Nash made some comically heavy-breathing sounds. “If I had to use my dirty talk on you, we wouldn’t bepretending right now.”
This time my palm slammed over my own face. I groaned.
“Good one,” he whispered, then went right back to his theatrical panting.
Chapter 55
My boots clicked against the stone steps as I climbed, careful not to spill the steaming coffee sloshing near the rim of my mug. At the top, I pressed my shoulder into the heavy iron door until it gave with a groan and stepped onto the rooftop.
Laney was already there, standing at the parapet, her figure framed against the pale morning sky. My fingers clenched around the warm ceramic of my favorite mug as the door slammed shut behind me.
The wind howled across the rooftop, tugging at her long curls and whipping them across her back. The winter leathers she wore caught the sunlight, the sheen making her look ethereal.
I forced my feet forward, each step dragging against the stone. “Good morning, Laney. What are you doing up here?”
She turned only partway, showing me the edge of her face but never quite meeting my gaze. Her arms hung stiffly at her sides, her whole body wound tight as a bowstring.
“You can’t trust him.”
Her voice was flat and hollow—like it didn’t come from her at all, but from the wind itself. My hands shook so violently the coffee sloshed over the rim, scalding my skin. I barely noticed.
“Trust who, Laney? Trust who?” My voice cracked as I inched closer.
The wind howled, sweeping strands of hair across my face. The air tasted like iron, sharp and wrong. My lungs burned as I held my breath, waiting. Waiting for her to answer.
“He is not on our side,” she hissed.
Then she climbed onto the parapet, her movements stiff, unnatural—and stepped over the ledge.
The sound of my scream tangled with the sharp crack of my mug shattering against the stone rooftop.
Warning bells yanked me from sleep.
I reached out to shove Rhodes awake, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. The sky outside was pitch-black, the kind of darkness that meant this alert was nothing friendly. I jumped out of bed and yanked on a set of leathers. The stone floor bit at my bare feet with cold. I sheathed my sword and daggers.
“What’s going on?” I asked Lakota, sensing he was awake too.
“Tyria has broken through the wards. I’m on my way to the front line now.”
I stormed out of the hut and was immediately swept into a surge of soldiers. Doryan’s voice thundered over the din, barking orders and driving men and women to their stations. An explosion erupted on a southern peak, hurling rubble through the air and clattering across the hut roofs. I ducked, shielding my head.
I coughed as dust rained down. The warning bells shrieked even louder, echoing off the cliffs. My heart hammered in my chest.I checked themarekem, but Fallon’s mental gates were up—I couldn’t reach her.
So I tried Lakota instead. “Where is Rhodes?”
“Noemi is in the skies. But no rider. He must be in battle.”
No.No, no, no.
I ran.
I shoved into the stream of soldiers, pushing against the press of bodies. Panic clawed at my throat.
“Rhodes!” Chaos swallowed my scream.
I ran toward the dragons—toward the lines of fire raining down from the sky. The screams grew louder as I sprinted past soldiers rushing in the opposite direction. I reached for Fallon again—not just to communicate, but to find her. A gravitational pull surged through themarekem, guiding me forward.
I vaulted over a splintered wheelbarrow abandoned in the path. Lakota’s red-scaled belly swept into view above the ridge to my left, soaring low over the cliffs. I was one step from the swinging bridge when hands clamped down on my shoulders, yanking me aside.
