Hope stirred in Tristan’s chest as he leaned forward, ensnared by the whisper that parted Trophonios’s lips.
“Pure dragon-fire.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Tell him what you told me,” Tristan said, flaring his blue-black wings.
The midmorning light in the church ruins glimmered across his feathers and cast shadows in the folds of Nemosyna’s marble robes.
Cael turned toward Trophonios—fuckingTrophonios himself—and tried to keep the awe off of his face.
High Gods, he wished Xenia were here. The journals they’d poured through in Thalenn had showcased the ebony-skinned male’s quick, exacting mind. Cael could only imagine the conversations Trophonios and Xenia might have together.
“Aedelmar Burkhardt,” Cael began. “You know who he is?”
Trophonios sliced cunning teal eyes toward him. “The leader of the Cynn Drakan?”
Cael told Trophonios—and Tristan, who’d already heard this news via windwhisper this morning when Cael had arranged the meeting—about how Arran had kept the dragon captive all these years.
Trophonios’s eyes had grown wider and wider as Cael spoke, and at the end of the tale, he turned to Tristan with a smirk. “Now I know why you wanted to come see him so badly.”
Cael shot a confused look at Tristan, who spilled everything the Teles Chrysos had learned from the Compendium.
“This is all well and good,” Cael said, “but evenifyou wanted to break into Tartarus to find Burkhardt—and Cassandra—how in Ethyrios do you hope to do it?”
Tristan pulled two lidded graphite crucibles from the pocket of his leather jacket.
“Do I even want to know what those are for?” Cael asked.
Tristan nodded. “You do. Because one of these is for you. Dragon-fire is the solution to both our problems. It will allow me to temporarily breach the wards of Tartarusandwill help you de-activate the tracking device in Xenia’s neck.”
Hope blazed bright in Cael’s heart, then dimmed slightly. “Will it hurt her?”
“Badly,” Trophonios grimaced. “But if you share some of your blood, she’ll survive it.”
Cael smiled—a broad, goofy grin. He couldn’t help it. They could remove the device. And Xenia would survive. They could finally escape Stoneridge.
Together.
He could still feel her soft, delicate fingers stroking his wing, could feel her lips and teeth at his neck as her perfect body shuddered beneath him. An imitation of the act he’d been waiting to perform with her since, well, since he’d met her, if he were being honest.
“So,” he said to Tristan, “what’s the plan?”
Cael satbefore the rusted metal desk in Leonard’s office, the two crucibles heavy in his pocket.
The two males were sharing a simple lunch—cold meats, cheese and bread, plus mugs of ale. It had become something of a routine for them. Every time Cael visited Typhon Mountain, he’d meet with the administrative staff first, then tour the forges, then spend the afternoon with Leonard and the dragon.
Outside Leonard’s office, the keepers sat along the cave wall eating their own lunch, their shouted conversations mingling with the clang of the forges. In the center of the pit, the dragon rested, smoke puffing from her nostrils with each exhale.
“So,” Cael said, breaking off a piece of cheese and popping it into his mouth. Trying to seem casual, though his palms were clammy and his voice was tight. If Leonard noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Tell me more about how you came to be the dragon’s caretaker. How did you meet my father?”
Cael thought if he asked about Leonard’s history, he might be able to lead him toward the subject of freeing the dragon. It was an insane thought, but something about the chats they’d had these past weeks told him it wasn’t completely off the table. But he didn’t want to press the issue too quickly. Wanted to ease the old Beastrunner into it.
Leonard sipped his beer, froth catching in his white moustache. “Fought with him during the war.” Pride brightened his wrinkled face. “In every single battle leading up to that final one in Akti, after he’d summoned her. I was the only of his commanders brave enough to help him care for the beauty.” He huffed out a laugh, then leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell him, but I think she’s always liked me better.”
Cael chuckled. “No offense, but that’s not a hard contest to win.” He flared his sole wing, and Leonard’s sympathetic glance passed over it. Cael still hadn’t corrected Leonard’s assumption that he’d lost the wing to Arran. Nor would he do it today. His plans hinged on exploiting the lingering animosity betweenLeonard and his father. “Why did you stay with him after the war? Didn’t you have family to get back to?”
“Nah.” Leonard waved knobby knuckles. “She’smy family. And she needed an advocate. No one else was clamoring for the job.” Affection crinkled the corners of Leonard’s eyes as he gazed out to the pit floor.
