He slid past her and through the door. Faron waited until her hands stopped shaking to go after him. Reeve was in there, but Gael was in there, too. And Lightbringer was too strong—too ancient, too powerful—for her to overwhelm him with her newfound skill. He knew all her tricks because he had taught them to her through Gael, and his malevolence ran so deep that she worried he would kill what remained of both boys just to teach her a lesson.
She joined Iya on the balcony that overlooked the queen’s private beach. What she saw on the horizon made her freeze for a different reason. Nobility hurtled toward the island, faster than she had ever seen the drake fly. Trailing it were six dragons of various colors and sizes, flying just as quickly in a pyramid formation.
“They’re attacking the island,” she said, hoping that Iya would care. That he wouldstopthem. “Why are they attacking the island? I thought Langley was on your side.”
“I thought so, too,” he replied. “Look closer, Faron. Use your power.”
Faron reached out toward the dragons’ souls. One of the green dragons pulled up alongside Nobility almost like a shield, and she realized that she recognized it. This soul belonged to Elara’s dragon, and that was Elara leading the pack. Faron could feel her determination, her courage, her fierce protectiveness just from skimming the light of her soul.
These dragons hadn’t come to attack the island.
They’d come to save it.
“Adorable, isn’t it?” Iya confirmed. “Oh, well.”
Lightbringer took to the air with a roar that shook the world, and Faron could feel the pulse of magic—the pulse of rage—seconds before the line of dragons began to break, their pyramid formation cracking into chaos.
Iya had told her the truth. He hadn’t created the Fury.
Lightbringer had.
And now he was using it against his fellow dragons.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ELARA
SANIRIE WAS IN SIGHT WHEN EVERYTHING FELL APART.
Zephyra’s body jolted beneath her as if she’d been shocked. Unlike last time, Elara couldn’t ask her what was happening as she dived out of formation, speeding toward a stretch of beach several yards ahead. The whole way, she shook and trembled and snapped her head from side to side, as if she were having a seizure.
“What’s going on?” Elara shouted.
“The Fury; it’s the Fury,” Signey shouted back, her arms tightening around Elara’s waist. “We need to—You need to—”
Gloved fingers gripped Elara’s chin and turned her head to the side. Signey slammed their mouths together in a kiss so fierce it felt almost like an attack, followed by a second, gentler glide of lips like a whispered apology. An immediate sense of warmth and rightness filled Elara, a sense that went beyond the taste of tea and sugar. Signey’s hands cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer, and Elara tilted her head so that their lips slid together more smoothly. It was a kiss that felt like coming home.
Even with Zephyra’s body roiling beneath them, Elara felt safe. Held in place by Signey’s kind hands.
They smiled into each other’s mouths, and Elara hadn’t felt this level of comfort from a first kiss in her life. She buried her fingers in Signey’s wavy hair and slid her tongue between Signey’s parted lips and let the sounds that Signey made settle in her chest right next to her heart.
A place that Signey had already been for longer than Elara was willing to admit.
Signey’s face was flushed when they parted, her eyes wide, her expression young and open.
And then Elara was free-falling through the air as Signey flung her off the side of Zephyra’s back.
Elara’s scream was swallowed by the frigid ocean that slapped her body with a splash. Cold water filled her eyes, her ears, her mouth, salty and glacial and yet blistering. She’d been mere feet away, but it still felt as if she’d been hit by a rock, and it took her too long to figure out which way to swim so she wouldn’t drown. She emerged into the open air with a gasp, coughing water out of her lungs, rubbing at her burning eyes so that she could see. Her ears slowly popped, and the sound of roaring rushed in above the waves. The Fury had consumed all the dragons they’d brought with them. They raced toward San Irie, already spitting fire in anticipation of the buildings they hoped to set ablaze.
Elara blew out a breath, spraying saltwater everywhere, and then reached for an astral. As soon as Aunt Mahalet’s soul settled in with hers, she made use of her aunt’s athletic skills to swim to shore without tiring. Then she drew on that same magic to run faster than she ever had before.
Her surroundings blurred around her as the magic propelled her forward, faster than a dragon, faster than a drake. Port Sol appearedin only a few steps, and Pearl Bay Palace a few steps after that. But as she slowed, her muscles burning from the exertion and her clothes dry from the wind, she realized that she was still too late.
Zephyra was raining fire down on the boats in the harbor, their masts cracking in half and tipping into the sea. Azeal had landed in the middle of Port Sol’s square, and Elara could hear people screaming as they tried to escape whatever destruction he had wrought. And hovering in the air above the palace was a dragon larger than any Elara had seen before, colorless but for its emerald-green eyes.
The First Dragon.
Oh, Faron. What have you done?
