She stares at me for a moment. “Oh. Yes. Right.” Then her hands move to her jacket zipper.
I turn away. Not modesty, just practicality. I need to focus on the shift, on the slate-steel energy that should be coiling through my bones like molten fire.
Except as I peel off layers, as mountain air hits bare skin, I’m aware of the soft rustle of fabric behind me. The quiet catch in Ember’s breathing.
“This part doesn’t make the training manuals.” Her voice wavers between humor and nerves.
“Some things are better learned in the field.” I step out of my boots, shed the last of my clothing until I’m standing naked in the darkness. Cold bites, but I ignore it. My dragon’s already stirring, eager for sky.
Behind me, silence. Then another rustle.
I close my eyes and reach for the shift.
It should be instinct, muscle memory written into every cell. I breathe deep, centering myself the way I always do. Silvery light flickers at the edge of consciousness. The dragon inside uncoils, stretching toward freedom, and I feel the first electric tingle as scales begin to—
Nothing.
The light gutters like a candle in a hurricane. My dragon slams against an invisible wall and recoils, confused and furious. I gasp, stumbling forward as the world spins.
“Luke!” Ember’s hand on my shoulder, bare skin against bare skin, shocking in its heat. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t—” The words scrape out. “I can’t shift.”
I force my eyes open, turn. She’s standing a foot away, and even in dim starlight I can see confusion blazing across her face.
“What do you mean you can’t shift?”
“Exactly what I said.” I sway, clenching my fists to steady myself. I’m shaking. Not from cold. From rage. “Something’s blocking it. Like hitting a wall.”
Her face goes pale. “Can they do that? The Syndicate?”
“Someone can.” I force myself to straighten, breathing hard. Every instinct screams to shift, to take wing, to get the hell out of here. But the dragon inside me stirs weakly. Too weakly. “We’re grounded.”
The word hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us wants to voice.
“That can’t be true.” Ember shakes her head. I see a ripple of scales over her ivory skin. Silvery gold. Platinum like her hair. She closes her eyes, forehead creasing with concentration. I watch pale gold light flicker beneath her skin; weaker than mine, less controlled. She hasn’t done this often. Vanya’s trained her, sure, but I doubt she’s shifted more than a dozen times.
Her breath comes faster. More scales appear across her shoulders, iridescent in the starlight, then fade. She tries again, teeth clenched, and for a moment I see wings trying to form, translucent membranes that dissolve before they solidify.
“Damnit!” Frustration bleeds through her voice.
I force my gaze away from the curve of her spine, the elegant line of her neck. She’s beautiful and naked and completely unaware of it, focused entirely on the shift that won’t come.
Not the time, Kenan.
“Ember. Stop.”
“I can do this. I just need—”
“You need to conserve energy.” I grab her arm as she sways. “Whatever’s blocking us isn’t going away because you exhaust yourself trying.”
She opens her eyes. They’re wet with tears that she blinks away quickly.
“We’re stuck here.”
“Not if I can help it.” I release her.
I fucking hate this feeling.
