Page 43 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

I turn away from the dragon’s snout, grim as I face off with Sheelan.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, weeping again herself. She’s equal parts stunned and reverent, both little hands pressed to her chest while she looks up at the massive, silent creature who has breathed her last.

“We need to find her egg.” I’m already marching down the length of the golden behemoth, choosing to distance myself as best I can mentally from the fact that she used to be alive, so recently, too, enough to save us, giving the last of her to help us escape. Magical, powerful, dead.

I can do nothing but choose to fulfill the last request she made of me.

“It’s here somewhere.” The chamber where she lies stretches back into more darkness, though when I reach her hind leg, I feel a faint breeze and look out over a gap, faintly lit from above.

It seems there are breaks in the roof to the sky overhead, though it’s growing darker outside and will soon be impossible to see.

I’m not looking forward to spending the night with a dead dragon as a companion, but we’re not going to have much choice.

“There’s a way down, look.” Sheelan followed me and points at a rough path that circles the cave, descending into the gloom. I set out, waiting for her at the last moment, noting how steep the walk is.

“Stay here,” I say.

“Not for anything,” Sheelan says, staring me down. “I’ll manage. I’m not leaving you alone, Remi.”

“You’re safer here.” From what, though? She seems to know it, too, brushing past me and carrying on like I hadn’t just tried to protect her, the stubborn little fool.

“Are you coming or not?” She’s already ahead of me, and while she’s clearly in pain as she walks, she’s unrelenting.

Fine. I go after her, careful not to slip, the path wide enough for one only and open to the cave on the other side. I see her slow at one point, grasping the wall as the way narrows, but when I try to support her, she bats at my hands.

“I’m all right,” she says with a gasping inhale. “Let me do it. Please.” She looks back at me, thick lashes wet with tears. “I’ve never done anything for myself. If I’m going to stand with you, with them,” she touches her heart, “I have to learn.”

She’s not wrong, though I long to wrap her up in my arms and make sure she’s safe. It’s an odd feeling. I don’t have it for Atlas, not the same way, nor for Zenthris. Is it sexist of me to think of them differently? Or is it simply that she’s so small, so vulnerable, so untried?

We’re in this together now, that much is true. And I have yet to sink into the fact that she’s chosen me—chosen us—in the midst of the worst tragedy of her life since her mother died.

The bottom comes at us fast, Sheelan sliding the rest of the way when she stumbles over a rock and her feet slip. But she doesn’t fall, and I don’t catch her, jaw on fire from clenching to prevent myself from lunging after her. When she touches down, she’s breathless and even smiling a little.

“I actually did it,” she says, hugging me abruptly. When she pulls away, she’s trembling. “That was terrifying, and I’m going to throw up now.”

I laugh, I can’t help it, and hold her hair as she does just that.

She’s quick and efficient about it, probably because neither of us has had anything but water from a stream we found since the ill-fated dinner that allowed us this journey. Which reminds me that I’m going to have to find us both something to eat before long.

When she’s done, she wipes at her mouth, visibly wilting. “Maybe you could carry me a little further.”

I swing her up onto my back again, setting out across the floor of the cave.

We’ve lost the majority of daylight, twilight’s last blue tones turning shadows to pools of darkness.

Something lighter than the stone floor of the cave litters the ground at my feet, crunching under my soles, and I pause to squat and let Sheelan examine the piece I retrieve.

“Remi,” she gasps, holding it out in front of my eyes, her chin on my shoulder. “This is a shell fragment!”

We’re walking on the remains of eggshells. That has my breath catching, my chest tightening. I set Sheelan down, looking around, a hard, desperate little knot refusing to allow me to inhale deeply.

“I don’t see an intact egg,” she says, then tosses her hands. “It’s too dark.”

Flame . I know that voice and look up. Wait, is she alive after all? She is a dragon. Perhaps I misread her stillness in my lack of knowledge?

But no. I might not know dragons, but I do know death. Besides, that voice isn’t coming from up. And wait, it’s not the same, not at all.

I’m here .

“Aurous?” I call out to her, leaving Sheelan behind as I take a stride forward, toward where she feels . That’s the only way I can describe the tug of her voice.

This way .

I follow, stumbling in the dark, that agony of failure now turned to hope. “Where are you?”

I… don’t know , she says, far more curious than concerned. Mother asked me to wait for you .

Your mother . I don’t finish that, not with words, but with the image of the dragon above. I wish I didn’t think it, want to shield this new voice from my failure, but she’s not sad when she replies.

Her time was done , she says. It’s why she woke me. You’re close, Flame. Not much further now. Yes, this way .

I can feel her tugging me onward, and realize it’s like the sizzle of the kinspark, this touch of hers, and growing stronger by the moment.

Kinspark, yes , she says. Can she read my thoughts without me forming them? Yes, I think so , she answers. Here, that opening, that’s the one you need .

I stumble to a halt when I trip and almost fall over something in the dark. “I can’t see,” I say out loud, the faint wail in the back of my voice making it tremble. So not like me, but neither is this despair that chokes out hope with its desperation.

Ah, my apologies , she says. Does this help?

A glow appears ahead, soft and golden, the path made clear, a small opening so close I was almost upon it before I stopped. I surge forward, plunging through to the chamber beyond.

The egg is the source of the glow, golden, beautiful, and all I can see now. I stop, stare and am instantly reminded of the globe I helped Zenthris steal from the merchant’s house, the undulation of something inside it mesmerizing.

You’re here . She sounds delighted. It’s finally time .

I’m about to ask her for what, when the egg rocks.

Someone gasps from behind me, and only then do I realize Sheelan followed. Of course, she did, but I’m lost in the moment, in the presence of the egg and who lies inside it, so lost that I’ve forgotten I’m not alone.

You’re never alone, Flame , she says as the egg cracks, a single, perfect line down the center. Don’t you remember?

I’m weeping when the two halves of the shell part and fall away.

The glow continues, but she’s the one who’s glowing, not the shell that surrounded her, and for a moment she’s a gorgeous hatchling, an exact replica in miniature of her mother, wings wrapped around her, eyes blinking open, as amber as mine.

Remalla , she says. This won’t do at all, will it?

And then she just… shifts. Stands up on two legs, pale skin flawless, hair hanging to her feet, curling and as shining as her egg, though her eyes are still those of a dragon, slits narrow and black.

But even they round out, soften, and instead of a newborn dragon child, I stare in shock at a tall, graceful and stunningly beautiful woman standing amid the two halves of broken shell.

Except, she’s not a woman. Not even close.

She stretches, arms out and up over her head, turning on the ball of her foot, yawning widely before she lowers them again and laughs. Then claps both hands over her mouth, eyes huge, beaming a smile when she settles her hands to her chest.

“That felt nice,” she says in the exact voice I just heard in my head, only out loud now, clear and lovely. “Flame,” she says then. “Remi?” She tilts her head, cascade of golden curls tumbling when she does. “Remi,” she nods, then holds her hands out to me. “Aurous.”

It was never the dragon I was meant to come here for. It was this shining light.

“Holy fuck.” I mean, what else is there to say?

***