A tear slid free. She would do everything she could to avoid a second war—not just for her island, her sister, and her queen, but for all the Langlish people and dragons she had met who were unafraid to question their empire’s actions. For all the Riders who had showed up for her, and the other citizens across the empire who had been and would become collateral damage, thanks to the commander’s bad decisions. For the peace and progression they could all achieve together if the empire stopped for a second to realize that land was not to be owned and cultures were not to be assimilated.
Elara turned to the Warwicks, pleased to see that their smugness had cracked right down the middle, pleased to see the wariness in their eyes and the frowns on their faces. She smirked in return.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” said Aveline with a polite smile. “But we will be leaving now.”
She released the glass and calmly strode toward the wreckage that had once been the manor wall. Elara tried not to laugh as she followed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
FARON
IN JUST A FEW SHORT HOURS,IYA HAD CONQUEREDPORTSOL.IT HADtaken Lightbringer only one flight around the capital to cow everyone into submission. Liberty had survived, but only because its pilots had been killed before they could reach it. The other two drakes had yet to arrive, which was for the best. Lightbringer was resting on the roof of the palace, large enough to burn all of them at once if they came without a plan.
Now inside, Faron followed the trail of bodies strewn throughout the hallways of Pearl Bay Palace to find Iya. The Queenshield had tried to fight and been torched for their efforts. Their corpses were unrecognizable, their scalestone swords either separated from their hands or their hands separated from their arms entirely. The pungent scent of burning flesh hung thick in the hallway, and Faron had to cover her nose and avert her eyes just to keep from screaming.
It was all familiar. So familiar.
Except, this time, Faron was a prisoner in the palace instead of a soldier come to liberate it.
Except, this time, Faron had invited the enemy here instead of being the savior who could drive them out.
Except, this time, everybody she passed, every life that had been snuffed out, every bit of suffering that her people were facing, was all her fault.
She made it to the war room in a daze, half expecting the walls to be painted red with blood or the lights to be replaced with inky shadows. Instead, she found Iya standing over a table with an open map of the world.
Faron noticed for the first time that he was dressed in a black military uniform that he must have used his dragon relic to conjure. It was identical to the ones Langlish soldiers wore, if outdated in some ways. Instead of the midnight double-breasted coat with the Langlish sunburst on the arms, his was adorned with golden buttons, the Langlish sunburst on his right breast and a white dragon stitched on his left arm. His trousers had a golden line down the sides that disappeared into his black boots. On his back was an image of two curved white swords crossing each other, withKNIGHT OF THE EMPIREwritten in gold thread beneath them.
As he turned to look at her, Reeve’s face set in a solemn expression that almost looked normal, Faron’s heartbeat sped up. She was in a room with an experienced soldier, who had trained for wars like the one she’d stumbled into.
“There you are,” he said. “What kept you?”
“The dead people in the hallway. They’re… they’re a little distracting.”
Iya was confused. She could feel his emotions whispering beneath her own, the bond turning him into an open book. She was reminded of when he’d asked her why she cared what had happened to the men whose wills she’d stolen; it was as if he’dbeen imprisoned for so long that empathy was a foreign concept. Or maybe he’d never felt it before.
Maybe Gael Soto had never really existed. Maybe Iya was all there ever was.
“I’ll have the remaining servants move them, then,” he finally said. “Come here.”
Warily, Faron joined him at the table. There was a small clay figure of a crown on top of San Irie, a fist-shaped island above the islets of San Mala and San Obie. The other Ember Sea islands sat unsuspectingly within a day or two’s boat ride of the area he’d already conquered. Hanging beside them like a storm cloud was the continent of Nova, divided into Joya del Mar, Étolia, and Langley.
Iya had placed another clay crown atop Beacon, the capital of Langley. Her eyes were back on his profile—Reeve’s profile—so serious and distant. Reeve’s face was made for expression, his mouth crafted for smirks and snide remarks, for happiness and history facts. She remembered the first time she’d truly relaxed in his presence, when he’d found her at the Summit and told her stupid things about all the international dignitaries. That felt like years ago, but Faron couldn’t let go of that moment. It had changed something between them before she’d been willing to let it.
She couldn’t believe that Reeve was gone. He had to be in there. Maybehewas now the one lingering inside Iya like a droplet of rain in the ocean. She had to know for sure.
Faron reached for one of the remaining crowns and placed it over Étolia’s capital of Ciel. “Remember when Tournament Guienne Lumiére came to the Summit?”
“Tournesol,” Iya corrected idly. “The heirs to the throne ofÉtolia are called tournesols or tournesolas, and Guienne is third in line after his sisters.”
He sounded more like Reeve than he had since Iya took over his body—and that was all the proof she needed. Faron made an interested noise as her soul slinked out toward him, searching for his. Searching for Reeve’s. But when she made contact with him, his soul flared into a luminous, shifting cloud. She saw Reeve, she saw Gael Soto, she saw Lightbringer, she saw all three at once, and then no one at all as the light morphed again and again. The further she tried to push inside, the more she felt nothing but static, as if too many things were happening at once for her to glean anything but chaos. Faron tried to pull back but discovered that she was stuck like a fly on sticky paper.
And then, as Reeve’s body gazed down at the map, she saw Iya’s soul rise from within him in the shape of a dragon. It turned to look at her with eye sockets empty but for the flame that burned inside them.
“Stupid child, I am older than you can ever conceive. I am older than this world that birthed you. Your attempts to use a fraction of my own power against me are akin to throwing a pebble at a giant.” Lightbringer’s voice was like the feeling of a thousand needles pricking her skin. “Make no mistake: You live only because he cares for you. You are no longer the Empyrean, and you are no longer of use to me. If it were my choice alone, I would have slaughtered you the moment I was freed. Do not make me regret that I didn’t.”
Iya’s soul slithered back inside him. Faron reared back from the table with a gasp, her vision flickering in and out as if she’d been channeling a god for hours. Iya turned to her, and all she could see was the dragon that had crawled deep inside his psyche.
“We have guests approaching,” he said. “We should see what they want.”
