Kassidy broke the silence first, her tone softer than before. “I don’t know magic, but I know a good soul when I see one. I’m sorry for my earlier caution. It was unjust.”
“It was understandable,” I said. “My magic . . . if I hadn’t been able to control it?—”
“You would’ve brought your own ruin before you permitted it to harm any of us,” Kassidy retorted. “And you”—she turned to Brenton—“stood at her side without flinching. Some males would’ve seized control on their own. You didn’t. You let her hold her own strength.”
I brushed my shoulder against Brenton’s in silent acknowledgment and thanks. It had been his encouraging words, his faith in me, that had not only centered me but pushed me forward.
I hadn’t done it alone, but with Brenton and Everly at my side.
Wordlessly, we continued our hike up the mountain, my palm against Brenton’s until we reached the cave. Kassidy ducked in first, her steps echoing against the stone, and we trailed her. The deeper we went, the more dragons we passed. Their hulking shadows were curled tight against the walls, their scales dulled to an ash gray. The air grew thicker with the sour tang of rot and smoke. Each ragged breath, every fatigued twitch of their tails, scraped against my chest.
Death prowled here. Patient but hungry. And already, its teeth had claimed too many.
“Why is it you cannot heal the sick dragons?” I asked Willow.
“I can only heal through my dragon’s magic,” she said, her eyes on the cave floor. “His magic only seems to worsen their condition. Your magic will help, though.”
I bobbed my head in a nod before I could think even though the motion felt stiff, almost dishonest. The cavern itself seemed to hold its breath. Dragons untouched by the dark magic shifted, their heavy eyes lowering to me. Their hope pressed into my ribs, too big to fit. I fixed my gaze on the ground, on the cracks in the stone beneath my boots, because to meet their eyes felt like a promise I couldn’t give.
My magic had always been a blade, not a balm. “I hope you’re right, Willow, but?—”
“I’m right,” she replied.
“Do you ever permit someone to finish speaking?” Brenton asked, his voice a light tease as he grinned at the young female.
Her smile was bashful. “It’s a bad habit my parents were never able to scold out of me.”
Everitt knocked his shoulder against hers. “That’s only because what you have to say is too important to keep in.”
Kassidy tousled her younger brother’s damp hair, her smile curved in approval. Everitt beamed.
Far too soon, we reached where Solana rested. Her massive head sagged atop taloned paws. The sharp edge of her power dulled and folded into something frail.
As it’d done before, my magic flared. I held it fast, wrapping my arms across my chest.
“There.” Willow turned to face me. “Your magic wants to heal her.”
I wound my arms tighter, giving my head a sharp shake. “You’re mistaken, Willow. My magic does not wish to heal anyone.”
The threads of my magic flooded through my veins, burning and flaming and ready to strike.
Her small hand circled my wrist, and I jerked away, turning my head back toward the entrance.
My magic bubbled, and when I pulled out my vial, Willow cupped a hand over it.
“Please, trust me,” she said. “Let me show you what you can do.”
Before I could reply, Willow’s eyes swirled to an endless white, and a gentle tug pulled at my magic, a silent request in the center of my chest. I gripped the threads of my magic harder, only trying to release it into the vial.
Willow’s next pull came stronger.
Amid the crowd watching us, I sought out Kassidy.
“Tell her to stop.” My voice shook just as hard as the hand I fisted at my chest.
Kassidy’s gaze bounced from her sister to me, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I trust my sister,” she finally said.
