wasn’t a child who could wish monsters away. Impossible, with monsters everywhere. I might even be one of them.

It wasn’t late afternoon, although the light suggested that it was, and I wondered if this was some characteristic of the Faded Lands. The scents were different from Thales. Different from the Black City. I supposed every place had its own scent, an identity that sank into memory.

A faint recognition stirred from long ago. My mother bending over me, and I was warm in her arms, breathing in an exotic mix of what I recognized in the air—was it the scent of woodlands and growing trees?

The path ahead turned. Kion and most of the escort had already disappeared. Only Fennor and the two men riding behind remained with me.

My hand flexed around the reins. With so few, I could numb their minds, make them believe nothing changed while I turned the mare and ran. I could reach the river before they realized what I’d done. Return to Thales, find Nikias, and disappear where no one would find us.

“I wouldn’t do it,” Fennor warned. “Red priests are hunting you.”

“I’ll avoid them,” I gritted.

“Not corrupted wyverns, you won’t.”

Wyverns—nothing more than illustrations in old books. The small, two-legged dragons, companions to demons, sitting on Wheels of Fortune.

Stories.

“They’re not real,” I said.

“Red priests breed them in the desert.”

Why did I bother arguing when dragons were not truly extinct? My gaze shifted toward Fennor. He had a solidness about him that settled me one moment, maddened me the next. “You were the rebel on the ship. The one who killed that red priest.”

“Yes.”

“I was never in your mind, was I?”

“No.”

My fingers tangled in the reins, my thumbs rubbing at the leather, over and over. “That attack…a rather bold effort, ramming a Davinicus ship in the middle of a storm.”

Fennor’s saddle creaked as he shifted his weight. “We had mage fire.” Burning everywhere. “Those were the orders.”

“Ever the loyal soldier.”

He frowned before staring at the heavy foliage. “I agreed with the goal to find you.” His tone had cooled. “But not the plan.”

“Not into kidnapping?” I taunted. “Risking a man’s life with mage priests? What if they’d gotten him to Deimos? To Iduma?”

“The risk was deemed manageable.”

“By whom?”

“The man tied to the wall.”

He meant Kion, the reluctant bridegroom. The man who said he was in no shape to perform.

I’d wanted Kion Abaddon to see me. See who I was. But we’d switched roles, and the Angel of Death became the justice speaker, luring me with lies, forcing me to face judgment for the crimes I’d committed.

I doubted I’d ever forget that, forget Tova with her front legs hugging. Forget the loss that would be Bogo when this was over. He was home now, what I’d always wanted. Wasn’t it?

“What would you have done differently?” I asked Fennor. “If the plan had been yours?”

He turned his head and stared with eyes dark and clear. “I would have let you drown.”

Chills wracked through me, but I met his challenge and said, “Finally, an honest man.”

Bogo stirred. I opened the vest. Waited while he crawled out, stretched his wings and took to the air.

“He bonded to you when you were five?”

I nodded.

Fennor’s attention returned to the road. “The dragons punished the Draakon because of him. Their young are precious to them. He had to find you. Bring you back.”

“And if I didn’t cooperate?”

“His sworn obligation is to the dragons, to kill when necessary. But he refused to kill you.”

“Why?” I asked bitterly. “Since I’m his curse.”

“I don’t know.” Fenner kept his attention on some distant point, while his voice lowered. “Letting you drown would have been easier on him.”

I let the words settle like drifting embers, turning into ash. “In the Black City, the stable master said the Draakon was like a king.”

“Before the Chaos, the draakons were like kings. Kion Abaddon is a weapon. Cursed for the failure of men—for our sins. And the sins of Thales. Cursed with penances written on that curse tablet he wears. ”

“Why would dragons do such a thing?”

Fennor’s confusion was sharp on his face. “You don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked,” I pointed out tightly.

“You were at the Plains of Celandine. The battle drew the dragons while the mages secretly attacked the breeding eyries high in the mountains. No young dragon survived, or the humans guarding them. The species was nearly annihilated. The dragons blamed us.”

Was this what Kion meant when he said they lied?

