Page 73 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

T he next morning, Nida practices standing.

Hours later, she practices walking. Her leg still stings, but Cashmere says it will heal.

Cashmere really put in a lot of work with the stitches, and I’m unsure where he learned it.

But I don’t question him. I extend my thanks to Cashemere, but he shrugs and says he hopes I’ll return the favour—whenever that may be.

I know we can’t stay here forever, but Valous is surprisingly generous in letting us rest a while longer.

You owe me, he said. Nida doesn’t trust him.

I can’t say I do either. But for now, I’m fine with accepting his help as long as it keeps her alive.

After two nights, I decide it’s the perfect time to ask him if he knows something—anything about the Third. He’s a snitch after all.

“Whenever I conduct business such as this, I usually get something first,” Valous says, leaning against the doorframe after I proposed the idea of exchanging information. “Besides, you owe me that much. And more.”

“Name your price,” Nida blurts, determination in her voice. She’s looking better, but I try not to let her strain herself more. She’s been pacing and attempting to run. Luckily, her wound hasn’t opened up.

“Ah, not so fast, sweetheart. You’re with him , and he normally doesn’t come asking questions. Let alone ask for help. If you want anything more from me, he’ll have to share something first.” A wicked, confident smile grows on his face. “That’s the deal with information trade.”

“Are you kidding me?” Nida snaps.

“Not happening, Valous,” I hiss.

“You know what I want,” he drawls.

“I said not happening . I’m not telling you what happened at the Gate.

You weren’t there. Those that were know .

” I can’t believe he’s using this moment to extort me.

I owe him for helping me—for helping us.

But I’m not telling him anything. Ever. Not him, not anyone else.

Though he doesn’t seem too disappointed when I refuse.

It’s as if what he wants is something entirely different.

He sucks on his teeth, his smile fading to a stone-cold mask in an instant.

“Bitter,” he says, and in seconds the smile reappears. “Well then, trade declined, try again next time!” He shoves his hands in his pockets and leans a bit forward. “Oh! And don’t forget to pay for your nights and the extra treatment we’ve given you.”

Nida jumps, nearly giving me a heart attack.

Her stitches haven’t healed. I reach to grab her, but my fingers curl over thin air.

“Listen, you,” she says, pulling out a knife, inching toward him.

Did she steal that from the kitchens? I try to say her name, but I’m cut off.

“I’ll shove this through your throat if you don’t tell us everything you know. ”

Valous raises his hands, his gaze flicking between her, the knife, and her leg.

“Hm,” he clicks his tongue. “Threats double the price.”

“What?!”

“Now I’ll need something from you, too.” His smile grows larger.

“Alright, Valous.” I sigh. “I’ll talk.”

Nida turns to me. “ What? ”

“But not about the Gate,” I say, then my eyes flick to Nida. “And you need to sit down.”

She glares at me—as if she’s the one trying to protect me .

“Nida,” I say gently, and she slowly removes the knife from Valous’ throat and places it on the table.

He backs away two steps. I reach for her curls, now wilder than ever, tucking them behind her ear, flashing a smile for a second.

“I don’t know for how long I can take you standing on that leg without feeling like you’re about to collapse. Just sit.”

She nods, squeezing my hand, and I help her sit down. When I look back at Valous, his eyes flick between Nida and me, eyebrows raised. But he doesn’t question.

“Have you seen a dragon other than a Redsnout?” I ask, eyes burning into him.

He blinks a few times, then scoffs. “Uh, yeah? First year, second year.”

“During your time here .”

He pauses. “No? What are you—”

“There’s more than one dragon,” I say. “And there could be far more. Hundreds.”

He goes still—eyes wide—blinking like he’s trying to understand my words. I take a step forward.

“And the dragons are hunting us.”

His mouth falls open, but no sound comes out for a long moment.

Then he blurts out. “ What ?”

Valous raises a crystal glass of amber liquor to his lips with shaky hands. “So let me summarize this,” he says, taking a sip. “There’s more than one dragon. The general is lying and… you’re dying. ”

“That’s right.”

