“You see?” Bob said as she doubled over, panting as she clutched her rounded belly. “I was right.”
“Shut up,” Svena snarled, glaring at him. “I can see now why my sister hated you, but it matters not.” She tapped her fingers on her pregnant stomach. “We both know I’m the only expecting dragoness in the world right now. My eggs will be the first to hatch since Estella’s death. That means mydaughter will be the next seer, and I swear, Brohomir, as soon as she is born, I will teach her to hate you. Together, we will ruin your every plot, disrupt your every effort purely for the joy of seeing youfail.” She straightened up with a haughty look. “When we are done, you will wish I had killed you here as you killed her.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “But there’s an old saying about counting your chickens before they hatch, Svena.”
“You’re one to talk about chickens, feathered snake,” she growled, her white-blond hair whipping in the wind as a swirl of snow kicked up around her. “But I think I’ve coddled these eggs enough. When I see you again, I’ll have a seer of my own at my side, and the first thing I’ll teach her is how to pluck a Heartstriker.”
“Looking forward to it,” Bob said, but his heart wasn’t in it. Svena was already gone in any case, vanishing in a storm of ice and fury to go lay her eggs in a fit of vengeance for her lost friend. Depressing as that picture was, though, Bob was glad Svena had her anger to carry her through. Having someone to hate undoubtedly felt better than the dull ache in his own chest as he carried Amelia’s flickering fire—which he’d kept safe in his hands throughout the fight—out of her room and down the countless stairs to the very bottom of the mountain.
As foreseen, the Fs’ quarters were empty. A quick glance at the future revealed that they’d all taken a page from Chelsie and skipped town, barreling into the sky to enjoy their newfound freedom the second the news of their release came down. He’d be alone here for six hours at least, more than enough time, but that didn’t stop Bob from walking quickly down the corridor, passing Amelia’s fire to one hand as he set to work on Chelsie’s door.
Even knowing exactly where to press, it still took forever to get through all of his rightfully paranoid little sister’s locks and wards. Finally, the last lock clicked, and he stepped into the bunker that had served as Chelsie’s fortress of solitude since she’d first come home from China all those centuries ago. It was just as small as he remembered, but Bob hadn’t been here personally in ages, which was why he’d left himself plenty of time to search. Time, it turned out, he did not need. True to form, Chelsie had left his target on display, nestled in a place of honor at the heart of what passed for her treasury.
Carefully, painstakingly, Bob popped the lock and removed the rainbow-hued dragon egg from its heated box. Most eggs rattled when you touched them, the tiny whelp inside alert to danger even before it knew what danger was. But this egg was still when his arm closed around it, the fragile life inside still pulsing softly only because Chelsie was too stubborn to let it die.
Balancing the egg in one hand and Amelia’s fire in the other, Bob sank to the floor. He placed the too-quiet egg in his lap, making sure it was snugly tucked against his body heat before pressing the hand that still cradled the last flicker of Amelia’s life into the leathery shell. The egg absorbed the flame at once, and a second later, something inside it began to shake as the old dragon’s fire sparked the new.
Once caught, the flame spread quickly, and the egg began to grow warmer. Having watched his own mother do this eight times now, Bob knew how to help it along, blowing little puffs of his own flame across its rainbow surface until the shell glowed red. Finally, when the egg was so hot it was singeing his clothes, a crack appeared on the surface as a tiny claw broke free, clutching the wall of the egg that had been its prison for far, far too long.
“There you go,” Bob said, using his hands to help it break through the old, leathery shell. “There you are, my beauty.”
The baby dragon cheeped, moving her blind, shaky, down-covered head toward the sound of his voice, growing steadier on her spindly little legs as she opened her lids at last to look up at him with eyes as beautiful and bright as golden coins.
“Hello, darling,” he whispered, mindful of her baby fangs as he reached down to gently stroke her downy nose. “Happy extremely belated birthday. My name is Bob. Remember it, because you and I are going to be the very best of enemies.”
The tiny dragon chirped in confusion, blinking her golden eyes as Bob stood up, lifting her out of the remains of her egg before tucking her into his coat. When she was safely pressed against his chest, he kissed her little nose and held out his arm for his pigeon, who’d been silently following this entire time. When she flew down to perch on his wrist, he turned and carried both of his girls out of the room, out of the basement sanctuary Chelsie had made for her Fs, and out of the mountain altogether, stealing into the desert like a thief with a Nameless End on his shoulder and the first dragoness hatched since the death of Estella, his very own little seer, hidden inside his coat.
Epilogue
When Marci woke, she was alone in the dark.
She blinked rapidly, looking around in confusion, but there was nothing. She couldn’t even see herself. Just the dark, a lightless void so deep and unrelenting, she had to close her eyes again. Not that it helped.
“Ghost?”
I’m here,the spirit said, but his voice in her head sounded odd, like he was shouting from across a chasm.
“Why do you sound so far away?”
Because you’re not in my domain,he said, his distant voice frustrated.You’re dead, but you’re not forgotten.
Marci nodded. “So how do I get to you?”
You can’t.Not unless we wait until everyone who remembers dies as well. It wouldn’t be too bad if it were only humans, they forget easily. But that dragon will remember you forever, and dragons live a very long time.
He said that like it was a problem, but Marci refused to feel bad about the fact that Julius would remember her forever. “We’ll just have to try something different, then,” she said, peering around at the dark, the only thing there was to look at. “Let’s start with where I am. I mean, I understand that I’m dead, but I have no intention of staying that way.” She was going to get out of here, and then she was going to get back home to Julius. Therehadto be a way. What was the point of dying to become a Merlin if she couldn’t go back and actually be one? And speaking of, “I thought you said the path to being a Merlin was just on the other side?”
It is,Ghost said angrily.I’m actually standing right next to it, but I can’t see you. Don’t worry, though. I won’t let you go.
Something moved in the dark as he said that, and Marci had the odd sensation of a hand tightening inside her head. Under any other circumstance, that would have been creepy as all get out. Right now, though, it was very comforting to know someone had a grip on things. It also gave her an idea. “Do you think you could yank me over there like you yanked me out of my body?”
What do you think I’ve been trying to do?I’ve been pulling since I heard your voice, but it’s not working. The only reason I can touch you at all is because of our bond, but it wasn’t meant to be used like this. If I pull too hard, it will snap.
“Crud,” she muttered, taking an experimental step forward.
This was a very bad idea. Now that she was trying to move, it became obvious that she wasn’t just blind from the dark. There really was nothing there, no ground under her feet, no sensation of movement, not even the feel of her own body. There was no pain, no pleasure, no sensation of any kind. Just her thoughts and the endless, fathomless, empty dark.
“Ghost?”
