“In the morning, this infernal creature will be gone,” he said over his shoulder.
“But you need him.”
Covington paused, his hand on the doorframe.
“You were trying to get him to flame. You’ve been out here all week, haven’t you?Provokinghim. Not because you want to turn him in. You could have done that when you got that letter.” My eyes fell back to the journal. If Covington walked out of this lair right now, Myth would die. I was certain of it. I had to keep him here, change his mind. “But you want to try to capture his flame. The journal saiduse glass. I guess that’s what that was?” I pointed at the shards scattered across the floor. Desperate, I said, “I can get him to flame. You’ve seen it.”
Like the massive waterwheels on the Granton River, Rushland Covington turned around as if propelled by a force he could not stop.
I waited for him to speak, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
Finally, he said, “If we do this, you can speak of it to no one.”
“Of course.” I had no idea whatthiseven was, but if it meant keeping him silent, I would do it.
He stepped closer. “If I get wind that you are even thinking of telling anyone what we’re doing, Myth dies.”
“I know.” The truth of those words stung, but having the power to silence Covington felt like a victory. I had to know how badly he wanted this. “You tell Headmaster Vaughan or Bryce or your father about my dragon, I’ll tell him about what you did here tonight—about that, too.” I pointed at the journal.
He scoffed and edged closer, forcing me to look up as he loomed over me. “You think your word will mean anything against mine?”
He had a point. I was no more than a copper swin in this world of wealth and power. He’d never get kicked out of school, not with his father’s influence. “I’ll tell your father about what I saw on race day,” I said, desperate to have something to hold over his head, some form of leverage.
“Be my guest,” he said. Then, after a glance at his hand, he spat another curse.
“You’re making a mess.”
“And whose fault is that?”
My brows lifted. “You’re the intruder here.”
He stepped through the door.
“You’re not leaving until you clean this up.”
Whirling, he flashed me a smile. “Giving demands now, are we?”
“Bryce checks our dens every morning to make sure we’re keeping up our duties. I’m not cleaning that up. If you want to explain to Bryce how it got there, be my guest.”
With a heavy sigh, he stepped back through the door, pressing me backward until my heel shattered more glass.“You’re good with a shovel; why don’t you help? Otherwise, I might slip and tell Bryce that the ash on the floor was left by your dragon.”
I’d forgotten about the ash from the burned note.
We worked in silence until the glass was swept and the blood washed away. Covington had torn a strip of fabric from the hem of his shirt and tied it around his palm. By the time we finished, the white fabric was mottled with red.
When we replaced the shovel and broom in the supply room, which smelled of rusty tools and cold stone, Covington turned to me and said in a low tone, “He’s gone the minute I think he might hurt Azeron.”
My eyes narrowed. “How can I trust you not to march straight to your father right now?”
“Grant me access to Myth, help me capture his flame, and I won’t say anything. Your secret for my secret,” he said, a fury in his gaze that stirred a twitch of unease inside me.
I studied his face. It was close. I could punch him if I wanted to. I did want to, but he was the only person who knew the truth about Myth. I shouldn’t make him hate me any more than he did. Only now I had something of his, a secret. Leverage. “That journal means that much to you?”
He was breathing quickly. I’d hit a nerve, and for some reason, it rattled me. This boy who lived above the rules was frightened of being discovered.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” After another beat of silence, I added, “What exactly do you want with Myth’s flame?”
Covington stormed out of the cramped room. “No questions, Miro. We do this my way.”
