Page 51

I rushed beside Fennor, thinking of the acolyte—Wilem—dashing through a rubble-strewn cathedral to find a boy who would soon be dead.

Tremors hit me, and for an instant, I imagined the dampness of old blood beneath my feet. But it was only the cold ground seeping through my shoes.

Overhead, ghost clouds muted the crescent moon, then parted to reveal the blue demon orb dominating the sky, trailing a long-forked tail that seemed to sparkle with mage magic.

The Malice Moon.

The day I’d arrived in Shiala, the blue orb had glistened with the same eerie maliciousness, and for no reason other than empathy, I worried about the King’s Guard camped in their tents.

The beautiful horses with Eydis Khoth, tied beneath the trees.

I worried that their mages might not be powerful enough if the blue rain hit.

Would the mages in the Stone Tower come out to help? Or would they hide behind their thick walls and shoot streams of magic from the crenelated tower?

Kion waited in a clearing, still in his formal clothes but armed; the wicked sword loomed above his shoulder, rising from a black scabbard fastened against his back. Fennor, who’d remained silent during the short hike, murmured about fetching the horses before he disappeared into the trees.

I struggled to remain steady. Even in the pale moonlight, the menace in Kion was visible, the harsh judgment on his face.

The sense that this was our fate flayed me, how we always faced each other with no mercy left between us.

“I don’t blame you,” I said. “What I’ve done doesn’t deserve forgiveness. I didn’t call Bogo here, but I called him years ago, and the continuing sin is mine.”

“I said things to you I didn’t mean.”

“And I hurt you when I shouldn’t have. Hurt those you care about.

I’m not your enemy, Kion. You asked me to stay, and I came here instead, not to betray you, but to become stronger than my enemies.

I must stop Tarian and his priests. I am what he covets, and now, I need to stop Halla Taja from her revenge.

Keep Eydis Khoth lost somewhere in the desert.

Protect those they seek to harm, and this is the only way I know to do these things. ”

Kion shifted his weight. The breeze ruffled his hair, and in the blue light from the Malice Moon, he was luminous with power, a wild God of old. He said my name.

I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“And yet, I am here.”

“Because Sarnorinth gave you another penance. But this fight between us is unwinnable. We are the same but in opposition, you and I, and I can’t stop being Skyborne any more than you can stop being the Draakon.”

“You don’t have to fight them alone.”

“I must.” My hands curled. “The sins are mine, as is the obligation, and I won’t ask you to suffer in my stead.

Both of us have been called to a higher service, and I have accepted it, as you have accepted your path.

I’ve come willingly into this underworld, and I will not run the way my mother ran.

I will stay and fight for those I love.”

“Sen…” He reached as if he feared I’d dart away. “It isn’t safe here.”

My face heated. When had I ever felt safe? Walking, draped in veils? Listening to the insults? Kneeling in blood?

In a castle room with an open window, hoping Bogo would come?

The clouds parted and the moon reappeared, adding a milky light that turned the ground into a whitish shadow with an odd blue tinge to the foliage.

Tufted grasses swayed, undulating in the same edgy wind that tangled the skirt around my legs, forcing the memory of Silk, sitting in a drenched ship’s cabin, tossed by a storm at sea.

I’d stared at this man when he’d been tied to the wall…

the way I stared at him now, craving his strength yet drowning in his eyes.

Was he safe?

A familiar, high-pitched wyvern screech came from the trees; within seconds, Kion had the sword in his hand while he pushed me behind his back.

“Do you trust me?” he asked as we circled, back-to-back, close enough for his warmth to ease my exposed skin .

“Do you trust me?” I challenged in return.

“Yes.” The truth.

I moistened my lips, listening to the shifting sounds in the shrubbery, the cracking of branches, the rustling leaves. In the dark, a second wyvern shrieked, then a third. The attack would be triangular. They hunted as a pack. Warning each other of their positions. When to move.

My fingertips heated when the first wyvern broke through the vegetation. The others came from opposing directions, thick tails snapping as they prowled forward.

Each creature scented the air, turning their elongated heads from side to side. I counted the three I’d heard, grateful that no more emerged from the dark. But the low eerie chittering danced across my skin like the boney fingers of the dead.

“ Fuck! ” Kion held his weapon ready. “I start killing, and every wyvern within scenting distance comes running for the blood.”

