Or. . .they probably thought the most obvious. . .that Korin incinerated her like all the others.
Sol’s throat closed.
They think I’m gone.
Her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, tears spilled from her eyes.
Sol wiped her face quickly, brushing away the tears before they could fully dry.
No crying. We’re too strong for that.
She straightened her spine as best she could within the cradle of Korin’s claws. Her legs remained tucked close to her chest, so she adjusted again, slowly, straightening her legs.
Korin’s talons shifted once more, accommodating her without hesitation, yet making sure that she was in his grip.
I am going to survive whatever this is.
Sol exhaled through her nose.
A pulse of frost stirred in her fingertips—small, harmless. But it reminded her that she was not just someone to be carried away.
She was still dangerous.
I am strong. I have power. I can. . .beat him.
She leaned her head back and after several minutes of endless ocean and shimmering stars. . .her eyes fluttered closed.
Chapter eleven
Gold and Bone
Sol
Sol dreamed of flames so pure that they kissed the edges of the sky and sang in languages she couldn’t understand. She was in some battle, standing on the edge of a cliff, her body wrapped in armor that shimmered with ice.
Across from her stood a dragon, black and gold, magnificent and monstrous, with eyes like molten suns and wings that blotted out the sky.
Korin.
He lunged.
No!
She met him with her palms outstretched, releasing a blast of ice so sharp it cracked the ground beneath her. Power surged through her body.
She was not Lowly in this dream.
She was a force.
Still, Korin didn’t falter. He broke through her frost with one beat of his wings, barreling toward her. His roar was an earthquake. His eyes burned through her soul.
And then. . .his fangs descended to rip her body apart. Heat wrapped around her neck. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The last thing she saw was fire reflected in her own eyes.
She screamed.
No!!!
Sol jolted awake, breath ragged and shallow.
