The silver of the inquisitor’s dagger protruding from Yenni’s body glints in the moonlight. Clumsy of the prelate not to sheathe it again. Mercy Knights are supposed to guard their daggers at all costs.
I grab it as I run, using the blood that’s collected on the guard to draw a sigil on the back of the hand clutching the knife.
I take my stance, holding out the blade. The dragon looks at me, and I can almost imagine its scaly forehead rising as if to say,What do you intend to do with that?
Ether moves within me and around me—deep below, churning in the Font. Rising through stone and mortar. It moves through me, to the dragon, and back. The sensation is so sharp and present, it’s almost as if the magic replaces my own breath.
The dragon’s eyes shimmer like molten gold, as though it can feel it, too. As if we’re having a conversation with magic alone. As though I can almost understand the beast.
Something about standing here, now… I can’t imagine killing it. Maybe that’s why even though Ether begins to collect around me with tiny sparks and hazy swirls, I can’t bring myself tounleash it. I was prepared to have the dragon lunge for me and use the armor sigil to protect myself while I cut out its throat from the inside.
The dragon leans forward. Its massive neck is able to span halfway across the rooftop to me. In so doing, its forearms come forward, sending the other supplicants scattering. One doesn’t get out of the way in time, and in my periphery, a splatter of crimson accompanies a sickening crunch. Others scream, but I don’t react. I can’t. I can hardly breathe.
The dragon’s eyes bore holes into me, consuming me.
The air between us begins to spark like stardust. The dragon’s face is so close that I can feel its breathing. Its face is monstrous, wider than I am tall. But I don’t sense any animosity from it. It doesn’t lunge for me. It doesn’t bite. Just like the dragon that day, it studies me with curiosity.
With a huff through its nostrils that blows my hair from my face, the shimmering magical aura that surrounds the beast lowers. The act almost feels like…it’s sayinghello.
The moment it drops its barrier, I can sense even more about the creature. Etherlight runs along its scales—that must be how it makes the protective aura.It’s not using Ethershade… It’s using Etherlight, just like us…
My elbow unlocks. Muscles relax. “Tell me,” I breathe, audible only to the beast and me.Everything beyond the walls, the truth about the world and magic, about your kind. Tell me…
It lowers its chin, as if to say in reply,You already know. Its eyes drag down to my chest—right to my heart, where the other dragon’s claw carved into my skin. There’s something akin to recognition within them.
I open my mouth again to demand to know what secrets it holds. As if it could speak. As though it’s a breath from returning to whatever unfortunate soul it once was before the person transformed into a monstrous dragon.
Without warning, a deafeningboomexplodes from an upper level of Mercy Spire. The beam of light blinds me. The meditative flow of Ether that had surrounded the dragon and me is disrupted by what amounts to the sensation of a cleaver striking stone. The cannon fire strikes true, straight through the beast’s center. For its final second, its eyes widen, staring straight through me, as if to say,How could you?
An apology burns my tongue unbidden.
Then, the yellow dragon rears back and lets out a dying scream. It staggers, shudders, and tips away, falling off the edge of the monastery and into the dark night.
41
No one says anything. No one breathes.
Ears ringing from the cannon fire, none of us hears the buffet of massive wings as the remaining dragon retreats to fight another day. The bells fall silent, in stark contrast to the cacophony that rattled the city. The other supplicants slowly regain their footing. Some are injured. All are shaken. None can bring themselves to look at the bodies of those claimed by the attack.
All eyes turn to me instead.
Their expressions are unreadable. Did they see my action as bold and brave? I stare at the dagger still in my grip. Was it enough to make them think I had the capability to take down that dragon, and the Mercy Knights merely beat me to it? Or do they all know now, beyond any doubt, that I am nothing more than a fraud? I felt the Ether gather…but I didn’t unleash it. Could they somehow know that part of me held back?
My hand falls limply, and the dagger clatters to the ground. The motion triggers Saipha, and she sprints over. Past her, I see Lucan shifting, a few steps forward, halting, then back. Our eyes meet.
What doyouthink of me?I want to ask of the man who looked so ready to slay a dragon. So filled with righteous fight. My throat has gone dry.
“Are you all right?” Saipha asks as she comes to a stop right before me. I can’t tell if she’s actually whispering or if my hearing is still muted from the cannon fire and the rush of blood from the surge of Etherlight.
“I’m fine.” I nod.
“What were you thinking?” she hisses.
“I wasn’t. I was acting on instinct,” I admit. “Maybe it was the call of Valor in me.” The words are hollow even to my ears. But somethingdidpossess me to step forward. If not Valor, then what? Do I even know who I am anymore? My mind feels like mashed potatoes, and I don’t think I can blame it entirely on the purple dragon.
“Armed with a dagger? Valor was brave, not stupid.” She shivers and grips herself, quickly getting it under control. “I feel like I’m going to be sick. Your recklessness made me sick. How dare you, Isola.”
“I’m sorry.” I give an apologetic smile at the touch of teasing she managed to add in at the last moment.
