I’m not at all sure it’ll work, and I’m worried even if it does, it’ll be slow, but it’s not. It’s immediate. The sword hilts, clutched in my hands, light up with golden light. Then my entire body starts to glow like a torch, and finally, the power explodes outward, flashing across the space between me and the gathered earth blessed. As the light drenches them, they begin to swell and grow. The small brown lizard-snake looking one expands, her feet more than double their former size, her scales darkening and becoming much more shiny, almost like polished mahogany. Dark, striking wings unfurl from her back. All around me, something similar happens to the earth dragons, most of them growling, shouting, or grunting as it does.
But the large green dragon who asked me how I decided as well as one other, a light, tannish brown one, both stay exactly as they were.
“It didn’t work for all of them,” I say, a little disappointed. “I wonder why.”
They didn’t want to fight, Azar says. They were both thinking they didn’t want to defend the earth children at peril of their own lives. He smiles. It appears Jörð can sense their hearts.
From all sides, dragons begin to pop into view. Brown dragons, green dragons, goldish green ones, and even some so dark they’re nearly black wing their way toward us, and I realize that while Jörð found some of them unworthy of her gift, it appears she offered it to nearly all the others.
I turn to face Thunar. “I’ve done it. Now you’ll help us fight the vanir.”
Your humans would still owe me quite a few brights, he says. But yes, you appear to be all-around much more useful than Gullveig, Elizabeth Chadwick. I’m beginning to see why my pitiful brother clings to you so dearly.
Azar’s become smarter. Even though I feel a surge of red along the bond at his brother’s jab, not a thing shows on Azar’s body or face. It’s time to go.
You work out the deal with them for the brights. I’ll stay here, because I don’t care about anything else.
I’m not going to lie and say I’m disappointed Thunar won’t be joining us. I’m nervous enough about the prospect of facing my parents and Gideon without wanting to add a monstrous bully questioning our every word and step. It would be nice to have a little extra fire power when we step through the portal to Sydney, Australia. Because even though I know Gideon and my parents well, the last time I saw my father, I was being held in a tiny cell in Iceland. The last time I saw Gideon and my mother, they were actively trying to capture me and kill Azar. They succeeded in almost killing Hyperion by using my very own swords against him.
The trust between us isn’t strong.
Calling it razor thin might be a stretch.
So if I’m wearing my full regalia—golden and red dragonskin suit, swords holstered in a fancy scabbard, and my swirly golden visor—well, they caused me to need such a display. I’m a little impressed that Sammy, Coral, and Jade manage to find such impressive outfits on such short notice.
I believe George found them. Azar seems less nervous than me, but then again, he either wasn’t there for most of my family’s betrayals, or he doesn’t remember the experience himself.
It’s personal for me.
And therefore, it’s personal for me, too. Tell me who to eviscerate and how slowly, and I’ll gladly do it.
Massive diamonds are overrated. Girls should be looking for a guy willing to eviscerate their ex.
Girls like diamonds? Aren’t those just rocks? We’re currently circling very slowly from a great height. It was Hyperion’s idea to portal far, far above Sydney so we could all descend on them slowly, making sure they see who’s got the power in this situation. The Americans who traveled here set up camp outside of town, and they’re easy to find, with their military-issue tents. I don’t have happy memories of those tents, but I’m assuming these aren’t full of tortured dragons.
What I didn’t expect was the row upon row of humans.
I assume they’re soldiers at first, and I have a flashback to the time I landed, spoke to Gideon, and he betrayed me, using my death to kill Azar too. But as we draw closer, I realize the people standing in lines aren’t soldiers. They’re women. They’re men. They’re young and old. They’re bald, red-headed, thin, fat, and everything in between.
“Who are all those people?” I ask as we land in front of Gideon—wearing a very decorated military uniform—and my mom and dad who are both dressed in suits. My mom in a suit would be hilarious in any other circumstances, like a pig wearing lipstick, or a lion with a necktie. But in this moment, I have other things to gawk at that are more demanding.
“We brought them as a show of goodwill,” Gideon says. “They’ve all opted in to bonding a dragon, and they’re all here of their own volition. Ten thousand and forty-eight brights, or at least, the dragons seem to believe they are. . .” He swallows, clearly uncomfortable.
The dragons they held and tortured must’ve told them they were bright. How lovely. “Well, that’s another demand to add to our list. You must release all prisoners of war with a formal apology and some kind of restitution.”
“Of course.” Gideon grimaces.
“I want to be clear,” I say. “You’re here, offering to pay us with ten thousand human lives, for our willingness to protect your northern border? Is that how the United States does things, now?”
Mother steps in front of him, shaking her head. “Not at all. No, these humans all volunteered. They’re not payment. We’re trying to help our allies solve a problem so that they’re better able to help us.”
“Tomayto, tomahto,” I say. “What else are you offering?”
“An entire state,” Gideon says. “You can live anywhere you’d like in Montana.”
“Minnesota was also an option,” Mom says. “Northern states seemed wise, given the location of the vanir.”
It’s strategic. They offer us land, so we settle closer, and we can better fight off the enemies the humans are unable to defeat. “Smart.” I sigh. “Dad, what else?”
