I swallow hard, guilt surfacing yet again. “You could have saved her if you hadn’t picked me.”
“Then all three of us would be dead.” He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “I saved who I could, Ember. There was no way I could pull her free before the chopper went down. You were the obvious choice.”
Was I?
Of course I was.
But if I’d been able to reach for my power, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. And maybe Mara would be here with us now. Maybe we could both have tapped into our dragon strength to save the only human among us.
Except, we couldn’t.
“I miss it,” I whisper. “Being… more.”
Luke is silent for a long moment. Then: “You’re not less now.”
“I feel less.”
“Feeling and being aren’t the same thing.” He adds another branch to the fire. “You think power makes you strong. Butpower is just a tool. Strength is what you do when the tools are gone.”
I look at him. At the hard lines of his face, the certainty in every movement, the complete absence of doubt despite everything that’s happened.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” I ask.
“It’s what I know.” His eyes meet mine through the flames. “I’ve lost everything more than once. Every time, I thought that was it. That, without those things, I was nothing.”
“But?”
“But I kept breathing. Kept moving. Eventually built something new.” He shrugs. “Not better. Not the same. Just… new.”
The words settle heavy in my chest. Heavy and hopeful all at once.
“It’ll come back,” he adds quietly. “Your dragon. Your magic. And we’ll get out of here.”
“You don’t know that.” I hate how childlike I sound, and it occurs to me that I’ve seldom been far from my mother’s protection. God, I’m such a baby.
Especially compared to him.
“No,” he admits. “But I believe it.”
The certainty in his voice does something to my ribs. Makes them tight and loose all at once.
I lean back against the stone, exhaustion finally winning. The fire has spread warmth through the small space; not dragon-heat, but enough.
My eyes drift closed despite my best efforts.
“Sleep,” Luke says. “I’ll keep watch.”
“You need rest too,” I mumble.
“I’ll manage.”
Of course he will. He always manages.
Sleep drags me down fast and hard, pulled under by exhaustion I’ve never known before.
The last thing I’m aware of is Luke’s breathing—steady, rhythmic, grounding—and the strange comfort of knowing he’s there.
Chapter 7
