Rachel returns her glare. “I am.”
Catalina’s eyes narrow. “Can anyone verify that?”
“I can,” Mother Solas says, her grip on her blade unwavering.
“And you are?” Catalina asks.
Mother Solas’s lips twitch upward, and for an instant, I glimpse the power she keeps hidden. Not magical power. It’s the power that comes from knowing herself.
“Myname is Isabella Solas,” she says. “I believe your Queen was named in my honor.”
When Catalina’s eyes only narrow further, Mother Solas continues. “Your Isabella was born and named five days before Malak took control of this city. The last communication I received from outside these walls was from her parents. They told me how happy they were and how they hoped she would grow to have the strength and wisdom of her namesake. I have their letter still.”
Catalina’s guard finally seems to lower, but she doesn’t appear any less wary.
She takes her eyes off the women to look at her dragon, who edges forward, its focus on Mother Solas and Rachel. Its nostrils flare as it inhales so deeply that the air shifts around me.
It speaks in a distinctly male voice when it says, “They have the blood of the Solas royal line. I can smell it.”
At that, the two riders who were closest to Catalina also step forward. One of them is male, tall and lean, while the other is female with blonde hair—an unusual color, at least among the humans in this city, whose hair is predominantly brown.
They circle in close beside Catalina, speaking in such low murmurs that without my wolf’s hearing, I wouldn’t be able to pick up what they say.
The man speaks first. “If these women are of the Solas royal line, we can’t afford to antagonize them.”
“We need them,” the woman with the blonde hair says bluntly. “Not only them but every human in this city capable of fighting the fae. And damn, you have to admit, the way they hid in the ash was a little impressive.”
“More than a little,” the man says. “We need fighters like that.”
“Desperately,” Catalina finishes, speaking the single word in a hushed exhalation.
She turns back to Rachel and Mother Solas, takes a deep breath, and then gives her gloved hand a flick, at which her weapon fully retracts.
The other dragon riders follow suit, all of them putting away their weapons and folding their arms across their chests. It seems that’s their way of indicating they aren’t going to attack.
Catalina presses her lips together and gives her shoulders a little roll as if she’s recalibrating before she steps forward again, this time with her hands raised, palms out.
“I apologize for the tone of our initial greeting,” she says. “But we weren’t sure what we would encounter, and we had to be cautious.” Her focus flickers to me. “Setting aside the situation with the Vandawolf, we didn’t come here for a fight.”
She points to the sky before she continues. “It’s important that you understand: this land has turned. It has reached its tipping point, just like the land in the east did. You can’t stay here any longer. You have to come with us?—”
Petra snaps back. “You can’t make us leave our homes. We’ve fought too hard for them.”
Unlike the other women, whose daggers have lowered, her crossbow hasn’t wavered. All she needs is a spark and she could kill every human in this clearing, although the dragons would most likely survive. And kill her in retaliation.
But it seems Petra isn’t alone in her view of the situation.
Councilor Genova also speaks up. “Youdon’t understand,” she says to Catalina. “For the last week, we’ve fought a war within these city walls. We brought down the tyrants who would have subjugated us once more. We are finally free from the hatred of the past. We won’t give up our freedom without a fight.”
My eyes widen at what she said.
They fought a war against tyrants.
If the fight was against Petra’s own father and his allies, then it would have been particularly painful for her. The tear sliding down her cheek and the press of her lips tell me it was.
“We have no wish to make you give up your freedom,” Catalina says, her tone placating. “We can offer you new homes. A new life. Simply in a new place.” She looks at the sky. “But if you stay, your fight won’t be with us. It will be with the beasts that won’t stop coming.”
The crimson dragon speaks up from behind her, its voice a deep rumble. “We have witnessed the devastation in the east. Whole cities were razed to the ground. Endless dust storms. Blood-rain that clogs the air when the dust doesn’t. Even if you can hold back the monsters for a time, the soil will sicken, and illness will spread. Very soon, you won’t be able to breathe. It will take your children first, and then it won’t stop.”