He stares at me for a moment, unblinking. Then his eyes stray to the glass. “And you were in a cave, hiding from Grogol, and her leg got grazed by a dragon,” he says, pointing at Nida.

I nod. I haven’t told him about the dragon’s voice in my head.

I tried to find ways to tell him, but if it sounded insane in my head, it would probably sound worse if I opened my mouth.

Still, I don’t know whether that voice was actually the dragon talking, or the venom taking over. My guess is the latter.

“I’ll need more of this.” He sighs and twirls his drink in a crystal glass, then swallows it in one gulp. “So, what do you need me for?”

“Tell me anything you can,” I say.

He scoffs. “Tell you anything? I’m surprised you even want to know something from me when you have a whole castle-worth scoop.”

“Maybe there’s something you know that can make sense out of all this.”

Valous’s eyes flick to Nida, then back to me.

“Alright, there might be something,” he says.

He pours another glass from the decanter beside him and downs the whole thing.

“A while back, I had some… business at the tavern. Cashmere snitched a bit and informed me that an outsider was willing to make a trade with information from the other Holds—in exchange for a safe stay here in the tavern. I figured this was a great way to gain outside information. The price on that…” He clicks his tongue.

“But the guy never showed up. I was getting ready to leave when I noticed something… Two men walked in, one cloaked, the other not. I thought that was my guy, but quickly I realized it wasn’t. ”

“What about him?” I ask.

“The cloaked guy started preaching about The Mountain. The Mother. The way he preached was unlike anything I have seen before.” His eyes dart to the sides again.

An Acolyte . Something about that day is bothering him—something that even the guy from the shadows can’t shake. And I have to know what it is.

“What do you mean by that? How come?” I ask, and his eyes are back to mine before they shift to Nida, quickly looking her up and down.

“The uncloaked guy, never seen him before, and from what I could tell, he was an apprentice. But the other guy,” he pauses. “Even if I didn’t see his face, he seemed familiar.”

“Familiar how?” My patience is running low.

“In the way he walked,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“The way he moved .” His eyebrows furrow.

A sudden nervousness clouds him—he pulls out a coin from his pocket and starts fiddling with it, tapping it against the table.

He twirls it from one finger to the next, but drops it.

The sharp clink of metal against wood chimes in the quiet.

“How did he move?” I hiss through my teeth, my patience running thin. Valous lifts his chin—and the coin, studying it again.

“With absolute silence. Calculated steps. Spine straight. There’s only one place that teaches you to walk like that. And only years of experience make it look so effortless.”

He can’t be serious. Was the man—

“A commandant,” he says, and I hold my breath.

“And the other?” I ask quickly.

“Some new kid or something, thinking he was doing his due diligence, but clearly had no idea what he got himself into. Cashmere snooped around to only come across a single name.”

I watch his every move—closely—when a slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“The name,” I dare to say. But now his white, pearly teeth flash through a wide, malevolent grin.

I never realized the Acolytes had infiltrated the Corps so deeply—that even our highest-ranking officers were recruiting soldiers for a purpose far from what we’d been told.

It was never about killing dragons. Never about humanity’s survival.

It was about ensuring the legacy of the Mother lived on. He straightens and clears his throat.

“I almost forgot the name until recently,” he says, darting his eyes toward Nida once more and clicking his tongue.

My heart rate increases. I furrow my brow, clenching and flexing with an empty hand, signaling my impatience. “The name, Valous,” I growl. He looks at me with slight doubt before he finally speaks.

“Ward.”

My eyes widen, and I look at Nida, who gasps at the name—sorrow filling her eyes.

“Now, before there’s any tension,” Valous says, “I’m pretty sure the apprentice was male .”

“Joseph,” she whispers with a cracking voice.

She tries to swallow the name. Once. Twice.

But each attempt only makes it harder for her to accept the name.

The weight of it presses behind her eyes, and she blinks hard, as if that might shake it loose.

Questions linger in the air. Why would anyone from the Front mingle with Acolytes?

Why would the Corps even focus on something opposite to what we are taught?

Acolytes worship The Mother and are indifferent to dragons.

How did Joseph get involved? And who out of all the commandants was here that night?