Page 15

Chapter 14

A zriel dodged Kall’s jab and blocked the following hook with his arm, expertly shifting his limb through the crook of his horn. Sweat ran down his bare chest and back, chilling him with each whisper of wind off the mountainous valley. His body felt stronger than it had in weeks. It moved with ease at his commands, and the heavy muscle had almost returned to how it had been prior to his imprisonment.

Between meetings with his council, creating allies in the dhemon clans, and overseeing the ins and outs of Auhla , he hadn’t had much time to train. Fitting it in was a chore, which he hated as it had once been his favorite way to relax. Calm his mind. Keep himself from brash mistakes. Now he was lucky to find himself in the field with his friends once a week.

Except now it wasn’t just his friends who joined in on the fun. Margot watched from the sidelines, where she sat on a blanket with her stitching in hand. She cheered them on, her age-bleached hair a beacon in the darkness.

But it wasn’t his grandmother who intrigued him the most. It was his wife.

Ariadne slowed to a walk, returning from a run through the nearby woods alongside Lhuka, who excused himself to wash up and take his place in the guard rotation. Her stunning blue eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of him, lips curling into a perfect smile.

In his moment of hesitation, Kall sank low, cupped the back of Azriel’s knees, and slammed his back to the ground. Azriel tucked his chin to his chest to keep his head from smacking the ground and hardly sucked in a full breath before the massive dhemon was on him. With a knee pressed into his diaphragm, he wheezed and bridged, shoving Kall’s foot between his legs to regain some semblance of control.

A chorus of giggles came from Margot and Ariadne as they exchanged words. Azriel blocked out the sound, knowing full well that Kall wouldn’t let up until one of them was either unconscious or had tapped out of the round.

So Azriel shifted onto his knees, sliding a hand under Kall’s arm and around his back. Before he could shrug the larger dhemon’s arm off his shoulders, Kall lifted his far leg and swung into a seated position. Azriel tried to sit back but Kall gripped his wrist and yanked at the same time he swept Azriel’s legs out from under him.

Azriel’s back hit the ground again. With a growl of frustration, he made to sit back up, but was forced to block the massive fist careening toward his face. Kall was on him in an instant. Setting all his weight on Azriel’s chest, he rained down a flurry of punches. It wasn’t until one made it past Azriel’s horns and hands, cracking against his face, that the dhemon let up.

The world spun from the combination of oxygen deprivation and the knuckles to his temple when Azriel opened his eyes to see Kall standing. He motioned for Ariadne to join him, and though she shot Azriel a worrisome look, she stepped up to the dhemon, who held out a handkerchief.

“Azriel,” Margot called from her perch on the blanket. He dragged his eyes from the pair before him, heart picking up for an entirely new reason, and found her waving him over. “Join me, Grandson.”

Sudden movement from the sparring duo snapped Azriel’s attention back to Ariadne, her eyes covered by a small strip of cloth. She blocked a swing from Kall, using her hands to locate his body, and transferred her weight before moving to sweep the dhemon’s legs out from under him. Faster than he could think, Azriel was on his feet, fangs bared. Despite having taken Phulan’s potion that evening, the rush of adrenaline had him shaking.

“Azriel!” Margot’s sudden, firm voice jolted him from his own mind.

Kall paused, his red eyes sliding to Azriel.

But Ariadne used the moment of distraction to hook Kall’s leg and dump him onto his back. Her triumphant laugh soothed the rabid part of Azriel that had him ready to tear into the dhemon for so much as looking at his unseeing wife.

The practice of training blindfolded wasn’t new to Azriel, though he was shocked to see Kall moving Ariadne into such a difficult training regimen so soon. He hadn’t been introduced to the concept until much later in his life. To Kall’s credit, however, they didn’t have the luxury of time when it came to preparing Ariadne for the potential fights that lay ahead.

“Sit.” His grandmother’s command, not unlike how a hunter would address his unruly hound, had him moving like the obedient grandchild he had been so many centuries ago.

He sat in the grass near the blanket, back to the sparring. If he looked for too long at the two of them together, he very well might put a violent end to one of his best friends. Merely hearing the sounds coming from the pair was enough to make his skin crawl.

“You are doing well.” Margot held out a waterskin. The rough leather looked strange in her hands, like so many other things about this place. Yet despite the clothes and lack of Caersan finery, she appeared at ease with where she ended up. Perhaps being in Auhla was like getting to witness the lost secrets of her daughter’s life and the upbringing of her only grandchildren.

