My heart beats rapidly, matching the cadence of Ezryn’s massivepaws as he pounds through the snow. His deep breaths rumble through me as I clutch his fur, squeezing my legs tight around him so as not to fall off. Kel bounds beside us, Caspian riding on his back, while Dayton and Farron flank in their wolf forms.
I’m so concentrated on the great plumes of smoke puffing out of the volcano, I could almost ignore how different Kel looks from the other princes. Now, with Ezryn’s curse broken, he, Farron, and Dayton radiate with majesty. Their wolves bloom with bright colors—Ezryn’s fur woven with plants, Dayton’s with coral and seashells, and Farron’s with leaves—but Kel’s beast is as menacing as ever. Sharp, jagged icicles jut from his body, glinting in the sunlight.
Just when I thought we were safe, when things were looking brighter, this has to happen. Farron pulls in front, leading us up the slope of the volcano. The acrid scent of sulfur assaults my nose. I’ve never been near a volcano before, but Papa climbed Pacaya years ago in his search for Mom. Something about thissmoke, this smell, seems so different from what he described in his stories. Different…and unnatural.
It doesn’t make sense. Dayton and Farron were here only weeks ago. They had nothing of interest to report, no signs of Rhuvenmark waking up.
I clutch Ezryn’s silky black fur tighter as we begin the ascent. The wolves are so strong, they bound up the side of the mountain with great leaps.
“Come on! This way,” Farron calls. “Just around these rocks, there’s a path inside the volcano. We can see what’s going on.”
We stop on a rocky ledge before a dark tunnel leading within the mountain. Cas and I slip off our steeds, and the princes shift back into their fae forms. I pull out their cold-weather clothing and Ezryn’s helm I’d stored in my pack.
The six of us stand before the jagged entrance. “Are we sure it’s safe to go in?” I ask.
“This volcano has been dormant for thousands of years,” Kel says. “There’s no possibility it suddenly became active. Something else is going on.”
“Well, whatever it is, it stinks.” Dayton grins. “So let’s stop it before it drifts over to Frostfang and your whole keep reeks like a goblin’s breakfast came back up.”
Caspian steps forward slowly, ever so slowly. “I’ve smelled goblin’s breakfasts—up and down, for what it’s worth—and this is something far worse.” He turns to us, purple eyes shining. “There’s ancient magic on the winds.”
“Then even more of a need to stop whatever it is.” Kel pushes in front of Caspian.
Ezryn follows behind, and Dayton and Farron fall into step. I look at Cas and shrug before trailing after Farron.
“Careful, Rosie,” Cas says lowly. “I don’t like this.”
Heat engulfs me as I walk into the narrow path. The air is so thick with sulfur and ash, each breath claws at my throat. Ican barely see anything except for Farron right ahead of me; his voice calls out to Kel, directing him to the heart of the volcano. The track is tight, black rock walls and a low rocky ceiling surrounding us. A flickering orange silhouette surrounds Farron as we get closer. The ground hums with a deep rumble, broken by sharp hisses and cracks. My mind conjures the image of a slumbering dragon surrounded by gold.
The path widens, and Farron, Day, and I step in line with Kel and Ez. I cast a look over my shoulder to see Cas trailing behind. There’s a monstrous opening, all jagged stone and bright orange light, as if we truly are entering the mouth of a dragon. A roiling sound pops and gurgles.A dragon with indigestion?
We press forward. Beads of sweat trail down my spine, and I wish I wasn’t dressed in so many layers. As we step into the mouth of the cavern, I see we have reached the volcano’s heart. We stand at the cusp of a bridge carved from blackened stone. It stretches across a chasm, filled with churning?—
“Are dormant volcanoes supposed to have lava?” I squeak.
Kel’s focused on the sea of fire below us. “It’s not possible…” Then his eyes dart up, and I follow his gaze.
Along the bridge, at the narrowest point above the gully, five people stand, bathed in red light.
Aquila, the priestess. Faustrius, his antlers swaying with torn pieces of cloth. The traitor, Perth Quellos, his bald head slick with sweat. Sira, looking like the goddess of this volcano, her body draped in ribbons of smoky fabric, eyes caked in kohl.
And between them all, on his knees, clad in his heavy black armor and helm but tied up in chains…
Kairyn.
Visceral fear flares through me; my stomach churns with nausea, and for a second, I worry I might pass out. I can’t catch my breath, the air in here so thick with smoke and sulfur. Isqueeze my eyes shut and dig my nails into my palms to focus my mind.
This isn’t my fear.
It’s Caspian’s.
I glance to see him sinking back into the shadows of the pathway. Good. I need to know he’s safe, away from her.
Because I don’t have time for fear. I don’t have room in my body for anything but complete and utter hatred.
I step forward ahead of the princes.
Sira’s gaze shifts from surprise to satisfaction. “Well, well, well, look what the wind?—”
