“They’re what we callshielded?” She waited for him to nod. “If I’m not shielded, I can’t even get inside. But if I lost contact with the scale while I was in there…” She paled. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t do that.”
“Please do not.”
“What a polite way of requesting I don’t entomb myself in solid stone,” she said dryly, then swayed. “That’s what willhappen, isn’t it? Your home is through there, but only in the shadow world. In the… unshadow world … it’s all rock. If this goes wrong—”
He caught her uninjured arm and pulled her close carefully. “It won’t. I swear it.”
“Me ending up squished beneath a ton of ice would be a waste of you carrying me all this way,” she muttered. Before he could say anything, she pulled the velvet bag from under her dress and slipped the scale out to sit on the palm of her hand.
The first time Julian had seen this scale, he’d had to repress a shudder of horror. The same disgust that peeled at his insides every time he saw the way his power had been misused by Harper and his lackeys, the same itch of helpless dread whenever he was reminded that so much of his magic was being used by others. Stolen. Outside of his control.
But this time, the sight of his scale in Francine’s hand felt … right. Like a little piece of his powershouldbelong to her.
“It has to touch me. I’d only need to drop it, or move so it lost contact with me, and that would be it,” Francine said evenly. Her hand shook. “Maybe like this…”
The scale was attached to a slender gold chain, long enough for it to hang under the curve of her breasts. Francine looped it over her neck several times, so the scale hung at the base of her throat.
The scale shimmered slightly as her pulse beat against the chain.
“Let me check,” Julian said, and swallowed. His throat was suddenly dry.
He ran his fingertips along the chain. He wasn’t touching Francine’s skin, but goosebumps followed the path his fingers took.
“It’s on tight.” His fingertips reached the pendant scale. He tried to slip one finger under it but couldn’t. “Is it comfortable?”
Francine swallowed. Her throat moved beneath his fingers. “Better some slight discomfort than finding myself suddenly taking up the same real estate as a chunk of rock.”
Their eyes met. A jolt of something Julian couldn’t name went down his spine.
Francine’s lips parted. The memory of how soft they were rose like the sun in Julian’s mind. She didn’t need the scale; if he stayed close to her,protectedher…
“I only need to keep this close?” Her voice was husky, and he had to remind himself it was because she was injured, because an unknown cocktail of anti-shifter drugs was coursing through her bloodstream, because she was bleeding and frozen, and the mere fact they were having this conversation instead of carrying her to safety meant he was not doing his duty by her. “That’s the only risk? That I drop it?”
“Or I die.”
Shock flared in her eyes, quickly replaced by something like anger. “What do you mean?”
“Our magic dies with us. When a shadow dragon passes, so does every trace of our existence.”
Francine paled and looked away. “Then you’d better stay alive,” she said, her voice only slightly shaking.
“I intend to.”
“Good.” Her throat moved as she swallowed, and the scale shimmered on its gold chain. “That’s all? We just … step through?”
Julian braced himself and followed her gaze.
The doors that led from the entrance hall to the fortress itself were carved from magic. They never opened; there were no hinges, or locks. Just the appearance of huge obsidian-black doors that turned to mist if you had the power to walk through them.
He couldn’t count the times he’d walked through them. Run. Flown. Got partway and been tripped by his sister, or lain in wait to do the same to her. They’d been so secure in the belief their magic would keep them safe, they’d often behaved as though there were no doors at all. As though all the defenses of the fortress were an open gate they would waltz through at will.
All the defenses hadn’t been enough to save Adria and Hamish.
Where had it happened? Harper had teased him with pieces of the story of his sister and brother-in-law’s deaths. Julian had listened desperately to each gloating snippet, like a starving man eating poison.
They wouldn’t have been killed guarding this or any other entrance. Harper had retold too many details of the interior of the fortress. Adria or Hamish must have welcomed them in—these strangers who claimed to be Julian’s friends…
He swallowed, feeling sick.
