Faron didn’t like the idea that things could get bigger than this. The threat of another war hung over her head like a blade, ready to cleave her in two. Part of her remembered the rage that seemed to spark at her fingertips as she was made to perform her powerfor the Novan dignitaries; they wouldn’t be so entertained if they were facing her on the battlefield, forced to remember once more that San Irie and the Childe Empyrean were a force to be reckoned with. But that was a small part of her, drowned out by nightmares of fire and destruction, smoke and death.
War didn’t prove one country was stronger than another. It just snuffed out lives from each nation until only mourners were left to make sense of it all.
She stopped in the center of the hallway, heart sinking. “What if there’s no way to save Elara without playing right into his hands? What if, no matter what we do, the Langlish Empire is going to—”
“We’re going to save Elara,” Reeve said as if there were no room for doubt. “And we’re going to stop whatever my father is planning. We stopped him when we were younger than this. It should be easier now that we’re older and already united.”
“Are we?” she couldn’t help asking. “United?”
Reeve raised one shoulder in a small shrug. “The one thing we’ve always had in common is our love for Elara. I’m willing to put aside everything else to focus on helping her if you are.”
The apology she wanted to give rattled around in her throat, trapped by her pride. Who said she had to apologize to him, anyway? The best apology was changed behavior, and here he was giving her an opportunity to change.
“All right,” she said. “Truce.”
Her hand reached out, hovering in the air between them. Reeve stared at it and then stared at her. She couldn’t read his expression. Maybe one day she would ask him why he studied her all the time as if she were one of the books he was always reading. She never knew what he was looking for, only that he rarely found it.
Then his hand clasped hers in a firm grip that felt like its own kind of promise. “Truce.”
Faron’s palm felt hot as it fell back to her side. She resisted the urge to wipe it on her skirts. “Great. Fine. Now, let’s go tell the queen.”
A smile crossed Reeve’s face, but he didn’t say a word as they started walking again. Faron hid her own smile, picturing Elara’s reaction when she found out they’d called a truce without her intervention. If they could do that, maybe their combined efforts would find a way to break the bond before the Summit was out. Maybe this was a problem too personal for the gods. Maybe it needed a human touch.
Because Reeve was right. The one thing they’d always had in common was their love for Elara, and it was their love for Elara that could save her.
If it couldn’t… Well. There was nothing that Faron wouldn’t do for her sister.
PART II
SCHOLAR
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELARA
FEAR CHILLEDELARA’S BLOOD AS THEY FLEW TOWARDHEARTHSTONE.
She had never left San Irie before, and she’d certainly never seen a continent in person before. Deadegg was her world; San Irie was her planet. War had done little to widen that scope. For her family, she’d made her world small again, made herselfsmall again, until she had dreamed no larger than the boundaries of her island. Langley spilled on and on and on, a patchwork of endless greens that dammed the Ember Sea. Somewhere beyond, on the rest of the Novan continent, lay Étolia and Joya del Mar, and Elara couldn’t imagine how large those empires were. How long would it take to fly from one end of Nova to the other?
How many cultures had thrived on this massive land before the empires snuffed them out?
Before, their victory against Langley had seemed inevitable. But now, that victory seemed like a miracle. An anomaly. The queen was right. They could not beat this colossus of a country again.
“The Hestan Archipelago is a chain of islands situated in the middle of Serpentia Bay, which feeds out to the Crown Sea,” Zephyra informedher as they flew.“It’s where Riders and dragons spend most of their time when they aren’t in Beacon.”
“Beacon’s the capital,” Signey said before Elara could ask.“We’ll be spending our weekends there.”
Elara wanted to ask why, but even without seeing Signey’s face, Elara felt the icy chill of her resentment. She chose to ignore it, if only because they were miles off the ground, and, even though they were both strapped to the dragon’s saddle, she didn’t trust that her co-Rider wouldn’t shove her off.
Then Zephyra dipped through a break in the clouds, and Elara’s gasp flew away on the wind.
Seven islands of various shapes stood out from the cobalt ocean. As Zephyra circled the northernmost island, titanic multicolored forms emerged from the mist: soaring around the buildings, splashing in the water, slumbering on the sand of the nearest beach. Though it couldn’t have been more than four, Elara hadn’t seen so many dragons together since they’d swarmed San Irie. Zephyra was a pebble against these gem-colored mountains.
Elara’s arms tightened around Signey’s waist. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a Rider now—at least until she got the information the queen needed. She couldn’t be afraid of other dragons just because they were bigger than her own.
Zephyra landed in a wide field with athumpthat Elara felt throughout her body. As the dragon jogged to a complete stop, Elara noticed that the grass was flattened, as if it existed solely for the purpose of these arrivals. Behind them, a beach outlined the field, its sandy shoreline revealed and then swallowed by the waves. In front of them was a hill with a flat plateau, too steep to see the dragons who lay beyond.
Once Zephyra kneeled down to bring them closer to the ground, Elara undid her flight strap and slid eagerly from the saddle. She landed with none of the grace of her Firstrider, but her thighs burned from the hours-long flight. It was a wonder she could even still walk.
