“The Rogons,” she says. “Theirs is a military house through and through, but their honor is legendary. Their father is a good man, Esme. He served King Bemmar loyally for centuries. He would never support a king who took the throne with lies and murder.”
The unspoken part hangs in the air:if he knew the truth.
A flicker of temptation crosses Nyssa’s face. “I need to try to tell him,” she says softly.
A knot forms in my throat. It feels like Nyssa and I have been on opposite sides for so long, but in this moment, the gap between us closes.She’s going to talk to the colonel.Try to plant the seed of doubt. It’s a risk that could easily get her killed.
“Nyssa…” I start, but she cuts me off with a shake of her head.
“I know the risks involved. But I have to try,” she says. “This is my home. My people are about to be led into a war they don’t fully understand, and someone has to be here to… do what can be done.”
I nod stiffly. Strategically, it makes sense. But somehow that doesn’t make it easier to swallow.You’ve gone soft on a dragon, Esme. Never thought you’d see the day.
“We’ll see each other again,” Nyssa promises, her voice thick with an emotion she rarely shows. “I’m sorry it won’t be under better circumstances.”
“Remember this is treason,” I whisper. “Helping the resistance.”
A faint, grim smile touches her lips. “Not if the new king doesn’t hear about it.”
I let out a breath, hoping to every higher power in existence that she will be careful. “Take care of yourself… okay?”
The words hang in the air between us, thin and inadequate. Nyssa offers a tighter smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You too, Esme.”
And then something inside me breaks. A dam I didn’t even know was there, holding back years of discipline, of training myself not to feel, not to care too much. She’s walking back into the heart of the conspiracy, armed with nothing but a desperate hope that one honorable dragon will listen. She’s walking to her probable death.
Before I can think, before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us in two quick steps. My arms reach up, awkward and unsure, and wrap around her shoulders. I pull her into a hug, burying my face against the warm fabric of her uniform. It’s clumsy and hard, not soft at all, but it’s real. My hands fist in the back of her clothing, holding on like she’s the last solid thing in a world that’s dissolving into fire and lies.
For a second, she’s completely rigid, a statue of shocked stillness. Then, slowly, her arms come around me and tighten too.
“The flame of Draethys burns in the righteous,” she whispers against my ear, her voice a small, hopeful thing. “Don’t forget that.”
I want to nod in reassurance. But the trouble is, I’m not sure anyone qualifies as righteous in any of this. We all carry the weight of things we’ve done.
When we pull apart, her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears, and I suspect mine look similar.
But now we’ve said everything we can.
An unspoken pact passes between us—a promise to fight, to survive, to see the other side of this madness, regardless of whose uniform we wear.
She gives me one last, sharp nod, a return to the soldier she’s trained to be. Then she turns and, without a backward glance, melts into the shadows of the city-bound path.
2
BRYNN
Esme turns from the path, her face once again a mask of grim resolve. That brief moment of vulnerability was the second time in a few hours that I’ve seen her get cozy with a dragon. This one was easier to watch than with the dragon-man, but I’m not sure I can handle a third.
Something has definitely changed in my sister.
“Come on,” she says, her voice clipped, emotion locked away behind the layers of Salem discipline. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
“Seems like you have plenty of friends down here,” I murmur, not quite loud enough for her to hear.
We reach the spot where Chad and I first fell into this city, the obsidian landing pad. It still hums faintly with residual magic. The runes flicker around the tunnel’s mouth, but they’re dormant, pale ghosts of the golden light that brought us here.
Esme kneels, tracing the symbols with her fingers. “Do you think this is the same pattern as the Salt Flats?”
I nod. “I think we need to reverse the energy flow.” But Icould use some assistance from my ghostly trio. I’m not sure exactly how to do this.
