She’d gotten what she needed from him, and now she had a door to get through.
When they caught up to the group, Virgil was the first one to greet her, arms crossed and lips pursed in a way that was almost comical. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.” He threw Sidraeus a narrow-eyed look as Vivyan drew her captive past him. To Emory he said: “You know I would have come with you if you’d asked me, right?”
Emory’s heart went out to him. “I know,” she said, squeezinghis arm in a gesture she hoped conveyed how sorry she was to have left without saying anything, and how much she valued his friendship—especially as she spotted Romie looking at her with a guarded expression. Giving Virgil one last squeeze, Emory went over to her.
“Glad to see you went through with it,” Romie said. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually turn on him.”
The iciness in her tone sliced as much as the words themselves. Even after all this, Romie’s wariness about her remained. Emory felt unmoored, wondering if there was anything left to save or if she’d destroyed their friendship beyond repair. Maybe it had always been doomed to come to this, the nature of their magics pitting them against each other in some predestined way. A key, a Tidecaller. Atheia, Sidraeus.
“I’m on your side, Ro. That’s never going to change, even ifI’vechanged. Even ifwe’vechanged. I know I’ve hurt you, but I’m trying here, I really am.”
Romie softened at that, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. She gave Emory a wobbly smile. “Things were so much easier before, weren’t they? I wish we could go back.”
It was so very Romie to want to hold on tight to who they’d been, the version of themselves that existed in a perfect bubble, thinking it would make it easier to face the hard things. But the bubble had burst a long time ago. They were no longer those people, and Emory didn’t want to be.
She thought of what Sidraeus had told her. That when forced to live in the dark, he’d had no choice but to become the darkness itself. Maybe that’s what Emory had done. She’d been molded by darkness, and some of it had taken root inside her. Maybe it had always been there, waiting to be let out. Whatever the case, that darkness—her selfishness, her hunger for power—didn’t mean she was beyond forgiveness.
All she could do was be her best self, darkness and all, and hope that was enough for the people who loved her. True friendship would survive such darkness.
She just wasn’t sure Romie saw it that way.
64ROMIE
THE SUNFORGE WAS BUILT ATthe very base of the looming volcano. Ivayne and Vivyan told them it was known to erupt sporadically over the years, and Romie only hoped it wouldn’t do so while they found their way inside.
A large arched doorway was built into the jagged rocks, its carved columns intricately wrought, with threads of gold running through them and etchings of eldritch beasts and dragons in flight. The archway was big enough to accommodate a dragon, but Gwenhael did not follow them into the Sunforge. It chose instead to remain with the Golden Helm draconics, who, after taking care of the Fellowship, would lead Gwenhael back to freedom—and to other dragons.
Romie expected scorching heat as they trod carefully inside the mountain. They found themselves in a gigantic cave, with columns like the ones outside lining a path that cut deeper into the darkness. Rivers of steaming water ran through the ground they walked on. In some places, geysers shot water and steam upinto the air, as if warning them of what lay beyond.
“There is death here,” Vivyan said eerily. “I can feel it.”
The words made Romie’s spine tingle. But allshecould feel was that song tugging inside her, beckoning her on.So close, it seemed to say, brimming with excitement that warred with the dread that permeated this place.
But the draconic was right: death did await them, in the form of a mound of bones.
A carcass. That of a colossal dragon that must have been twice the size of Gwenhael.
Ivayne and Vivyan fell to their knees, looking utterly heartbroken. “We thought, at the very least, that the Sunforge would be a haven for dragons,” Vivyan said. “Instead it is a graveyard.”
“What do you think happened to it?” Tol asked, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Maybe it died guardingthis.”
Ivayne motioned to the wall of smooth, black rock behind the carcass. It formed a natural arch and was flanked by two steaming, roiling geysers. The rock was shot through with veins of fire, as if on the other side of it were the fiery belly of the volcano itself.
Romie spotted the golden spiral etched in the middle of the arch.
The door to the fourth world.
Tol stepped up to it as if in a trance, called no doubt by the same song in Romie’s blood. Aspen grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Something loaded passed between them.
“The sacrifice,” Emory said, face blanching. “How are we going to get the door open without Tol giving up his heart?”
As if she’djustnow emerged from whatever dark hole she let herself sink into to ask herself this. Romie shouldn’t have been surprised.
Tol squared his shoulders as he faced the door, fingers searching along the groove at the center of the spiral. It was shaped likea heart, the same way the Wychwood’s door had had a place in which to fit Aspen’s bone.
“If I have to risk my life to bring back the many-faced goddess and stop the worlds from dying, then I will gladly give up my heart.”
