Cassandra returned to Tristan. “He says he wants the dragon to end him. It’s the most honorable way for the Cynn Drakan to die. As long as I give the command, he will die by my hand and ownership of the hammer will transfer.”
Tristan shrugged. “No reason to deny him.”
Cassandra turned to Cael, who threw his arms around her and dipped his head against her neck, his shoulders shuddering violently.
Tristan had a very bad feeling.
Cassandra pulled back, scanning Cael’s face with furrowed brows, but there were too many eyes upon them to discuss it. Plus, there was a centuries-old wingless warrior turned king of a warded prison turned loser of an executioner’s appeal to deal with.
“Aedelmar wants to be ended by the dragon,” she said. “Can you make that happen?”
Cael nodded stiffly, then walked back to Signys, who regarded Aedelmar with a slight tilt of her head. As if she recognized him.
Aedelmar closed his eyes, a tear tracking down his scarred cheek.
The ground shuddered beneath Tristan’s feet as Signys crept forward until she was directly above Aedelmar. He lifted a palm, and she nuzzled it with her nose, her lids sliding closed.
Cael whispered a word to the dragon, too faintly for Tristan to hear, and Signys roared a grief-laden bellow to the sky.
Aedelmar signed to Silas, then opened his arms wide.
“What did he say?” Cassandra asked.
“To…Priya? Who’s that?”
Aedelmar opened his arms wide, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes, a faint smile curving his lips.
“His peace,” Cassandra answered.
Signys’s gigantic ribs pushed outward, and when she opened her maw, a column of flame poured out over Aedelmar.
The heart gem within the hammer, still clasped in Tristan’s fist, pulsed. Faintly at first, then more intensely with each wave of Signys’s fire.
The dragon closed her mouth, dissolving her fire, then turned her muzzle toward Cael. Seeking comfort.
When the smoke cleared, all that remained of Aedelmar Burkhardt was a smoldering pile of bones.
The gem pulsed once more, and a burst of red erupted from its center. The glowing light bathed Cassandra, then sparkled up her limbs and out across her feathers. Binding her to the hammer’s magic.
The courtyard was grave silent, giving the Brethren a moment to say farewell to their erstwhile king.
And now that her ceremonial duties were over, Cassandra rushed over to Cael and cupped his face in her palms.
“Where’s Xenia?”
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Cassandra’s sobs crashed past Cael’s ribs, pelting his battle-weary heart.
Stretched out beside Xenia in the narrow bed, Cass cried into her friend’s shoulder as she maintained a vise-like grip on Xenia’s limp hand. Cass’s white wings—her fuckingwings; High Gods, that was going to take some getting used to—were tucked against her back.
Cael knew exactly how Cassandra felt. He’d been in the same position—with less crying only because he was so fucking numb inside—the night after Signys had incinerated his father and he’d come down to Lebaedia to check on Xenia.
He’d spent the night here in the healer’s quarters with his arms wrapped around her, begging the High Gods, the Lesser Gods, the Creator herself, to give her back.
None had listened.
So, he and Signys had left for Tartarus the next morning to burn down the wards with the rebels.
