Liane licked her suddenly dry lips. Her heart was pounding. Surely the Avatheos wouldn’t do anything that would hurt her, would he?
“Hold out your hand, Liane,” he said.
Her hand trembled as she held it up—from fear or excitement, she wasn’t sure. But the moment he placed the tip of the blade against her palm, all she felt was flames, white-hot surging through her veins and threatening to consume her from within. Red filled her vision, and even when she tried to close her eyes, it was still there. It felt like the first time she’d illuminated, but so much worse.
The pain stung like a burn that ran through her flesh and down her back, a searing, splitting pain that felt as if her back was being broken open and the Avatheos was reaching in to yank the sword out of her back or crack open her rib cage and rip the sword out through her chest. She cried out and tried to pull away from the dagger, but the Avatheos grabbed hold of her hand, forcing the blade to pierce her palm deeper.
“The sword, I can see it!” he shouted, free hand outstretched as if he’d grip hold of it.
Tears were streaming down her face. Was it really supposed to hurt this badly? The edges of her vision were clouding, and the pain was becoming unbearable. Then she saw wings beating at the edge of her vision. There was a monstrously large crow sitting in the corner of the room, watching her with its head cocked, mocking her.
“Run,” it cawed. Liane lurched back, pulling her hand away, and the dagger fell to the ground between her and the Avatheos, shattering into a thousand pieces. The raven had disappeared, and she wasn’t sure if it had been a fevered delusion or a vision.
The Avatheos stumbled backward, clutching the hand that he’d reached out with to grab the sword, and it was red and inflamed. Or, at least, she thought it was because every candle and light blew out in that moment, and they were both plunged into darkness. Panting and cradling her injured hand, Liane stood, her instincts telling her to run, but her devotion to finding the truth kept her in place. The candles reignited, and the Avatheos, also breathing hard, stood back from her as if he was terrified of her, though she couldn’t imagine why.
“The revealing stone is harder than diamond. It shouldn’t have shattered so easily,” he said. He rubbed the bottom of his chin. “But I saw it, the Golden Blade fused with your back. We’ll need something stronger to draw it out, I believe.”
It seemed he was talking more to himself than her, but she was too tired to care. The pain in her hand was fading, and the shock of what had happened was starting to settle, and in its place, her stomach was roiling.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she announced a moment before leaning forward and vomiting her dinner onto the Avatheos’ polished floors.
“Perhaps I pushed you too hard for your first time. Return to your room and rest. We will resume your training another day, after I have consulted the stars on what to do next.”
Liane nodded and stood on wobbling feet. The Avatheos must have called for Ludwig because the next thing she knew, he was there, his arm around her waist, half dragging her out the door.
“What happened?” he asked.
Liane shook her head, not wanting to talk about it and preferring the temptation of sleeping for a thousand years or more.
Without his assistance, she would never have made it to her room, where she collapsed onto her mattress and decided sleeping for a thousand years sounded like a very good idea, not realizing she’d completely forgotten her meeting with Erich.
7
The dragon was much too restless for a waning crescent night. Erich had nearly been crawling out of his skin in anticipation of seeing Liane again and spent most of the day prowling the city, fighting the impulse to loiter for fear of raising suspicion from the Midnight Guard. But when the sun set, he returned to the rendezvous point. The dragon’s hunger was concerning. He’d seen it take interest before, when it’d taken a man’s life, but back then, it hadn’t been possessive; it’d been bloodlust, a desire so deep to devour and maim he’d lost control and killed like a wild animal. He’d been trying to ignore the gnawing hunger of the dragon for weeks. But it’d been swelling inside him, crowding out all other thoughts besides Liane, especially at night. It’d only gotten worse since he’d saved her on the dock—pressed his fingers into her flesh, smelled the rosewater in her hair, and let her slip through his fingers once again. This was the dangerous game he was playing. He danced upon the knife’s edge, both her savior and her destruction. How long before the hunger turned to bloodshed?
A pair of Midnight Guards strolled past where Erich loitered, and he slunk back into the shadows, praying he hadn’t been seen. A bell tower chimed the first curfew warning.
He’d hoped she’d have come out by now; the closer to curfew, the more Midnight Guards there’d be wandering the streets.
He knew the risks of waiting for a reply that might never come, and he was willing to accept them. But there was a wrongness about the stillness of this night. His skin prickled and twitched, just days before the change. Although this didn’t seem to be coming from within, even the dragon had gone quiet. There was a faintly sweet scent in the air—magic.
Erich surveyed the shadows that surrounded him. What if she’d betrayed him and he was walking into an ambush? He gripped the hilt of his dagger, pushed the sheath down with his thumb, and revealed the inscription along the blade. He dragged his thumb along the inscription there. His maternal uncle who’d gifted him the blade would have teased him for being so suspicious. Liane had helped Erich escape once, even knowing what beast lived inside his skin. She wouldn’t turn on him. But that didn’t mean her maid could be trusted. He’d been blinded by his decision to trust her. Should he turn back? But he waited.
The second of three alarm bells rang, and the streets were empty. Erich tapped his fingers against his dagger and continued to wait.
A man walked up and gave Erich a crooked smile, the sort of look he’d seen on plenty of common criminals. He reached for his dagger and whistled, pretending not to notice him, hoping he’d pass him by. But he wasn’t so fortunate.
“You’re still here?” the man said.
He’d never seen the man before, but presumably, he’d noticed Erich earlier.
“Just on my way back,” Erich replied and turned to walk away. He’d circle the street and come back, praying to the Trinity that Liane didn’t choose that moment to come meet him.
The man fell into step with Erich, walking down the street with him.
“I heard your master has ambitions to meet the goddess’ chosen.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erich said.