“Great. A wyvern army,” I said as my foot rolled on a small stone.

Kion growled, “Sen…”

“I’m fine.” Regaining my balance, I glanced around. “Eydis claimed they had a language and I could talk to them.”

“They don’t listen to me.”

“You don’t sweet talk them like a Skyborne mage.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glinting.

Something in that look warmed me. I stepped carefully, not wanting to stumble again. The six-pointed star etched on my stomach throbbed while anticipation bubbled through my veins. Did I want this? Not the violence, but the connection with Kion at my back, fighting, trusting.

The closest wyvern chirped and leapt forward; a surge of mage power boiled from my hands with a force that disrupted the air, knocking the creature backward. The body skidded across the damp ground, legs still churning.

In my head, the warning formed, an image of fire burning them unless they ran away. I hoped the wyverns were aware enough to understand.

The second wyvern paused. I recognized the iron throat band with a broken chain, and said, “Iskaral.”

“You know its damn name?”

“He’s a gift.” I circled as Kion moved, keeping myself face-to-face with the wyvern as he sniffed at the one still stunned and lying on the ground. “Eydis said I hurt Iskaral’s feelings by leaving him behind.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s staying left behind.”

“Well, he can’t come with me because Sarnorinth offered to eat him as a snack.”

Kion stepped closer. “You feel sorry for a wyvern?”

“He can’t help what he is.” More of my conversation with Eydis came to mind, and I sent the image of fire toward the wyvern’s brain, an uneasy sensation, like penetrating thick mud. But the wyvern cocked its head. Chirped—a raw sound.

My fingers tingled. I refocused the magic, and an instant later, the iron throat band with its heavy chain split apart and fell to the ground, freeing the creature from whatever magic Eydis used to control him .

“Fire,” I said. “Burn. You. Leave now.” Flames raced from my fingertips—the unexpected benefit in being Skyborne, although Kion’s shock matched my own. Was I sufficiently provoked ?

A strange, nearly hysterical laugh tangled in my throat. The fiery stream poured to the ground like wet strings, like styrmir worm guts. Still, I kept it flowing in case the words and mental images meant nothing.

The wyvern straightened, tipped his head to chortle, a series of high-pitched shrieks that sliced into my brain. Was it talking back?

The third wyvern circled before racing away. Iskaral nudged the stunned wyvern, then left him where he lay and disappeared into the moving blue foliage, the branches that closed in, covering his escape like the rushing current in a stream.

“That was… fuck! ” Fennor said, his knuckles white as he held the leather reins of two agitated horses. “Promise me one thing, Senaria Wraithion. Keep your strange little Skyborne mind away from my dragon.”

“They’re talking to us again,” Kion said as he grasped my waist and lifted me onto a horse, swung into the saddle behind me. “The dragons. I hope sandstorms don’t make you sick.”

The Nephele Mountains—the Cloud Mountains—surrounded the Stone Tower and Shiala, extending for miles, with knife-edged peaks and a forest of pines cloaked in frozen mist. The horses were sturdy and fast. Kion’s intention was to reach a lower valley, where he’d open a mage portal out of sight from the castle and beyond the reach of the Stone Tower.

No one observed our escape. The portal was familiar, and as the light changed from dark to light, then dark again, I leaned against Kion’s chest, drawing warmth from his arms, shutting out everything beyond the heat of his palm when he covered the mage star on my stomach.

When the portal ended, Kion pulled a fleece-lined wool cloak from his pack, wrapped it around me against the cold. Then we were on the horses again, and I slept in his arms. Woke to daylight. Kion said we were going to Aram Dun, an ancient stronghold hidden deep in the Tholian Mountains.

Aram Dun was more of a territory, although there was a village: Gheim Vale. The Vale stood as a guardian against enemies, blocking the entrance to a valley. Miles beyond was the impregnable stone fortress, the ancient draakon refuge. A place where we’d be safe.

The dirt track led through grasslands, and when the sun was high, we paused to let the horses rest. Fennor scavenged berries; he had cheese and bread in his pack, and we sat on the ground in exhausted but comfortable silence before Fennor took his leave, turning where the road split into two and riding toward Samira.

Kion rode straight, passing a towering tree with broken shields, tattered flags, and weathered skeletons hanging from the branches .

“A warning,” was all he said.