Kassidy lifted a single, well-sculpted brow but otherwise remained silent.
“Shall we discuss why we’re here?” King Elias asked.
“Our hatchlings, younglings, and dragas, the mother dragons, are ill,” Kassidy said, signaling for one of the females with her to come forward.
The female dipped her head, her dark hair falling over her face before she brushed it back. Once she reached Kassidy, sheknelt beside her and pulled something out of the pack on her back, then handed it to Kassidy.
Kassidy cradled a large egg in her hands, holding it close to her chest. The egg shimmered with the light that reflected from its white shell.
“We’ve lost several already,” Kassidy said, her eyes intent on the egg. “We don’t know the cause of the illness or how to cure it.”
“Do you believe magic is at play?” Brenton asked. “Is that why Sama wanted Finley to come?”
“What magic do you possess?” she asked me, knowing who I was, although I never introduced myself.
“My magic has a connection with death,” I said, wary of each word spoken.
In my head, I felt Sama urge me forward. I braced a hand on my knee but refused to curl into myself. Instead, I sat straighter and tipped my head just a little higher.
“I am permitted to see if magic played a role in someone’s death,” I said.
Kassidy held the egg closer, keeping a protective hand around it.
“Troupe, will you give Finley the dead hatchling?” Kassidy asked.
One of the males, older than Everitt but younger than Callan, stood. He also reached into his pack and, when he knelt at my side, gave me a small wooden box.
The lid creaked open, that sound echoing inside me as I peered inside, where a tiny dragon, not yet fully formed, curled around a broken egg. Where Hoshiko’s scales were vibrant, this one’s were dull.
My heart ached, and with a delicate finger, I touched the tiny hatchling. A bit of warmth still clung to its lifeless body, a terrible echo of the fire it should’ve been born to yield.
A life stolen before it could take flight. There was only silence and sorrow over what could have been.
Agony.I jerked my hand back at the pain, but it wasn’t my pain I’d felt.
The hatchling. How it’d suffered. Like an inferno unraveling from the inside.
I gasped at the vision that trampled my mind, witnessing what no one else had.
I picked up one of the broken pieces of the yellowed shell and winced. Magic had clawed through the dark veins threaded through the shell. All the while, the hatchling had thrashed—confused and terrified and utterly alone.
My vision blurred, and when Brenton put a reassuring hand on my thigh this time, I clasped it.
Something sacred had broken here.
A darkness I felt in the pit of my stomach coiled around the hatchling, wanting to take what it’d left behind. This wasn’t a natural death.
No, wretched invasive magic had not only killed this hatchling but tormented it. Ripping it thread by thread as it stole its magic and any hope for a future.
“The mage.” It came out as a gasp. “Is she truly dead?”
King Elias shifted. “I killed Leanora myself.”
“Are you certain?” I asked, wiping away the tears that fell. “This”—I cupped the tiny hatchling in my palm—“it feels like her. She killed fae by stripping them of their magic.” Power from the magic used still thrummed through the lifeless hatchling.
Gently, I laid the hatchling back down to rest and scratched the back of my neck when the hairs at my nape rose. My lungs clenched with this feeling of being watched. I turned to peer behind me, only seeing Hoshiko and the other dragons, but something else was there. I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head up toward the cliffs lined with various trees.
I took in a shaky breath, squeezing Brenton’s hand rather than pulling away, grateful for the weight of his hand in mine.
