Page 41 of The Dragon 2

Sol froze in horror.

Then a chorus of sharp, disbelieving laughter came.

The mother of the child turned pale. “Hush, Pamrin. That’s nonsense. Don’t speak such things.”

“But I saw—”

“Lowlys could never do such a thing. They are weak and stupid.” She clamped a hand over his mouth, dragging him back into the fold. The boy’s eyes went wide. Then, he turned and suddenly he somehow locked his gaze on Sol hiding within the shadows. “But Mom!”

“Enough, Pamrin! Enough!”

Sol rushed off.

Just keep going. No one will ever suspect it was me.

Still, her pulse was a storm.

She’d spent her life hiding magic, flattening it, surviving. Playingnothingin a world that only ever called her that.

Until today.

Until the dragon had turned toward the Lowly Quarter.

Until she’d seen her mother standing in the open, bucket of water in hand, ready to fight a god with nothing but love and defiance.

Something inside Sol had snapped.

She hadn’t thought.

She’d only acted, racing off to where Korin flew and raised her hands in the air. She didn’t even know if her magic would work or not.

Thank the Goddess that it did.

Her father’s voice sounded in her head.

“They’ll cage you, girl. Cage you and drain you like a spring. Don’t ever let them see what you can do.”

Sol slipped past the edge of the main square, left the space, and headed onto the narrowing street that led toward the Lowly Quarter.

The cries of the wounded, the clash of buckets against fire, the hum of fear and delusion—all of it faded behind her like a curtain drawn shut.

But something else lingered.

Eyes.

She felt them.

Not like before, not the frenzied attention of soldiers or the boy’s stunned gaze—but something else.

These eyes were on her, and they were focused and steady.

No one ever saw her.

But now, someone did.

And their gaze didn’t just watch.

It claimed.