We arc over the rocky cliffs below, and I spot a flash of pink, Rosanthra, racing to the edge of another cliff. On the cliff’s edge, four Gore Rock riders have Sevrin pinned to the ground. He’snot moving. His chest is bare, and the men are taking turns pounding his face and ribs, laughing as they go.
“There!” I shout, and Ebron dives, a living battering ram. The force of his landing rips the air in two. I almost lose my grip, and one of the men is instantly vaporized under Ebron’s foreclaw. The rest stagger back, eyes huge.
Ebron lets out a sound I’ve never heard before, a sound that makes even the other dragons hesitate. It’s more than a roar. It’s the sound of a creature as ancient as the earth bellowing into the night. Then he opens his mouth and just… inhales, and the two nearest men are swept off their feet and drawn straight into his jaws. He chews once, then spits out what’s left of them.
Having cleared a place for me, he lowers his head.Save your mate. I will protect you.
I’m off his head before I know what I’m doing, running full tilt toward Sevrin. The last Gore Rock bastard sees me coming and tries to draw his sword, but Rosanthra launches herself forward and pins him with a single swipe of her talon. She clamps his head in her mouth and twists. I hear the wet pop, and then she’s tossing the body aside, eyes on me.
Sevrin is lying on the stone, a mess of blood and bruises. His arms are wrenched behind him, wrists raw and purple. His face is so swollen I can barely recognize him, but the eyes—even though one of them is barely open—are all him.
I drop to my knees. “Sevrin!” My hands shake so badly I can barely get the knots undone that bind his wrists.
He coughs, a spray of pink. “My Heart,” he whispers, and his smile is all teeth and blood.
I bite my lip and keep working at the ropes. “I’m here. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”
He groans as the bindings come loose, and I pull him to me, cradling his ruined head against my chest. His hair is sticky with blood, but it’s still soft, still Sevrin.
The battle isn’t over. Above us, the dragons are shrieking, fire pouring down on the fortress. I glance up and see Sylvara take a spear to the wing. She howls, but keeps flying, twisting to snap at her attacker. Verdraxa is circling Ebron, her scales catching the torchlight as she rams another dragon midair, sending the rider flying off into the abyss. Nythera is strafing the walls, breathing fire into every window.
Rosanthra nudges me, her nose cold and gentle on my shoulder.He lives?she thinks, the words trembling with worry.
“He’s alive,” I say.
She huffs, then flares her wings and launches herself upward, smashing into another Gore Rock dragon and sending both tumbling away.
Sevrin clings to my shirt, breath hitching. “You’re hurt,” he manages, and I want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“So are you,” I tell him, and I try to lift him, but my side gives out and we both end up sprawled on the ground.
Ebron lowers his head, eyes gold and fierce.We must get you to safety. Your weak human bodies will be destroyed in a dragon fight.
I nod, wiping my face on my sleeve. “Can you carry us? Get us closer to the fortress? I can try to hide with him inside and get him healed.”
Yes. I can do that.
I haul Sevrin onto Ebron’s back using all the strength I can muster. Sevrin groans but doesn’t complain. I climb up after, bracing him with my body as Ebron leaps skyward. The wind whips the blood from our faces, and Sevrin sags against me, alive but barely.
We’re not out of danger. The fortress is on full alert now. Dragons wheel above, riders bristling with lances and swords.I see the glint of crossbow bolts whistling up at us. One skims Ebron’s scales, and he roars in outrage.
“Where are Gareth and the others?” I shout, clinging to Sevrin as we bank hard left.
There!
I look around and spot Gareth, Lucien, and Alaric, each on the ground outside the fortress. They’re standing there for the briefest moment, seeming to take everything in, and then I know they’ve called their dragons to them, because the three fierce females appear.
The men climb up onto their dragons’ backs and fight their way through a swarm of hostile riders. Before long, Gareth’s hair is wild, his sword dripping with blood. Lucien is screaming curses at his opponents, swinging his sword like a madman. And Alaric is just laser focused as his dragon crashes around into the enemy dragons.
“Get us to them!” I yell.
Ebron pumps his wings, surging through the fray. We cut a path through the chaos, dragons veering aside as Ebron roars a challenge. Ahead, I see Gareth spot us. His face flashes with relief, even with a cut streaming blood down his temple.
“Harper!” he bellows, raising his sword. “Is Sevrin…?”
“He needs help.”
Lucien and Alaric close in, flanking us. “They’re everywhere,” Lucien snaps, eyes wild. “We have to get out of here. Now!”
