The dragon’s tail lashes, sending a few medium-sized stones spinning across the ground and over the edge.
“Fine. I concede. Youwouldmake the work quicker,” I confess, voice hoarse. “But if you fly over their spires, they’ll see you long before we’re ready. They’ll know. And we lose her.”
She huffs, smoke curling from her nostrils. I feel the heat lick my skin, a warning and a promise.
I lean my forehead against her scales, closing my eyes. “You’ll hear her laugh again. I swear it. I’ll bring her back to you. To us.”
The Fuegorra stirs violently. It calls louder than I have ever heard it. Seeking. Ever seeking.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. My knees buckle, and I grip asaddle strap to keep from falling. Not a vision, but something like an echo. Not words, not images. Just pressure, a sensation of being trapped, of air being stolen from lungs that aren’t mine.
My heart kicks harder. The echo vanishes.
“She’s alive,” I whisper, clenching my jaw. “Alive, and suffering.” I can’t help but think of everything I know about the elves. I don’t know what Arion could be doing to her right now, but I know it feels awful. I just…gods. I let her go with those beasts. I should’ve tried harder.
I walk to one of the rock outcroppings and lean against it, pressing my forehead into the stone to steady my breath. I miss the caves. I miss her. I hate the open landscape.
Seraph growls again. Louder, deep and furious, until the sound vibrates in my bones.
“I’ll end our suffering,” I promise. “But I need time.”
I step back, forcing my legs to steady. The dragon lowers herself, folding her wings close against her sides. I point to the cavern mouth for what feels like the hundredth time. “Stay here.Wait for me.”
My head returns to the plan that has been brewing and bubbling over the long, silent hours riding. Get into the city. Find a way into the palace, get close to Arlet, plant the seed for Mrath, then take my mate, and light a signal so the beast can bring us home. “When you see fire on the ramparts, come.”
She doesn’t move. Just stares, unblinking, her tail curling tight.
“Please,” I add. The word feels foreign in my mouth. “I know we still don’t know each other well, but I need your trust.”
At last, she lowers her head, settling into the cavern’s shadows. Her scales dim in the low light, gold turning to bronze, bronze to darkness.
I turn away before I can doubt myself. The mountains loom ahead, jagged and unwelcoming. Somewhere beyond them lie the elven forests, their spires protruding from ancient trees. And within those spires…her.
Every step I take away from the dragon feels heavier. My lungs burn with each breath, and my heart is pounding too fast, toouneven. My body isn’t ready for this, but I don’t care. I wasn’t meant to live half dead, wasn’t meant to let her go.
I press my hand against my sternum, over the stone that is relearning how to communicate with me. Arlet is far too distant to hear my thoughts. But one day…she should hear them. She should speak to me through her mind, as mates do.
“I’m coming,” I say, the words scraping my throat raw.
The mountains don’t answer. But I feel the vow settle like iron in my bones, heavier than my cleaver, heavier than the firestorm in my chest. Endu’s familiar touch seals my words.
And I forge on.
Chapter 15
ARLET
And…suddenly, my life is reduced to the space between now and the wedding. Two weeks. A short eternity spent in this infernal palace, in a room where I was nearly killed.
With Thorne promising to help me and asking me to trust him, I am left with few options. But I cling to what he said.
If you die, I die.
After the dinner last night, it was incredibly hard for me to sleep. Inky blackness slowly gave way to the brilliance of dawn, and I am still looking outside, sitting at the windowsill. I watch, only dressed in a chemise and wrapped in a thick, stuffed blanket. The gown I wore hours before is neatly hung in the dressing corner of the room.
There is an abundance of early-morning workers who begin before the sun rises, tending to the gardens, straightening the pathways, and hurrying back and forth with armfuls of goods. Sometimes I make out vegetables or platters of arranged food; other times, I find it difficult to understand exactly what I’m looking at.
All of them, thankfully, are elves.