Saipha sighs and rakes her fingers through her shoulder-length red hair. “Fine, go on ahead. I’ll find my father and send him your way. He can help you search.”
“Thanks.” I take a step backward.
“Watch out for the acid,” Saipha says hastily. And, right as I’m about to turn, she adds, “And I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Time pauses, as if holding reverence for the heavy meaning behind her farewell. Tomorrow morning is the Convening—the start of the Tribunal. What could be my last day alive.
“See you in the morning,” I murmur with a nod and begin to run.
When Vinguard couldn’t build out, it built up. When it became too risky to build higher than two stories because dragons like to perch on the tallest buildings, it built in. The streets are mazelike, barely wide enough for one person in some places. They switch back on themselves, forming tunnels where houses have been built around and over them and turning into short bridges where they span rooftops.
Lucky for me, during a dragon attack everyone hides inside, so I can sprint at full speed without fear of running into anyone. Which is why it’s almost insulting how unfair it is when out of this whole city of people,heemerges.
Lucan steps into view at the end of the street. I skid to a stop. His dragon-blood red curate robes are almost black whensoaked with rain.
Why do you wear those? You’re not even arealcurate, I want to jab. He’s eighteen, like me, and about to go into the Tribunal. He can’t really be a curate of the Creed until after he has his gilding. I’m sure the robes are the vicar’s doing, like the collar on a dog. A signal to everyone, making it clear who he belongs to. I, of all people, know how much Vicar Darius loves dressing up his pets.
Lucan dips his chin, scowl deepening. “I knew you were slinking about.”
5
“Takes a slinker to know one,” I quip back.Should’ve given more thought to that. Not my finest work. But I don’t really have time to exchange verbal barbs with him.
Lucan steps forward. His thick eyebrows have a deep line between them. His dark-blond hair is turned brown when wet, though golden highlights still glint in the last of the twilight.
“What’re you doing, Isola?”
Going to see if my mum is still breathing, I almost say.Almost. But then I remember how well that worked out for me last time.
The Creed hates Mum. The vicar has all but said he’ll kill her himself if I step out of line. And Lucan is nothing if not an extension of his father.
“I was out to get some medicine when the dragon attacked. I’m going home.” Lying is so easy when you don’t care about the person you’re lying to.
“Your home is in the opposite direction.” He’s close enough that I can see his eyes. They’re a frustratingly beautiful shade of hazel, if I’m being honest. Well, if I’m being really honest, all of him is quite annoyingly attractive, given he’s the spawn of the most evil man I know.
“Oh, is it?” I feign confusion as an excuse to take in my surroundings, stepping back in the process. “Weird, I must have gotten turned around.”
“I can escort you home.”
I’d rather walk with a silver dragon than you. “Such a generous offer, but not necessary.”
“I think I should.”
“Really, I’m fine. Thanks for your concern. See you tomorrow.” Those last three words are ash on my tongue as I dart awaydown a side alley. Lucan shouts after me. I hear his footsteps hammering the cobblestones. But I have a solid head start, and after years of the vicar’s training, I knowexactlyhow his son is going to think.
I rip off my cloak, hanging it on a loose shutter before sprinting in the opposite direction. It might buy me only a second of him being fooled. But that’s all I need.
Even though he probably knows where I’m going…The thought has me running faster still, my heart straining with every beat against the cage of scar tissue between my ribs.
I catch my breath at a crossroads. To the left is Mum’s apartment. To the right is where the dragon fell.
One step left. Pause. “Damn it all.” I turn right and run again.
I know where she’s going to be because Mum, for all her brilliance, doesn’t have a sensible bone in her body. She’s as reckless as Saipha, but where Saipha is all the “good” kind of reckless—wanting to kill dragons and walk the wall before she’s allowed—Mum is the “bad” kind of reckless. The kind that has her questioning the Creed, conducting illegal research that gets her kicked out of a guild, or—
Holding back a green dragon’s jowls as she works to pry out a dragon fang.
“Mum.” My voice fails to carry over the growing rain. I rush over. “Mum.”
