Hera didn’t care. She blundered over the sand toward the manor ruins, toward the last remaining Sennalaithic troops trapped in the crossfire. She bellowed boiling spouts of water, and steam rose around her, covering the field.
“Evander!” Valenna screamed. “Where are you?”
Mad with fear, Valenna ran toward the place where the Dread Five dragon crashed, her cutlass in her hand. A retreating Ashkendoric soldier intercepted her, raising a heavy battle axe over his head. Valenna ducked under the blow and darted behind him, slicing her cutlass into his side. He fell sideways, and she turned in time to dodge a bayonet from a second man. Pulling her shotfire from her belt, she fired it at her attacker and he stumbled back, blood spilling from his leg.
A third man bore down on her, a shotfire pointed at her head. She dodged, the shot whistling past her ear. The man lunged, his bayonet flashing, but before he reached her, a blade thrust through his ribs. He fell dead.
Evander stood behind him, a bloody cutlass in his hand.
Valenna ran to him. His arm was sticky with blood, his cheek gashed. He reached for her, caught her arm, and pulled her against his body. He pressed his lips to hers, then broke away, his eyes scanning her.
“You alright?” he rasped.
“You’re hurt!” she cried. “You’re bleeding!”
Valenna’s fingers fumbled with the clasps on his jacket, but Samara bounded up and caught her arm.
“Hera!” Samara shouted, pointing toward the manor. “There’s artillery still beyond the house! They’ll kill her!”
“Would they?” Valenna asked. “Kill a hydra?”
“If she’s about to decimate them!” Samara replied.
Evander’s jaw set. He drew Valenna close, kissed her feverishly, then sprinted toward the ruin. Toward Hera.
“Wait!” Valenna called after him. But he disappeared behind the crumbled wall.
Overhead, Raska circled, a vulture awaiting her prey.
Chapter fifty-seven
Evander
A thunderous roar rippled over the battlefield. Evander felt it in his gut, like a mother hearing her child’s cries.
He vaulted over the wall behind the ruined manor, then scrambled over the smoking rubble toward Hera. Every step jostled his shoulder, and pain burned down his arm.
He passed Cadmus, huddled against a pile of stones, swearing to himself.
“HERA!” Evander shouted, making for a dark bulk in the steam. “Come to me! Come to me!”
She reared on her hind legs, spewing boiling water. Evander ducked, narrowly avoiding being burned. Her tail cracked a blackened wall.
“HERA!” Evander shouted. “COME!”
She paused, and her right head turned toward him. Then the left. The center head tore one of the dragon willows up by the roots and flung it into the wall.
Undeterred, Evander reached both hands toward his hydra.
“It’s alright, my love,” he soothed. “I’m here.”
Hera’s center head lowered. She turned her blood-streaked body, and, with a whimper like a frightened kitten, she melted at his feet. All three of her heads together gazed at Evander with love and misery. His heart broke. He was so selfish, taking this wild, gentle creature into this horror. He should have sent her hometo the sea years ago. He never should have kept her. A tear stung his gashed cheek.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice broke as he lay his forehead against her brow. “I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”
Her center head closed its eyes; a shudder ran down her spine.
“Go, Hera,” he said, sheathing his cutlass and using his knife to cut away the muzzle and the spiked harness. “Go home to the sea. You don’t belong here. I can’t protect you from war anymore.”
