But nottheirtime.
They had found a way to go on. A way to survive.
A sudden peace filled her. She felt lighter, buoyant, almost as though she were floating above herself while her gaze searched,moving over the avid faces of the warriors who all looked the same with their wild, darting eyes and hands flexing hungrily over the hilts of their weapons.
Her attention finally found what she sought—her child. She held his bewildered gaze, willing him not to be afraid. She tried to convey strength, the assurance that all would be well.Hewould be well.
Even without her, he would thrive and grow strong.
The peace spread, sinking through her, finding every crevice, settling into every hollow, every empty and aching spot.
He would be her last sight, the vision she would take with her. That filled her with contentment, even if he did have to witness her slaughter. Hopefully time would be kind and erase the memory from him, wash it away like cleansing rain. He was young. This would be forgotten.Shewould be forgotten.
A balm that stung as it healed.
She exhaled a deep rattle of air.
Her boy fixed his frosty gaze on her, his lips moving with unformed words.
Her eyes rolled, glancing up to the old warrior sitting atop her. She was no more than a mindless beast to him. Nothing with a heart, with love or dreams or a deeper consciousness. She could not see him fully, but she caught a flash of his axe, the glint of it on the murky air as he held it high overhead.
This was it.
She willed her attention back to her son. She was moments from the end, and she felt no fear. No regret. No wishing she had lived differently. There was that at least. A blessing.
Her only thoughts were for …them. Not herself. Not her own life.
For her boys.
Her gaze dragged from the one, seeking … the other. He was never too far. She needed one more glimpse of them both.
There. She spotted him. Her little climber. Vetr. High in the wall of her den, on a ledge that led into another chamber that hewas fond of exploring. He was her adventurer, her wild one, more daring than his twin, who preferred to stay close to her side.
But there he was, hiding, tucked out of sight, wide eyes locked on her intently.
She looked back and forth between the two of them, these boys, these dragonlings that were and weren’t dragon. Whatever they were or weren’t, they werehers. Forever.
She ignored everything else. Ignored these wretched warriors.
Ignored her imminent death. None of that mattered.
As the axe came down in a whoosh toward her neck, she looked her fill, letting her love for them consume her, blind her to everything else, imprint on her … on whatever she was to become.They will survive. They will go on.
It was the last thought to go through her mind before her head was severed from her body.
1
TAMSYN
One year in the Crags …
THE BLOW CAUGHT ME IN THE TEMPLE.
The force of it radiated through my head, threatening to drop me to my knees. Abuse was not unusual for me. And yet my life as a whipping girl had not prepared me for this last year—for the grueling, endless cycle of pain and blood and loss and loneliness.
My teeth snapped down, sinking into my tongue. Copper flooded my mouth, the taste washing over my teeth and tongue. Turning my head, I spit out a mouthful of blood, the glistening substance landing in the dirt. The sight of it did not faze me. Not anymore. Except it was purple. Damn my blood. Maybe no one else noticed. I could only hope.
A ringing filled my ears as I fought to keep my balance. The moment I went down, they would be on me like a pack of wolves, and it would all be over.