Drinking the offered water, a fire lit in Azriel’s blood at the sound of a particularly loud smack and Ariadne hissing through her teeth. The cool, clear liquid gushed from the narrow opening as his fist squeezed shut.

This is what you deserve .

“Look at me.” Margot’s calm voice cut through the encroaching memories of Melia’s illusions. He leveled his frenzied gaze at her and sucked in a shaking breath. “She is safe. He will not push her too far.”

Two sides warred within Azriel at that. One softened to the reminder that Ariadne was, indeed, safe with Kall. His friend would never hurt her on purpose. The other raged. Did Kall not think her strong enough to best him? To take what he could throw at her and hand it back twice as hard?

If only she understood how strong she really was…

“I know,” he agreed after a moment, still resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. Handing back the waterskin, Azriel turned his attention to his scarred hands of midnight sapphire. “There’s a lot going on in my mind lately.”

Margot surveyed him. “I recall something similar happening to your father.”

That wasn’t what he expected her to say. Azriel snapped his eyes back to his grandmother and lowered his brows. “You knew my father?”

“No.” Margot’s soft chuckle had a dreamy sense to it. She shook her head, and her green eyes, so much like his own in his vampire form, went distant. “But there were nights when Mariana would disappear more often.”

He said nothing, not wanting to break her from the sudden memories.

“She spoke of needing time in the woods.” Her small smile grew wistful. “I thought nothing of it at the time. Your mother loved the outdoors. So she would come to the Caldwell Estate, leave you boys behind, and walk out into the trees alone.”

Azriel sorted through his own foggy memories of his childhood amongst the vampires. He’d spent a mere fifteen years with them, and over five centuries, most of those moments were lost to time. His mother’s face was not. The stories she told and the times she walked into the forest with him and Madan at her side could never be erased.

But they were often clouded by their final journey between those trees—the one from which she never returned.

“Sometimes, she went weeks between visits.” Margot looked over his shoulder. “I had never seen someone as distraught as your mother during those nights without your father…until I met your wife. Ariadne had the same frantic energy when I met her.”

Another bit of information he had not expected to hear. Not from Margot. Not from anyone. Certainly, he had known Ariadne was desperate to find him—she sought out help from dhemons to make it happen. But for his own mother to have had a similar response at being separated from his father? That had not been on his list of guesses for this life.

“I assume your father had gone away for…whatever it is he did at the time.” She turned her attention back to him. “You look like him. At least I assume you do. When you are like this…you do not look so much like my Mariana.”

It had been a matter of pride for Azriel when he transitioned to vampiric adulthood and accidentally transformed for the first time. He’d thought he was dying at the time. Instead, he woke to a changed face. Still the same nose, cheekbones, eye shape, and mouth…but different all the same. Harder. More prominent.

Azriel would never forget the look on his father’s face when he found him like that. A mixture of surprise and horror and hope. Perhaps the Crowe had feared Azriel hadn’t truly been his. In that moment, he’d known for certain the truth.

That was when Azriel’s reign of terror began in the Valley. When he began leading dhemons into Valenul to raid, murder, and burn villages.

“But I digress.” Margot smiled again. “When your father returned from his journeys, Mariana spent every waking moment in those woods with him. I suspect he felt very similar to you, and from the way Ariadne reacts when you’re not around, it impacts her more than you know. Just like it impacted your mother.”

Not for the first time in his life, Azriel wished he could speak with his parents. He had so many questions for them both. How did his mother survive a loveless marriage? How did his father survive watching her go home to such a despicable man?

“Why did she decide to finally try to run away?” The question left Azriel before he could weigh it. He refocused on his hands, heat flushing his cheeks. Behind him, the sparring did not waver, and he continued to ignore it.

Margot didn’t reply right away. When she did, her voice was soft. “I am not certain, but I presume it was because Markus was finally going to move you all to Laeton.”

Azriel stilled. He’d never known that.

“She gave her life trying to keep you with your father.”

Looking up again, an icy cold spread out from his center. “But Madan…”

“Your father obviously loved Madan enough to keep him safe.” Margot picked up her stitching again. “I hope he knew just how grateful I am for him.”

“Grateful?” The Crowe had gotten her daughter killed. How could she be grateful for such a horrific end to Mariana’s life?

“Yes.” She stabbed her needle through the stretched fabric. “Without him, I would never have had you. Without him, Mariana would have been miserable while hidden away in Eastwood, as though she were never good enough. Without him, there would be no hope in saving this Valley before it rips itself apart.”

