“The way you treat me like a spy? A traitor? The big, bad nemesis in all your worst nightmares? I never say a single word about it, even though it’s unfair, so you don’t get to act as ifI’mthe bully here.”
Reeve’s eyes were livid, his breathing harsh. Faron had never seen him so angry before, and it thrilled her.Finally.Here was the monster behind the mask. Here was the boy she’d always known was there, a worthy adversary instead of some mild-mannered bookworm. She pressed even closer, so close that their noses were almost touching, baring her teeth to antagonize him more. And, for once, Reeve rose to her bait, not backing off or backing down, snarling right back.
Finally.
“The fact, Faron,” he continued, “is that everyone talks about you as if you’re a saint. Elara included, sometimes. But all I see is a spoiled, selfish child who wastes all her potential, blaming everyone else for her problems.”
Faron’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I take it back,” she sneered. “I do hate you. Ihateyou.”
“If you were the one in trouble,” Reeve finished coldly, “Elara would never let herself have thetimeto be bored. Not for a second. Not until you were home. She would doanythingfor you. Clearly, you can’t say the same.”
The air inside the library was perfectly still, all perfectly quiet except their heavy breathing. Faron stepped away from him, swallowing hard. Reeve was six inches taller than she was, but right now she felt less than six inches tall. Those words cut deeper than anything else he had said, smothering the cold fire of her rage. Faron hadn’t told Reeve that the gods wanted her to kill all the dragons—and Elara, along with their Riders—but that didn’t matter.
He was right.
Shehadbeen sitting on the floor, distracting him from reading because she wasbored, when her sister was in danger. Elara would never have done that. Elara would have done whatever it took to bring her home.
Faronwasspoiled.
Shewasselfish.
He was right.
“Like I said, it shouldn’t matter to you what I think of you,” Reeve said, but there was a note of unease there now. His anger had retreated, and now he seemed almost apologetic. For some reason, that hurt even more. “Besides, you’re not… you’re not wrong. Iamreading because it’s all I know how to do. I’m taking these notes for your benefit, actually. I hope they’re an easier read than the dense text.”
It was an offering, but Faron was too dazed to accept it. Her legs didn’t even feel as if they belonged to her as she floated toward the exit of the library. Reeve might have called her name, or he might have muttered something under his breath. All exterior noise had turned to static. She had no idea where she was going, except that she had to put as much space between herself and those sharp truths as possible.
This was how he felt about her when hedidn’thate her? How could he not hate her? Gods, Faron hatedherselfafter hearing that.
She slid out onto the back patio of the manor house. Stone tiles turned to steps at the base of the patio. A grassy path curved from there to the edge of the cliff. The ocean shimmered beneath the sunlight before her, but she could draw no comfort from that right now.
Even the gods thought she was selfish. They’d asked her to save the world from the Fury, and Faron had declined because her sister would be hurt in the process.Everyone talks about you as if you’re a saint, Reeve had said. Faron closed her eyes. No one would worship the Childe Empyrean if they knew she had refused to be their savior the moment she had a personal stake in the fight.
And maybe they shouldn’t. Faron had never asked to be worshipped. She’d only ever asked for one thing—her sister, safe and happy—and all the good she’d done had only given her pain. If doing the right thing meant losing everything, then Faron was done trying to do the right thing. She was done trying to be something, someone, other than herself.
If Reeve thought she was selfish—if Irie and Mala and Obie thought she was selfish—then let her be selfish. Forget the world. She wanted her sister to come home. And there was only one way to make that happen, only one thing that Faronalonecould do. She was tired of sitting around waiting for books and gods to solve her problems. She was tired of other people telling her what to do or who to be. She was tired of being lied to and used and blamed and yelled at.
Gray Saint, she sent out into the void.I’m here, and I’m ready to listen.
A large ball of light, like a floating sun, appeared before her and coalesced into a translucent but corporeal boy around her age. He was ivory skinned and hazel eyed with high cheekbones and midnight hair that brushed his shoulders. His face was all architectural angles, but he was tall and his arms, legs, and chest were corded with muscle made obvious by his tight cotton shirt and fitted trousers. He was barefoot and faintly glowing, as if he were outlined by the same sunlight that had birthed him.
And he was beautiful, even if it was in the way a desert flower was beautiful until you tried to pick it and discovered a cactus beneath.
“Hello, Empyrean,” he said in a hypnotically deep voice. “My name is Gael Soto.”
“Your—what?” Faron’s eyes narrowed. “I was summoning the Gray Saint. Who are you?”
“We are one and the same.”
Gael Soto.The name was both familiar and not. She had never heard it in connection to him, but—Soto? As in related to Signey Soto?She bit back the question before it could leave the safety of her head. It was information, and she didn’t know yet if she wanted Gael Soto to know his potential descendants were still alive.
“Okay…Gael. They say that you were the first dragon Rider,” she said. “They say that you’re a god, but they didn’t say of what. I need to know about dragon bonds. How they’re made and how to break them.” She took a step forward, tipping her chin up to hold his gaze. “You showed me how to do the impossible. I’m asking you to do it again. Can you help me?Willyou help me?”
Gael Soto, the Gray Saint, smiled as slow as nightfall, and all Faron saw was the abyss she was willingly stepping into.
“It would be my pleasure.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
