“It was playing with me,” I whispered. “It wanted to feed slowly.”
The metal in my palm was ice cold, but that was the least of our concerns. We'd learned that these tests weren't meant to challenge us, they were meant to consume us.
“My turn, wife.” His voice held deadly calm. “You're not getting hurt again.”
If he could, he’d wrap me in sikeen to protect me from all harm. The only problem was that bad people still knew how to yank the fabric from my grip.
“Alright. You can have this one. But we’re taking turns.”
He growled but said nothing further.
We strode over to stand in front of Aer’Quilith. Different in shape than the others, the air dragon had no clear mouth. Only a deep funnel down its throat. The key hovered inside, balancedmid-air. Lore casually reached for it as if he wasn't worried about whatever the wind beast might have to offer.
The moment his hand passed the outer portion of the maw, a growl erupted from the dragon, vibrating through my bones.
Wind screamed up the dragon’s throat, slamming Lore into the nearest wall.
I dropped low, my hair whipped back from my face. As soon as the wind stopped, I dragged myself to where Lore crouched, glaring at the room in general.
Farris slunk across the floor with his ears pinned flat, joining us. His shadow detached from his paws, slithering to the door, pausing to peer back at us. I didn’t have time to figure out what that meant.
“Are you hurt?” I asked Lore, running my hands over his body. Why hadn't I been gifted with healing magic? Then I could use it on him.
“I'm not hurt,” he grated out. Reaching up, he stroked my cheek. “I should've guessed how the air dragon would respond.”
At least we were learning.
“Let’s do the next together,” I said. “Then we can help each other.”
“Wise as always, Wildfire.”
“Aquatic guardian?” I asked, and he nodded, rising to his feet.
Ral'Asteir loomed in front of us, its scales the color of storm clouds. Unlike the others, this guardian wept, a constant stream trickling from its eyes down to the corroded metal resting on its tongue.
“Something's not right about this one.” Tilting my head, I studied the yellowed water pooling in the fountain but couldn’t determine what the oily sheen on the top might be.
Farris whined and backed away, his fur standing on end.
“The water's poisoned,” Lore said, his voice tight. “I can smell the toxins.”
But we needed that key. I pulled a dagger and extended it toward the dragon's mouth, planning to hook the corroded key without touching the tainted stream.
The moment my blade broke the plane of the dragon's jaw, the weeping stopped. The creature's eyes snapped open—real eyes, not carved stone—and fixed on me with rabid hunger.
“Move.” Lore urged me aside as the dragon's mouth unhinged like a serpent's. Poisoned water erupted in a pressurized torrent, striking the wall behind where I'd been standing. Stone hissed and bubbled where the liquid hit.
The fountain overflowed with the toxic flood. Wherever it touched the floor, the stone began to dissolve.
“The water will eat through our boots.” Lore grabbed my hand, pulling me toward higher ground near the door.
But the dragon wasn't finished. Its neck twisted, its eyes tracking our movement. It shot another geyser of poison toward us. I flitted us to the side, but droplets splattered my sleeve. The leather smoldered.
Farris howled from his perch on a pedestal, and his shadow stretched toward the dragon, not away from it. The darkness touched the poisoned pool, and where they met, the toxic water turned clear.
“Farris can neutralize it,” I breathed.
Lore's grip on my hand tightened. “We won't risk him.”