Azriel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You.” Margot still did not meet his gaze. “You are the only hope I can see for keeping this war from destroying everything.”

“I’m not—”

Her peridot eyes pierced him so fast, he snapped his mouth shut. “Both sides of this war want her . You are the only one standing in their way. Put an end to them both, and you will save every vampire and dhemon in the region.”

Staring at her for a long moment, Azriel tried to wrap his mind around his grandmother’s words. He’d never considered himself to be the pivotal point in the war. If he weren’t here, he had always imagined someone else would step up and take care of it.

But she was right. Everyone else fought for land, control, and power. They sought to dominate their opponents and relieve the world of them.

Azriel fought for one thing only: to keep Ariadne safe.

Ariadne tilted her head to the side over the massive tub and squeezed the excess water from her long curls. Very little topped the feeling of getting clean after a long night of training—aside from, perhaps, the way Azriel touched her. Filled her. Pleasured her.

As though on cue, Azriel sucked in a deep inhale from across the room and turned to her with heat in his peridot eyes. He’d changed back into his vampire form while sitting with Margot not long before they retired inside the keep to dine and ready for the morning. A towel hung loose around his hips, damp hair hanging in dripping locks around his tan face.

“Mmm…” A sly smirk curled his sensuous mouth. “What are you thinking about, my love?”

Unable to hide the blush cascading across her cheeks, Ariadne finished wringing out her hair and turned to him, drying her body with her own towel. A fire lit in her veins as he swept his gaze across her face, breasts, hips, and legs. He devoured her from afar, his own arousal evident the longer he took her in.

“I am thinking about you,” she breathed, hanging the towel from the edge of a privacy screen near the tub.

Azriel tilted his head. “What about me?”

Biting her lip, she edged a little closer. Gods, how far she had come since their wedding morning. No longer hiding her body. No longer afraid of the scars she once bore on her back. Now she looked at her husband with confidence. “About the way you touch me.”

“Would you like me to touch you again?” He waited for her to slink within reach before pushing her damp curls back from her face. “Just tell me what you want.”

Ariadne rose onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. “Hold me.”

Without hesitation, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “I wish I could fall asleep beside you every day.”

The mounting heat in her plateaued. Ariadne pursed her lips and scanned his face. “What do you mean?”

Regret shone back at her. If she could crawl inside her husband’s mind, she would likely hear his own self-deprecation on his slip of words. It would not be the first time he had done so, after all; it had been how she learned of his dhemon form months ago. As it were, she had no idea what he referred to and leaned back in his arms to get a better look at his face.

“I leave for another clan tomorrow.” He grimaced at his own words.

Narrowing her eyes, she took a small step back. “When were you planning to tell me?”

“This morning.” Something akin to fear sparked in his expression as he took in the sudden distance between them. Small though it was, he followed and closed the space again. “It’ll be quick. Just one day, and I’ll be back.”

She slid a hand up his chest but did not move again. Beneath her palm, his heart pounded like he had finished running at full-sprint mere seconds ago. “Take me with you.”

At first, he merely gaped at her. A thousand scenarios she could not comprehend passed behind his eyes. When he spoke, his voice grew rough. “Ariadne…I don’t think—”

“You cannot keep leaving me here.” Now she stepped away, breaking free of his hold completely. Before he could bring her back to him, she crossed the room again and pulled on the silk robe Phulan had gifted her back in Algorath. She tied it closed, effectively shutting herself off from any more of his advances.

When she rounded on him, true fear lit up Azriel’s face. He took in the robe. The distance. The very different heat seeping into her veins.

After opening his mouth several times in search of words he found least egregious, he said, “It’s dangerous. People are dying out there. They’re angry. If anything happened to you…”

Ariadne’s heart cracked. She swallowed hard, forcing back the raw emotions of being left behind again and again. Of being forced to throw herself into training so she could ignore the shadows of her past watching her from every corner. Of waking each night alone in a room she hated. “They are dying out there?”

“Yes,” he breathed and took one cautious step forward.

Like him, Ariadne struggled to find the correct words to describe her pain. Gesturing around her as she turned in a circle, she let her arms drop helplessly before pivoting back to face him. “I am dying in here .”

Azriel froze his advance. His dark brows twitched together as he searched her face for what she could only assume was something that might convince him she was joking. “What?”

