She pressed her hands to the window and rested her forehead against the backs of them, letting her eyes slide closed. Her soul slipped beyond the boundaries of her body, but, instead of calling the gods, she reached out to that otherworldly soul.
Calm down.
It was easier this time. Tethering herself to the dragon’s soul was still like leashing herself to a comet, but she knew that she was stronger than any of them now. Sheknewher will was stronger than theirs; she just had to make sure they knew it, too. As she shoved her way in deeper, submerging herself in this light and this power to control the dragon completely, she realized that she recognized this particular soul. The dragon bending to her orders was the same one from the Victory Garden. It was Elara’s dragon. If Faron pressed hard enough, she could feel the flicker of her sister’s soul bonded to this one.
Once she felt the fires of the dragon’s anger dim to embers, she was able to open her eyes to stare dizzily through the glass. Her soul dropped back into her body like a boulder, begging her to rest, but the sight before her was more effective at keeping her awake than the strongest Iryan coffee. She recognized this mud-brown farmland, these squat buildings, that recognizable hunk of scales that acted as a town landmark. Nobility was hovering over Deadegg.
She was home.
“They were headed here,” Gael said. His reflection appeared in the glass next to hers, but while she could see that she was worn down, bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there before she’d left Seaview, he looked lively and bright-eyed. “Of course. I should have seen it before. The universe can never resist this kind of symmetry.”
“What are you talking about?” Faron asked around a yawn. “What kind of symmetry?”
“There’s a reason the dragon was drawn here. It’s the same reason that I appeared in San Irie in the first place. The entrance to the Empty is in Deadegg. It seems our connection runs far deeper than I imagined.”
A chill raced down Faron’s spine. She pushed herself away from the window, swaying only slightly. Gael was still staring out the window with covetous eyes, but her sudden silence soon drew his attention. Except, this time, she saw his innocent confusion for the sinister act that it was.
“Is all this happeningbecause of you?” she asked, voice trembling with anger. “Did you lie to me again?”
“I haven’t lied to you. I’m not lying to you now,” said Gael. “Don’t you see? All this is happening because the door between realms has been closed for too long. The Empty is a realm between the divine plane and the mortal one. With the door closed, dragons are cut off from the divinity that created and sustains them, and they’re starting to feel the effects of that. Opening the door means curing them.”
“But that’s where the First Dragon is. Right? I’m not strong enough to—”
“You are.” He took a step toward her, lifting a hand and then dropping it when she backed away from him. “Faron, you are so much more than they have ever allowed you to be. You have become stronger still under my guidance. The First Dragon is beyond that door, but so am I. And you are now the only person in the world who can destroy him. The only person who can save me.”
Faron turned away from his sharply beautiful face so she could think. The gods had told her the same thing, she realized. The Fury was the result of dragons overstaying their welcome in the mortal world. Their solution had been to eradicate the dragons. Gael’s was to cure them. Could there be a middle ground where she cured them of the Fury, freed her sister and Gael, andthensent the creatures back to their world?
“How do I open the door?” she asked, still staring at the walls partially lit by the pulsing glow from the center cockpit. “Assuming I can even find it, that is. Deadegg is small, but it’s notthatsmall.”
“The door to the Empty can be opened only by the same thing that sealed it in the first place: the magic of the gods. A power only the Childe Empyrean can wield.” Gael had moved silently closer, his breath warm on the back of her neck, his voice low and hypnotic. “The commander never knew that you were the key to his plan. The key to everything. He’s still trying to figure out why the First Dragon has not yet risen. If you open the door first, you can save the world and your sister at once. What you do after that is up to you… but I hope you choose to help me, too.”
Faron closed her eyes, fighting to ignore him. He made it sound so simple, so easy. But nothing was ever that easy, and, if he wasn’t the person who she thought he was, then what he did after his release would be on her head, too.
She thought of Elara. The soul of her dragon was almost too distant to reach out to now, but Faron remembered the feel of their connection. Gael was right. She was stronger now. She felt stronger—certainly strong enough take down any dragon. The First Dragon was the danger. Not Gael. And if Gaelwasa problem, she was the solution. She was the Childe Empyrean. There wasnothingshe couldn’t do.
And she was Faron Vincent. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister.
It was time she stopped letting people dictate the kind of saint she was. She would prove to her gods, to her island, and to herself that she couldstillsave the world—whether she remained the child they remembered or not.
CHAPTER THIRTY
ELARA
WHENELARA WOKE UP IN AN UNFAMILIAR BED, SHE WANTED TOrage. Not because of the Fury, the memory of which came back to her in fits and starts like the world’s worst stage show, but because she knew that she had once again played right into the commander’s hands. What better catalyst for war than a dragon attack on San Irie, perpetrated by the mount of the only Iryan Rider in history? What better scapegoat for the necessity of such a war than the Iryan everyone already assumed was a spy?
She climbed out of the bed and nearly tripped over a package on the floor. It was one of her bags, fully packed and transported from Hearthstone. The other was half-hidden under the mattress, equally full. Elara’s stomach dropped as she headed for the door. There were soldiers in the hallway, dressed in black and carrying swords. They began to draw them as soon as they caught sight of her, and Elara quickly retreated into her room.
Before she could close her door, the one across the hall opened. Signey stepped out, ignoring the soldiers, and backed Elara into her own bedroom. She kicked the door shut behind them, but a soldier reopened it and stepped inside to watch them. “Are you all right?”
“Where are we and how did we get here?” Elara asked.
“I saw Irontooth in the garden when I woke up, so I assume he forced us here after we flew back that day. This is Rosetree Manor, the home of the commander and the director,” said Signey. “Something about this place, it’s blocking my connection to the den. Zephyra is right outside, and I can’t even hear her.”
Elara’s eyes widened. “But how?”
“Dragon relics. Their magic can be directed to influence the natural world and neutralize the unnatural magic of the creatures they come from. If the commander built this manor with the remains of dragons, he could conceivably keep his own den from spying on him. It’s rare, dangerous, impossible magic, and it’s not in any of the books about this place.”
Elara eyed the soldier’s impassive face, biting back her idea for a possible solution. Instead, she silently searched through her bag and then cursed again. Her drake figurine was there, but she couldn’t summon and thus couldn’t use it anyway, making it useless to contact anyone. But depending on how long they’d been unconscious after the flight from San Irie to Langley, she might have missed Faron and Reeve’s last call. They might be looking for her.
