The explosions thundered closer, coming in quick succession now. The walls shuddered, bits of stone splashing in the well.
Samara’s eyes met Evander’s, and he was struck by how young sixteen is when a child is untouched by war.He had been much older at her age.
He wanted to shake her and say something bracing and Ashkendoric, like “Panic is for the weak!” but he could feel the terror radiating off her, and he realized that wouldn’t help.
What would Valenna do?he asked himself.
She would be gentle. She would demonstrate courage instead of demanding it.
“It’s alright,” Evander said lamely. “We’re safe here.”
It was a lie, but he told it with confidence.
Another explosion, and the water rippled. Samara’s breath whistled, rapid and frantic, but Evander gripped her shoulders. “Breathe with me. Come now …”
“We’re gonna die!” she wailed. “The mountains are going to collapse on us! We’re going to die!”
“No, we’re not. You’re fine,” Evander said. His heart hammered his ribs like a mallet. Debris showered them, and his ears rang. He felt rather than heard the explosions now.Light burst in his peripheral, and he wrapped his arms around Samara and turned her away from the blast as smoking bits of thatch and stone pattered his back.
“I’ve got you,” Evander soothed. “We’re fine. We’re fine.”
“Stop saying that!” Samara shouted.
A fragment of burning wood landed on Samara’s shoulder, but Evander batted it away before it singed her shirt.
“It’s almost over, now. Breathe,” Evander continued. His mind was alight with fear, and he longed to get out of this place. But he held his nerve. Battles were easier than this helpless waiting.
A shop blew apart not ten paces away. Evander clenched his teeth and counted his breaths, focusing on the acrid air sliding in and out of his nose. Samara curled into a tight ball, hugging herself.
And then, like a tide going out, the chaos faded, leaving behind moans and weeping, and the crackling of burning buildings.
Chapter thirty-eight
Evander
“It’s over,” Evander said. “See? Not a hair out of place.”
Samara unwound herself and looked around in dismay.“This is somehow your fault, or your wife’s fault! I should have known not to help you!”
“Calm down,” Evander snapped. The adrenaline set him on edge, and he was irrationally irritated with her, himself, the brightness of the flames. He pulled himself out of the well, then reached down and hauled Samara after him.
Samara’s cheeks flushed.
“Are you hurt?” Evander asked.
“No,” Samara cut. “I need to go find my family.”
She strode away through the smoke, and Evander didn’t chase after her—his legs felt like jelly, and his chest was tight. He cursed himself for being so easily shaken. He’d been to battle. He’d faced ranks of fire-breathing dragons. But he’d sworn that life was behind him, and it was awful now, smelling char, feeling the ground thrum beneath his feet.
Overhead, dragons dove in and out of the darkness, some leveling the last of the shops, others—ridden by the Cobblepinions—crashing into the enemy, only to be hurled from the sky. Few of the Cobblepinions knew how to navigate in combat, and none of the dragons were trained yet to maneuver or attack.
Evander crept back toward the main street and peered out. Sennalaithic soldiers were rounding up the Cobblepinions and herding them toward the lake shore. Very few bodies lay in the streets; the soldiers weren’t killing the villagers. This wasn’t a raid; it was a violent mass conscription. Cadmus didn’t want to destroy the sanctuary; he wanted to get his hands on dragons and able-bodied new soldiers to feed to the constant, grinding war machine.
Footsteps sounded on the cobbles behind Evander, and hands clamped on his shoulders. Two Sennalaithic soldiers stood behind him, armed with shotfires. There was no point in resisting; the enemy controlled the land and the sky, so Evander held up his hands as he was herded with the crowds down to the lake, then sorted into a knot of Cobblepinion youths. Lysander and Samara were among them, along with the other trainees he’d overseen in Silvanlight. He had been right. War had come to Cobblepine.
A pitiful bellow cut through the chaos, and Evander’s head snapped up. He searched the flashing dark until he spotted Hera further down the shore, surrounded by soldiers. They’d managed to loop ropes around her necks and were trying to subdue her, but she shook her head, flinging men across the rocky beach. Moaning, her eyes rolling, she cracked her tail like a whip, striking the two nearest soldiers. They fell bonelessly, their necks snapped.
Twisting, Hera snatched another soldier in her mouth. Blood showered his compatriots as they stood frozen in horror. Like a fox with a squirrel, Hera threw his body into the lake, where he sank out of sight in a red cloud.