“This place!” Ariadne looked at the room at large, taking in every shadowy nook. He had chosen this room for its spaciousness—to provide her with a haven within her own personal hell so she need not think of her past. “This place is killing me. You have abandoned me here.”

“I never meant to do that.” Azriel blinked hard, no doubt remembering the first time she had accused him of abandoning her all those months ago in Laeton. Only that time, she had drawn up close to him rather than stay away. Following her line of sight, his lips parted in shock. “I only wanted to protect you. After what happened that night with the clan leaders…”

“Take me with you.” The words fell from her lips hard and final—the command of a Queen. Ariadne straightened her back and set her jaw with determination.

Still, Azriel shook his head, eyes rimmed silver. “If something were to happen—”

“I can take care of myself.” Ariadne held her head high. Behind her ribs, her heart slammed like a drum, heavy and fast. It drowned out her thoughts beyond that which she had finally deemed necessary to voice. “You have seen me train. Let me help you. You said it yourself: the clans need to see us, vampire and dhemon, united.”

Face paling, the tears finally fell. They slipped down his cheeks, catching on the scar she had given him so long ago outside the Bistro. The expression was akin to seeing a ghost. Perhaps he did every time he saw her now. “I can’t lose you again.”

It took everything in Ariadne to hold firm to her convictions as the man she loved more than anything crumbled beneath the weight of his own trauma. She could not back down. Not when she had worked so hard to reclaim her own fears and was ready to face the world. They both had suffered, and her pain was just as great as his. Now he needed to understand just how serious she was and that she would not stand by as he deserted her again and again.

“The only way you will lose me,” she said after a moment to contemplate, “is if you continue to leave me here.”

Understanding flashed across his face, and Azriel took several steps closer, shaking his head again. “My love. Please.”

“I will leave.”

“You wouldn’t.” He froze in his tracks once more, eyes wide with a fear she could feel in her bones. The same fear that stayed her feet when they first arrived at the keep. The same fear that choked her each time she spiraled into darkness at the sight of those bloodstained stones at the entry.

The fire in her throat almost caught her words. She pushed through the pain and said, “I would do anything for you…but I must also look after myself. After all I have done for us both, I deserve that.”

“Let me look after you. That is all I wish—to keep you safe.”

“I will not be imprisoned here again!”

Azriel reeled back as though she had struck him, gaping. “Imprisoned?”

Ariadne swallowed hard. A poor choice of words, perhaps, but they were true. He had dragged her here twice now. Forced her into the halls of a keep she hated more than anything, then left her there to fight her memories alone.

When next she spoke, she struggled to put the strength behind it that she desired. The words crumbled on her breath, “That is what you have done each time you left me behind.”

“I never intended…” The excuse faded, and after a moment, Azriel nodded. His hands shook at his sides, but he grit his teeth with steady resolve. “As you wish, my love. Come with me.”

For the first time since setting foot in that damned keep, hope ignited in Ariadne’s chest. She closed the distance between them and cupped his cheek, wiping away the tears there. In response, he pressed his face into her touch, never taking his eyes off her as she said, “Thank you.”

Laying a hand over hers, he kissed her palm. “Promise me one thing.”

“What is it?” A cool dread curled in her gut at that.

“Stay by my side.” He searched her face again, a haunted expression tearing through her heart. “No matter what. Stay with me, and don’t run off on your own.”

Ariadne frowned. “Of course not.”

Without another word, Azriel nodded, pulled her close, and inhaled deep. He held her there for a long moment, and though perhaps she had chosen the wrong words, she did not regret them. Still, she held him in return, only letting go when he pulled back to stalk into the near-barren closet in search of day clothes.

Madan packed several books into his satchel after sleeping in a room near the library of Rhuvensk . Sasja remained in the library itself throughout the night, claiming she could not sleep in a bed comfortably.

“After spending so many nights on a stone floor,” she had explained when Whelan pointed out the functional room adjacent to theirs, “it’s difficult to readjust to a mattress. I’ll stay in here and keep looking for more information about the ritual.”

Her words had haunted him when he curled up beside Whelan under a moth-eaten quilt and burrowed into the plush comfort the bed afforded him. She had been in the prison a mere month longer than Azriel, that much he’d uncovered. What her life had been like prior to Algorath, however, he had no idea, and she refused to speak of it.

Did his brother struggle with the same adjustments? Or had Sasja been so poorly treated by Ehrun that she didn’t remember anything different?

“It’s time to go,” Madan called into the bowels of the library as he secured his satchel and turned in place to take in the building one last time.

