I WAITED LONGinto the night, ignored in the increasing cold, forgotten, the world holding its breath, swathed in silence.
Pressed against the tree, my legs trembled as I was forced to stand. My broken body pulsed in pain, throbbing like a pumping heart, my hair sticking to my blood-caked back, fusing into the raw pulp of me.
The only thing that touched this agony, the only thing as sharp and crushing and devouring, was losing Fell. That surpassed this, stealing my wind and knocking me off my feet. I’d survived that, though. After a time, I had clawed my way back onto my feet.
I would survive this, too.
It was late. Closer to dawn. In a few hours, soldiers would be up and moving about. I had to be gone before that happened.
I couldn’t remain pinned to this tree. Stig would be back to finish me, angrier than before because of Alise. He would blame me for what happened to her. No way would he take responsibility.
Whimpering in frustration, I struggled against my bindings, even as I knew it was futile. Dragon bonds could not be broken.
I heaved a defeated breath, my mind working feverishly, my desperation and the need to escape distracting me from the pain. There was that at least. Once I got away from here, I could crawl into a hole and revel in my pain. Die maybe. Probably.
If that was what happened, so be it. I couldn’t remain here,en-dangering all of dragonkind. Kerstin. Brenna. Harald. Arran. All the others. Everyone. Even Vetr. They did not deserve to be slaughtered because I had failed. I couldn’t let Stig win. I couldn’t let that darkness in him take us all down.
I blew out another sweltering breath, and the scent of smoking wood filled my nose as it had earlier when my body became too hot against the tree. The memory of that sank its teeth into me, and I felt the tug of a bitterly hopeful idea.
Could I do it? Could I actually burn the tree down and slip away undetected?
Angling my head, I glanced around at the sleeping camp. There were guards on duty, but they stood at the far perimeters. Most of the campfires were banked for the night. Gentle snores wafted on the air from the sea of tents.
I pulled my head back as far as I could, staring at the tree, inches from my face, until my eyes threatened to cross.
Opening my mouth, I carefully, tentatively blew, gradually increasing the heat, letting my breath turn into a very controlled, very thin rivulet of flame.
The brown bark of the tree darkened, blackening slowly from the intense heat. The blackness spread, eating the tree, turning the wood red … then an orangey yellow, then violet where it was hottest.
I did this in increments, blackening one spot, then targeting another area with my hiss of flame, letting the tree catch fire and burn at a steady pace.
Soon, I stood trapped, a prisoner against a blazing, crackling vertical log. My clothes singed right off me, leaving my body coated in black ash.
I glanced around wildly, making certain no soldiers appeared, roused by the snapping and popping tree or the smell of fire. Fortunately, the odor of burning wood in a camp was not anything of note.
The flames climbed up the tree. They writhed their way toward the branches and leaves, devouring the wood like a hungry beast. Iused my weight, pulling and tugging at the tree until it was weak enough, scorched enough, that it crumbled and toppled over in a spray of blistered chunks and red-hot particles.
My wrists were still fastened together, but I was free. I shook loose remnants of the charred tree. I froze, glancing around to see if anyone noted the slight sound. Nothing—no one—stirred. With my hands bound in front of me, I turned and fled, running through the camp and not slowing until I reached the perimeter. There I stopped and listened, panting hard, scanning left and right for the sight of guards.
I spotted one and dropped to the ground—just in time, a moment before he turned. Pressing into the cold dirt, I waited, watching him across the distance.
Finally, he turned with a yawn and strolled in the opposite direction. I seized the opportunity, pushing to my feet and fleeing down the hill in a mad dash, silently pleading that none of the guards spotted me. I plunged ahead, my legs lifting, the repeated motion jarring, sending bolts of agony through my body, but I did not stop until I reached the cover of trees.
Once tucked in the shelter of the tree line, I paused, shaking, swaying on my feet, so ready to drop. But not here. Not yet.
I looked back up at the hill where the camp slept, where my sister remained, suffering her own wounds. Hopefully the physician would help her with the pain. The rest of her agony, her bleak future as Stig’s wife, I could do nothing about.
Emotion rose hot in my chest, choking me as I realized, if I survived this, I would never see her again. To see her again would mean my death. It would mean I had been recaptured, and the next time escape would not be possible. Stig would make sure of that.
I lifted my hands to my mouth. Using my teeth, I tried to pull free the knots, but I could not loosen them even a little. No use. With a defeated huff, I lowered my hands.
Gulping a breath, I pushed on, lifting legs that felt like lead, oneafter the other. The sun would be up soon, and there would be an entire regiment after me.
I had to get away.
My eyes adjusted to the stygian night air, and I narrowly avoided colliding into any trees as I jogged like I was intoxicated, a drunkard trying to stay on her feet. With my hands locked together, it was disorienting and difficult to balance.
My entire body was one throbbing, gaping wound. Eventually the energy that had driven my escape ebbed. Every fire found its end, I supposed. Burned out and whittled to nothing. I was that. Just a dying fire. Embers in the wind.
