The big cat blinks yellow eyes up at her. And Skylar knows—she’s missed something here.
“Iwon’t kill you.” Themuch as I’d like tois implied. “The magic of the Covenant means that, should you refuse to fight, you forfeit your life.” The way he’s looking at her suggests she should have already known this.
And slowly, she realizes what he’s saying. Panic spirals. If she only has weeks left to live, wouldn’t she rather be somewhere else? She could still try to escape. Already, that pressure is building, the reckless side of her she has to keep in check crackling under her skin. Axel is watching her, like he can sense this. She takes a calming breath.
She has nowhere to go. Even if she gets out of here, it’s not like she would want to find Aldric again, is it? The only person she’d want to spend her last days with is Cam. And Cam is gone. Taken to some army camp, Arach only knows where.
Although, it’s not only Arach, is it?
“If I do this,” she says slowly, thinking, “then I want a favor.”
“You want afavor?” He says it like he doesn’t understand the word. The Shifter blinks again, bleeding leg still held off the floor.
“Yeah. You want me to fight to the death for a kingdom I don’t give two shits about, I’m pretty sure I’m owed a favor.” He doesn’t say anything, so she plows on. “I want to know where the conscripts are taken.” Is it her, or does the Shifter go very still at this?
“Taken?”
“Yes, taken,” she snaps. “By your people. For the army.” Againnothing. “So…” She wets her lips, now doubting herself. “If you find that out for me, I’ll stay. I’ll even try to win.”
He gives her a calculating look. “You’ll try to win if you value your own life.”
“Who says I value it?” she asks quietly.
You don’t want to die, Lar.
He doesn’t know that, does he?
He looks at her for another long second, then shakes his head. “Enough of this. I’m not in charge of conscription, I can’t help you.” She wonders briefly what heisin charge of.
“But even if you could, you wouldn’t?” she asks bitterly.
“Something like that. Now, are you walking, or do I have to drag you to the ceremony?”
She holds her head high as she stalks past him. She shouldn’t have said anything. She’s given too much away, hasn’t she? And what if he tells the king that she’s looking for someone? He’d drag Cam from the camps and kill him in front of her, just to prove a point.
She walks through the door at the end of the corridor, the Shifter limping behind. She wonders what they’d do if she tried to fight again. Wonders if the Shifter has orders to maim but not kill her. It doesn’t matter, though. Because she’s made her choice.
If she has six weeks left to live, then there’s only one thing she wants to be doing. Which means the castle is the place for her—because, even if Axel is telling the truth and he doesn’t know anything about conscription,someonehere does.
I’ll find you before my time is up, I promise, she tells Cam silently.So don’t give up before then, okay?
And she hears the glimmer of his voice, stronger this time, almost like it’s a real Projection, like he’s really heard her.
I’ll never give up on you, Lar.
Axel leads her down to the grounds. She knows when they reach the right place because of the crowd gathered. They’re on the cliff edge, the ocean stretching out beneath them. The castle looms at her back,and dry grass crunches underfoot. She tastes salt on the air, hears the crashing of waves. She expected the ceremony to take place in the same hall she was dragged into last night—but realizes why it’s not pretty quickly.
Because of the dragons. All three of them, right there in front of her. She stumbles at the sight of them, their shadows looming over the crowd. At her side, Axel grips her arm—his favorite thing to do, apparently—and urges her forward. She glares at him. He ignores her.
Bruma, the king’s dragon, with scales an icy blue, lets out a low growl as she nears, and she feels the air temperature drop several degrees. Nerves prickle her neck as she remembers the man she saw him kill.
He won’t kill you, Lar.
Well, let’s hope Cam is right about that.
Next to Bruma, sunlight bounces off a smaller dragon, scales a bright white. Ziva, she presumes—a Solar Celestial, the power of light at her command. The queen’s dragon. It was a topic of gossip around the country to learn that the queen, the only person of nonroyal blood to ever have been allowed to attempt the island, came back with a Celestial dragon. Presumably because of her mate bond.
And there, bigger than both of them, is Mjolnir. He looks at her, blinking his huge violet eyes. She finds her breath catching as she wonders if he’ll speak to her again, if he’ll give her some clue as to why he intervened yesterday. Because he somehow knew that she was the heir—before everyone else did? If that was the case, why only him—why not the other two?