Whelan stood near the doorway, looking at him as he usually did, his vibrant eyes soaking him up. As much as Madan would love to indulge him in his fantasies of fucking against the bookshelves, it wasn’t the place nor the time to do so.

“I love it when you take control,” Whelan said with a wink, taunting him after the similar statement he’d made the previous day.

Madan glowered at him. “You love when you give me the illusion of control just to put me back in my place.”

The resulting laugh and series of memories had Madan adjusting himself just in time for Sasja to round the corner with her own pack heavy over her shoulder. He bit back a groan of frustration as wry amusement lit up her face on her next inhale. Her eyes glowed in that way that told him she was checking his heat signature through the low light before she shook her head and moved toward the exit.

“Do you two ever stop?” She edged past Whelan into the hallway beyond and led them back through the maze of half-burned ruins.

“I’d prefer not to, but—” The sentence cut short with a wheeze as Madan’s elbow jammed into Whelan’s diaphragm. Despite the sudden blow, the dhemon only looked at him with more heat in his gaze. A silent promise that he wouldn’t forget that when next they were alone.

Passing open curtains had Madan touching the cool stone necklace against his chest. The Noct, in all its strangeness, was not foreign to him. He’d used it many times in Algorath thanks to Phulan’s generosity but always kept it in his pocket. That Ariadne had it made into a necklace didn’t bother him, and in fact, he preferred it there. Less likely to go missing.

Still, Whelan shot him a wary look before glaring out the window at the rising sun as though it were an adversary he could remove to keep Madan safe.

“I’m fine,” Madan reassured him and wove his fingers between those of his partner.

Tension did not ease from Whelan’s shoulders. “I’ll believe it when we’re back home.”

Home. Auhla . The one place Madan had sworn to stay away from after his sister’s abduction and his own imprisonment within the walls. Though he hadn’t been mistreated, it’d taken a lot of planning in the darkness of that dungeon to figure out how he’d convince Ehrun to release him early.

“There’s another sister,” he’d said through the door of his cell all those months ago. “I’ll get the other and bring her back.”

Naturally, Ehrun had been skeptical. “Why would you help me?”

But Madan had been ready for the question. “Because I hate Markus Harlow as much as you.”

“Doubtful.”

“He’s my father.” It’d been Madan’s only card to play—one he’d held close to his chest for a long time with the hope that he’d be able to use it to his advantage one day. “And he killed my mother. He deserves a life of misery.”

Ehrun had scoffed at that. “Then she’s your sister.”

“My only loyalty,” he’d lied, heart thundering at the possibility that it wouldn’t work, “lays within these halls. I want Valenul to burn. Let me burn it with you.”

The silence after that statement had had Madan doubting himself. A moment later, though, the cell clicked open, and he stepped back to look at Ehrun fully. The dhemon lifted his lip in a snarl. “I don’t trust you.”

“Let me prove it to you.” Madan had held his ground as Ehrun stepped forward. “I’m the only one who will get into those halls again. I’m a guard to them, and your only chance at getting her.”

That did the trick. After a moment of contemplation, Ehrun shifted aside for Madan to leave…only he hadn’t left. He ran to Brutis, circled just north of the keep until nightfall, and then freed his brother to exact his vengeance and save his sister.

“ Think of evil and he shall appear .” Brutis’s words pierced through Madan’s memories and dragged him back to the present.

But they made no sense. “ What are you on about ?”

Images flashed through Madan’s mind. Ehrun and two others flew low over the southern keep, sending Brutis and Oria a slew of thoughts and messages. Everything from promises of death to taunts to get the two dragons off the ground and in the air to fight.

“Whelan.” Madan stopped dead.

“I know.” His partner turned to stare at him with wide eyes. They hadn’t come to Rhuvensk prepared for a fight. Of course, they always wore their swords, but they’d donned no armor and kept no one near enough to call for help if it got out of hand.

And it would. Ehrun’s mind might have been falling apart from his broken bond, but his bondheart did nothing to help keep it together. If anything, their vinculum acted like a mirror that only amplified the madness.

“What is it?” Sasja slowed to look between them.

Madan grimaced. “Ehrun is here.”

Her face paled. This had been her fear since joining their ranks in Auhla . It’d been the exact reason she didn’t trust herself with the location of the clutch.

Letting the prospect of facing the false Dhemon King again sink in, Sasja pulled the pack from her back and held it out to Whelan. “Don’t let him get this.”

