I cringed, swallowing down my strangled gasp—not that it would be heard over the pitiful sounds from those still clinging to life.
Vetr moved on, finishing off the others. It was merciful, and I didn’t know if he did it for me or them, but I was thankful. Their suffering had come to an end whatever the case.
I moved forward, following Harald, who looked at me strangely and then cast a wary glance about as though there might be someone watching us even now. “I don’t expect the ones who put them up there wanted us to do that.”
“Should we care what the monsters who did thatwant?” I demanded. As far as I was concerned, only the dregs of humanity could do such a thing. The lowest of the low. The absolutely soulless. My skin prickled, the smolder gathering at the back of my throat like a building storm. “I hope they are watching! Let them see!” I boldly flung out, longing to give them a taste of my fire.
“You little fool! Youshouldcare,” Vetr growled as he came alongside me, blasting me with a look of censure as he cleaned off his sword, his movements hard and angry. Clearly he resented being compelled to use it in the first place—resentedme. A colossal failure as a dragon. Too dense, too slow, too weak. “We are here to observe and learn what they think and how they behave so that we may know them—so that we will never be caught unawares and subject to another Threshing. We are not here to attract the attention of the current regime. What they do to each other is none of our concern.” His words lashed out, striking me like the whips that had once flayed my skin.
And yet he had acted. He’d stepped forward and done the merciful thing.
I stared at Vetr in challenge. “Then why end their suffering?”
Harald looked at him pointedly, as though he, too, shared this question.
“Enough. Let us leave this grisly scene.” His nostrils twitched. “The stink of human blood offends me.”
Vetr nudged his mount ahead of us, entering the town. I studied the back of him, wondering if he was truly so heartless.
Catching up with him, I sent him a sideways glance, scarcely sparing a look for the seaside town emerging before us. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Who else?” He shrugged. “Humans.”
Humans.Said with a mixture of contempt and derision. He really hated us—them. Them. Someday I wouldn’t have to correct myself. Someday I would feelmoredragon andlesshuman. It was already happening. Each day I spent in the Crags, in the pride, was another day, another piece of the old me gone, chipped away, making way for the new.
To Vetr, humans were all alike. He didn’t differentiate between residents of the Borderlands and those who lived in the south. He likely didn’t even know the difference. He did not care enough to know.
The most prosperous Penterrans lived in the south with its bustling cities, with schools and libraries, culture and society, where the palace sprawled with all its white, sun-washed towers glinting in the daylight.Home.Or what used to be my home. Barbarians lived in the north, the roughest, wildest part of the country.
No human was alike, but to him a human was a human. All the same. All bad. And that, right there, was what made him a dragon—more than his wings and scaled flesh. It was his inability to see a human as anything else … as anything good.
“From what I’ve observed, brutality isn’t a trait exclusive to humans. You fight with …others.” I hesitated to speak the word aloud. I would not put a name to what we were. It felt too risky to say it out loud here. “You’re not above discord with your own kind.”
“You defend them?” His expression tightened with disdain.
I swallowed. That was a misstep. Anything construed as accord with humankind was not accepted.
“I only speak of what I see. There are two sides to everything.”
“Said like a true diplomat.”
“Maybe I am.” I tossed the words down boldly, taking a risk to add, “Maybe that is what I can offer. A bridge between two worlds.” He stared at me for a long moment, his nostrils flaring with a huff of breath. I knew it was more than he wanted of me—more than he was asking.
He wanted my insights. He brought me here because I’d lived as a human in this world, and he thought I might be good at ferreting out information about the enemy. He did not want me to be some manner of ambassador between our two worlds.
“I don’t want a bridge,” he finally said, his gaze flicking over my face, taking me in all at once. “I want a wall between us andthem. Your job,” he said, jabbing a finger at me, “just so we’re clear, is togive me the bricks to build this wall. Nothing gets in the way of that. Nothing gets in the way of protecting the pride. Understand?”
I nodded jerkily even as every bit of me rebelled at his words, at his commanding tone. Why did the safety of one eliminate the other? Why must it be humankindordragonkind?
Why could both not simply …be?
I wanted to tell him no.Noto helping him build his wall.Noto him telling me what to do as though I was subject to him.Noto informing on the world that still held people I cared about—just a few, but enough to make me hesitate to do anything that might harm them.
No. No. No.
I was no longer a whipping girl to be led about and controlled by anyone. Not anymore.
I held my tongue, though. The wisest thing sometimes was to say nothing at all.
