A once-in-a-millennium power.
“I see the humility didn’t last long.”
He grins, tugging on her ponytail, and her stomach flips at the casual action. “What’s your Gift?”
Heat rushes to her cheeks. She hadn’t expected him to ask her so brazenly, and she has no lie prepared. “Why do you ask?”
His eyes narrow slightly. “No reason,” he eventually says. “I better go. It was wonderful Teleporting with you again, Dimples.”
“No it wasn’t. I hate it.”
“Too bad”—he winks at her—“because I’ve decided I love it.”
28Skylar
She is a dragon heir with no dragon.
She is an Exhauster.
She is screwed.
“Skylar?” Axel’s voice is quiet—almost careful. She can’t bring herself to look at him, as the carriage comes to a stop inside the castle gates. They’ve not spoken since he carried her to the boat.Carriedher, like some sort of invalid. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking, or whether he’s using his power to keep her calm so they can lock her up the moment she steps foot inside the stone fortress.
You are not Blooded, Skylar.
A warning, from her mother—because she knew she would be condemned for being what she is. And her mother must have sensed it in her, something dark, lurking under her skin. Her mother was an Exhauster, too. Skylar saw her once, pulling the last trace of life from a cut flower, watched from the doorway as it shriveled and died. Her mother stared at it with an expression of such sadness that Skylar ran back to her room, knowing she’d seen something she shouldn’t. Her mother never used her power again, to Skylar’s knowledge, but she’d always assumed that was why they lived the way they did, always wary of who might come after them.
Did the king know what her mother was when he slept with her? She feels sure he can’t have. Otherwise she’d have been killed long before Skylar was born—or else locked in chains, like the executioner.
When she doesn’t say anything, Axel leans around her to open the carriage door. She stares out at the castle grounds. She doesn’t wantto get out. She doesn’t want to be locked up, until she has to duel. But where else can she go?
Then she feels it, that sizzle of electricity—and Zryan appears out of nowhere. He looks between Skylar and Axel. Axel gives Skylar a gentle nudge, forcing her out.
“A Dreki told me you were back,” Zryan says carefully. “But he didn’t say…”
Skylar can’t bear to have this conversation. Instead she looks at the sun, wonders whether its fire would be hot enough to burn away her darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Axel give a slow shake of his head, then pull Zryan to the side. She hears the word, murmured between them: “Exhauster.” She turns her back on them. They can’t kill her for this—not yet, not if the wording of the Covenant forbids it. But they will force her to use it, like they force the executioner. And then, maybe, they’ll use it as an excuse to kill her, once the duel is done. If that wasn’t their plan already.
She walks farther from the carriage. There is no sign of the king and queen, but there is someone else walking across the grounds, a little black cat at her heels, one of her guards a few steps behind.
Astrid runs her gaze up Skylar’s body as she approaches—an obvious assessment. Did she feel what Skylar felt, on the island? And her healing potions wouldn’t have helped her, would they? She would have been forced to bear the pain with Skylar, unable to do anything about it. She wonders, too, for the first time, how she looks. From the way Astrid is considering her, she’d guess not good. Her hair is matted from salt water and sweat, she has cuts over every inch of her from the shards of ice, bruises from where she’s fallen—and she’s pretty sure she has multiple burns from where she didn’t quite outrun the lava.
Skylar raises her eyebrows as Astrid finishes her inspection. “Come to gloat?” After all, this is Astrid’s best-case scenario, isn’t it? Her alive but with no dragon.
Astrid exchanges a brief look with her cat—one that makes Skylar question whether Astrid already knew about Skylar’s lack of dragon. Then Astrid’s blue gaze flicks to Skylar’s. “I came to check if you are okay.” The words are quiet—and sincere.
Skylar closes her eyes against them. “I’m okay,” she says. She’s not. She’s not even close.
“What happened to you there?” Astrid murmurs. “I felt like you might be done for a couple of times.”
Skylar opens her eyes, and doesn’t miss the look Bastet gives Astrid. News to him, then? “Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime over cocktails.” Astrid’s lips quirk up at the corners. Skylar likes that about her, she realizes. That she has a sense of humor.
“Well, until then—good job, for surviving.”
Skylar makes a scathing sound. “I don’t think congratulations are in order, Little Witch. But thanks all the same.” She glances over her shoulder. Axel and Zryan are still talking in the distance. Skylar tries to ignore the roll in her stomach.
“You didn’t die,” Astrid says firmly. “That’s something.”
Skylar considers Astrid for a moment. She hadn’t thought until now what it would be like for her, waiting to see if Skylar survived. It adds credence to her idea that the royals didn’t evenwanther to survive—two for the price of one, isn’t it? She doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead she shakes her head. “I told you—I have things to do before I die.”