“If he’s here for us—”

“He won’t be once he sees me.” Sasja stared blankly at a point ahead of her and swallowed back whatever emotions caused the rim of silver around her eyes. “He’ll take me and forget about you.”

An icy chill ran through Madan’s veins. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Just tell Kall I’m sorry.”

Brutis’s adrenaline surged as he held his ground against the trio in flight. One swooped down close, stretching out their claws at his face. He ducked, but a series of curses careened through Madan’s mind. “ We have to go now.”

“ We can’t outfly them .”

“ We can outmaneuver them .”

Next, Oria spoke up, her regal voice piercing: “ They’re going to burn the keep . Get out !”

“Fuck!” Whelan grabbed Sasja’s bag and slung it over his shoulder before barking to her, “Run. Now.”

Recognizing the panic in his tone, Sasja turned and sprinted down the halls. She led them down the last twists and turns toward the destroyed foyer. They followed on her heels, blocking out the images of their bondhearts stubbornly refusing to take flight.

Rounding the last corner, a massive bronze dragon landed on the ruins before them, blocking the staircase. Sehrox—one of the largest dragons to have hatched from the clutch. His opalescent eyes tracked their steps as they reeled to a halt. Then, with a flash of teeth the length of Madan’s full arm, the massive dragon lowered his head to provide Ehrun a clear view of the three of them.

“Now isn’t this a surprise,” the false king crooned as he slid from the beast’s back to stand at the top of the broken wall. He crouched, vicious red eyes glinting with amusement. “A joke, more like it. A traitor, a vampire, and a spy try to walk out of a castle…”

Madan grit his teeth. He was goading them into a response. A spy? Rather than bite and look to Sasja with the shock that poured through his system, he said, “The only joke I see is a man who still thinks he’s King.”

Ehrun, too, dodged the jab, though he bared his sharp teeth in annoyance. “Why so far from home?”

“At least I have a home.” Madan’s heart slammed against his ribcage like a drum so loud, he was shocked no one else could hear it. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, a little birdy sent a message to me that they saw a couple of dragons flit this way.” Ehrun’s attention shifted to Sasja. He held out a hand. “Come now, little birdy. Fly home with me.”

To Madan’s absolute horror, Sasja stepped forward. “I found what you asked.”

What the fuck was she hiding?

“Good girl.” Ehrun waggled his fingers. “I’m so sorry for leaving you in that place for so long, but I just knew it’d be worth it. Give me the potion.”

Without looking back, Sasja closed the distance between them. “I don’t have it.”

In an instant, hot rage flickered in Ehrun’s eyes. His hand dropped as he glared at her. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t have it?”

“I have something better.” Sasja cocked her head. “But we need to leave.”

“What is it?”

With Ehrun’s sole focus on her, Madan edged toward the banister. They could jump it and be to the dragons in a matter of seconds. Whether Sasja meant to distract Ehrun or not, he wouldn’t let those precious moments go to waste. She was giving them a chance to escape.

But what did she have? This was knowledge Madan didn’t want to let go.

Until Sasja looked back at them, eyed the railing with wide eyes, and then returned to Ehrun before he could take notice. “I know the recipe for liquid sunshine and where to find a mage willing to make it.”

Fuck .

Ehrun reached back down to her, a grin spreading across his face again. “Come, then.”

Neither Madan nor Whelan waited to see if she took his hand. They launched over the banister, landing in unison in the foyer, and sprinted to the door. A shout echoed behind them, and an ear-splitting roar from Sehrox had Madan ducking across the threshold, arms up to his head. Whelan slammed the door shut behind them as flames hit the far side, igniting the wood at their backs.

As one, Brutis and Oria spread their wings and began beating against the air. The two dragons above dove as Madan hurled himself up to his dragon’s back at the same moment Brutis took flight. Feet slipping against his bondheart’s scales, he hauled himself up before nearly sliding off the far side from Brutis banking hard.

“ That lying bitch .” Oria’s words washed through Madan as they twisted and turned into a narrow canyon.

At first, Madan agreed. She hadn’t told them she knew how to make liquid sunshine. But everything she had said and done didn’t add up. She hadn’t wanted to go with Ehrun. She hadn’t left them open for an attack. Only her words pointed to her eagerness to rejoin his ranks.

But it was Whelan who said, “ She saved us .”

And as they lost the pair of adversaries on their tails—likely called back by Ehrun, who wouldn’t risk his few cavalry in the chance they caught up—Madan couldn’t help but agree.