The deceit of Thales…I studied the shadowed forest. The malevolence cut deep.

“Kion had no choice.” Fennor’s voice hardened.

“He was the strongest of the dragon lords. His father fought and died in that field. He lost the rest of his family at the eyries, and in his grief, Kion Abaddon stood and faced the dragons, still covered in his father’s blood.

He accepted the condemnation, their judgment. Their mercy .”

Fennor twisted around so he faced me. “Do you know what dragons do to a man to turn him into the Draakon? They burn him with dragon fire. He doesn’t die, but everything he was, everything he’d ever hoped for, is turned into ash.

Have you seen his eyes? His hair? He cannot love or have a family.

He’ll never have children, never hear them laugh.

And in exchange for his sacrifice, they granted him unimaginable power.

The ability to endure pain, to heal. He fights with more skill than human men, wields magic stronger than the mages.

He protects this world. Protects the dragons, and his people. That’s who he is now. ”

For a moment…a single, long heartbeat…I allowed compassion to well up, blur my vision. But I was in the Faded Lands. The enemy’s hands. And Nikias was still in Thales. In the hands of a different enemy. “I have to protect my realm, my people.”

Fennor let his anger flow. “Is that what you did as Silk, when you tricked men into betraying themselves? How many died? For whose sins? Theirs? Yours? Ours?”

“You have no right to judge me.”

“I won’t,” he snarled. “The dragons will do it.”

The mare jostled restlessly. Perhaps she’d picked up on the animosity swirling between Fennor and I.

Brushing at the mare’s neck where the mane was damp, I said, “At least storms are good for something. They wash away the lies.”

“And expose a muddy truth, full of the shit nobody wants,” Fennor agreed.

“For two hundred years, the dragons have been silent, refusing to speak to us. And during those same years, the Draakon has sacrificed, worked to reestablish trust. Then you appeared and tore it all apart. He had no choice but to find you. Return those who’d been missing. More than the dragons blame you.”

“Am I allowed no defense?” My throat had tightened. “You would punish me without question and hope it’s enough to end the hatred? I saw what was left of Tova—no atonement will be enough for what men did to her.”

Fennor’s smile flashed with a predator’s satisfaction. “You understand the predicament. ”

“I understand obstinance. Resentment and revenge. Nothing good will come of it, no matter what your precious dragons demand.”

The breeze brushed my skin with cooling fingers.

I shivered. The horses grew fretful. Fennor reined his gelding closer to the mare and brought us both to a halt.

The two men behind did the same. We’d caught up with Kion’s group, who also sat on their horses, unmoving, while a shadow darkened the already overcast sky.

A trumpeting scream pierced the clouds. The shadow became form. Still distant, but arrowing closer on powerful wings. Magnificently terrifying as the dragon tipped his head and bellowed again.

Kion stood alone in the middle of the road. The dragon circled, and the downward beat of his massive wings dried my mouth. Bogo dove like a tiny, frantic bullet, thudding against my chest and burrowing deep into the vest.

“Fuck,” Fennor whispered, reaching out to grip my wrist while I struggled with the little rat. “Make him go.”

“I can’t make him go anywhere.”

The dragon circled again, his bellow lifting strands of my hair.

The mare was dancing. Her eyes had whitened.

Fennor slid to the ground. He dragged me from the horse and toward Kion.

Men moved out of our way, edging toward the trees.

The loose horses milled about until someone captured their reins and pulled them aside.

My skin dampened. I stroked Bogo when he trembled, murmuring nonsense words to him. I kept repeating you are home…you are home… in case he understood .

I wasn’t sure if Bogo’s heart raced faster than mine when he clawed his way up my throat to hide beneath my chin. His tail wrapped around my neck and I supposed it was his way of protecting me while I protected him.

But instinct warned me; this was Sarnorinth, Bogo’s sire. The dragon who believed I’d stolen his fledgling.

The ground vibrated when the dragon landed on the road. It was like the thudding of a monstrous weight, hard enough that small branches fell from the closest trees.

Mine. A voice like booming thunder echoed in my head.