“Sofia,” Fox’s voice was soft, and Harlow’s dagger twitched against his neck. “Please.”
She met his eyes and saw everything she was feeling reflected in those silver depths. He was begging her. She could already see the tears forming, and she felt like her heart was tearing from her chest. He couldn’t ask this of her.
“Drop your weapons and surrender,” Harlow said, voice cold. “I’d promise mercy, but you already ruined that once. But I’ll make your deaths less painful.”
Above them, Chalia howled, and Sofia saw the claw marks across her chest as Eha circled her.
She wanted to reach out to her—wanted the reassurance—but she couldn’t distract her. And she didn’t need reassurance in the end. She knew what she needed to do.
The weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she was sinking under it. For an instant, she felt as if the earth itself might swallow her up under the pressure of it all. If she surrendered, everyone was dead. Harlow would burn down the resistance and paint the forest in blood. Some dragons might escape, but they’d be running again, just to keep their free will.
She didn’t want to make the choice. She didn’t want to hold everything.
“My captor,” Fox said, his voice breaking through the turmoil in her mind, and she looked up. He was speaking only to her. Harlow and the others soldiers, all the screaming and the blood, fell away. He knew what decision she would have to make.
“It’s not your decision,” he said, as if he could read her mind—or perhaps just the agony written across her face. “My life, my captor.”
The tears that had been burning against her eyelids fell, trailing through the mud and blood that painted her cheeks. His pulse fluttered,helpless against the cold steel on his neck, and she watched it, memorizing the cadence of his heart. One last time.
I love you.She mouthed the words, throat too dry.
She looked back at Harlow, at the way his lips twisted, and his eyes shone with satisfaction. He saw her tears, and he thought them a sign of weakness. He thought he had broken her.
But her grief and rage and love had never been weaknesses. They’d been her strength.
She felt her blood humming with power—with magic. She felt it in her fingertips. It sparked across the tether that connected her mind to Chalia’s, but it wasn’t just a part of the dragon. The magic was a part of her now, as well.
Sofia screamed, the sound of it echoing through the forest. The air crackled, and the sky rumbled as Chalia’s roar joined the sound. Power sizzled through Sofia’s blood, and the world lit up in a fiery blaze, white and blinding. Fire cracked down from the sky in a bolt, splitting the air where Harlow stood. The ground exploded.
The last thing she saw on his face was dawning realization and terror as his smug smile fell.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
SOFIA
When the light faded back to the red hue of sunset, Harlow’s figure was crumpled where he’d stood. The two soldiers who’d attacked Fox were down, too, taken by the blast. Sofia took a few numb steps toward Harlow, needing to see for herself. His skin was stained with red roots and charred black in places. His eyes hung open, staring wide up at the sky. It had begun to snow, and Sofia watched, entranced as large flakes landed delicately against Harlow’s face and exposed skin. Above her, Eha let out a roar, Chalia, Aurelia, and the other free dragons adding their voices until the ground shook with their call.
“Fox!”
Sofia turned to see Fox’s mother running across the field, and she saw Fox’s crumpled body lying in the muddy snow. The blast had thrown him a few yards away. She moved slowly at first, hesitant to see, but then she was running, falling down beside him. He was facedown in the mud, his hair loose and stained with blood and mud. Fox’s mother was there a moment later, helping her turn him over gently.
He had the same pattern of red roots spreading out from his shoulder, and a deep cut bled sluggishly along his neck. His eyes were closed, and he might have been sleeping.
“Fox,” Sofia said, voice cracking as she brought her hand to his cheek. It was cold, but so was her own skin. She tried to reach for his neck, attempting to find a pulse, but she was shaking, her breathing coming in short bursts, wheezing from her chest.
“Sofia,” Javi was behind her, pulling her back gently. She fought for only a minute before realizing he was simply trying to wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Sof, I’m so sorry.”
“I need to check—he might be breathing. Is he breathing?” The words fell from her lips in a jumble, and she wasn’t even sure they had heard her or understood her. But Fox’s mother was moving her hands over his body, leaning over to feel a pulse. Sofia saw the way her face shattered.
No.
No. No, no.
She screamed, this time one full of agony as her world fractured.
He couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t lose him. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to die.
She had decided to keep fighting and keep pushing so that they could have a future. She had finally promised herself a future.