“Yeah—I won’t be doing that.”
He considers her for a moment. She wonders if he’ll push her, give her another lecture on this being bigger than just her. Instead he nods. “Fair enough. After that, the week before the duel, we have the Measuring.”
Skylar narrows her eyes. “Just what, exactly, are you planning to measure?”
“I’m not the one doing the measuring, sadly. But this is where your outfit for the duel will be fit for size.”
“Seriously? A whole ceremony just for outfits?”
He pauses, his gaze darting to hers, then away again. “Yes,” he says eventually. “A ceremony for outfits. So it’s worth having a think about what you want that to be.”
She briefly wonders whether to press him on the clear evasion. Then again, maybe she doesn’t care right now. “I get to decide?”
“Of course. You’re the one fighting in it. We have some designers on hand to discuss, of course—but ultimately it will be down to you.”
She nods slowly. She gets to decide the outfit she’ll have to fight to the death in. Aren’t they kind?
She rubs her hands over her face. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“You’re back from the island,” he says after a beat. “Our priorities are different now.”
Right. Back from the island—and not dead, as some of them might have hoped. She thinks of the king in his office yesterday. Of how he told her what he’d done to her mother, tried to do to her. All for the sake of a rumor. A rumor that turned out to be true, but still.
“Are you okay?” Axel asks.
She realizes that at her sides her hands have clenched into fists, nails biting palms. It’s a strong reason to want to win this duel—so that she can kill the king, after.
But on that note… “I don’t know what the point of any of this is,” she says bitterly, choosing to ignore Axel’s question. “For three weeks you’ve been telling me that if I don’t get a dragon, I’m screwed. Well…” She opens her hands wide.
“Okay, so you don’t have a dragon.” Skylar snorts at that. “But you’re not defenseless, Skylar.” His voice changes, a lower, smoother sound. She can’t help remembering how he looked at her after he pulled her out of the ocean. Not fear. Awe.
He hesitates. Then, “That’s quite some power you’ve been hiding.” There is no judgment—just cold, hard fact.
“Can you blame me?” she whispers. “For hiding it?”
“I think I can understand,” Axel says slowly, “why you kept it secret.”
“If I wasn’t the heir, I’d be executed right now,” she says bluntly.
He levels a look at her, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. “But you are the heir.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she mutters. She hates admitting that sort of vulnerability. Doesn’t know why she is letting him glimpse it. Only, he set foot onto dragon soil for her. She can’t forget that.
“Yes, you do.” His voice is fierce. “You train. You keep fighting. You decide you’re going to win this, Skylar.” Their gazes meet, hold. Something deep within her tightens. “And when you win, you use that power to do whatever in Vaar’s name you want.”
She thinks of Cam, of how she’d have the power to save him, if she won.
He’s right.It’s a voice like thunder, rumbling through her mind. She lets out a soft exhale of relief, at the fact that he is still talking to her.It isn’t over, Death Bringer.
She grimaces.Don’t call me that.
Why shy away from what you are? Maybe it was that which the dragons on the island saw. Maybe it was that which made you unworthy—dragons do not shy away from our true nature.
I think it was more about whatIsaw.
It’s not a question, but she manages to convey it as one in her mind.There’s a hesitation, but she can still feel his presence, and imagines a swish of his tail as he thinks.
There are some secrets we do not share, he says eventually.Even with our riders.
