Fox struggled to swallow. It was his turn to realize he was shaking.
“You’ve ruined me in the best way,” he whispered at last. “And when I die and they bury my body, I’ll still be loving you.”
Her hands came up, cupping his chin and bringing his face down to meet hers, and he let himself fall into her kiss. Any thought of the future disappeared, and he simply was, every nerve ending in his body firing at the feel of her against him.
He felt, and he didn’t think.
CHAPTER FIFTY
IAN
Last night the wind smelled of sea salt so heavily I might have assumed we had gotten lost and ended up at the ocean. Instead, we woke in the middle of the night to a roaring wind so strong, half the tents had to be torn down and reassembled against the stone cliffs of the mountain. Jol, Anthony and I sat huddled in our tent for most of the night, unable to sleep for the howling. If the dragons had come, we wouldn’t have heard them. By the time the storm stopped, the sun was already high in the sky, and the tent was half buried in fresh snow. They’re still counting the dead, but at least two dozen died in the night. I can still smell the sea, but I am starting to wonder if we’ll ever make it back there again.
-The last letter received by Ura Gray from Junior Sergeant Gray prior to his unit’s disappearance, Sun Cycle 411
Ian had spent two days with the list running through his mind.
The prison tent.
Harlow’s tent.
Luna’s tent.
Tomas’ tent.
Dubois’ tent.
The dragon pen.
If he missed just one. If he forgot a step, he could ruin everything before it began. If he got caught. If he missed a bone. If his theory on how they worked was wrong…
He hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of food over the past few days. Not that anyone noticed. Their rations were down to the bare minimum of tasteless beans and some stringy rabbit, and most of the soldiers spent their time picking at their food rather than actually eating. Luna and Harlow had been locked in meetings for the past three days, clearly trying to come up with the next plan on approaching the dragons’ nest, but none of the soldiers had been brought into the discussions. Morale was low as it felt as if they were sitting around in the forest, slowly starving in the cold.
Ian was less affected by the mood of camp, taking mealtimes to walk the path he’d need to take, not quite going all the way to the dragons’ pen, but marking each tent in his mind until he could do it with his eyes closed. First, the prison tent and then Harlow’s. He’d have to wait for the distraction to begin and hope Harlow left to see what was happening. Then he’d retrieve Eha’s bone from the chest and get Fox’s mother to the prison tent to wait for Javi. Luna’s bone was the closest from there. But if even just one of them didn’t take the bait that Sofia was laying down, he was going to have to confront them.
His finger ran across the blade of his dagger, which he had sharpened just that morning. He was ready to do what he needed to do. A log in the fire popped, and he startled, his heart flying into his throat. Nesto gave him a sideways glance but said nothing. Ian swallowed, trying to calm his heart. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the sky was just starting to blacken into night.
If everything went well, this would be his last time in front of this fire. This would be his last mission for the resistance. After over a decade of working as a spy, after countless nights washing the Dragonborn blood from his hands, praying that it wouldn’t stain his soul, after living every day of his life with his mask firmly in place, he was going to be done. One good thing and he’d be out.
And it only took him losing both the people he loved most.
He’d be leaving his aunt, too. He wouldn’t be able to go backto the city after this. But Cecilia would survive. He knew she was more of a fighter than he was.
All he wanted was to be done. He’d thought Leon’s death had broken him, but losing Isadora had decimated his already ashen heart. There would be no more fighting after this. He’d heard about how welcoming the people of Terdun were. Or perhaps he’d go farther—across the great ocean to the lands they didn’t even trade with—where no one even knew of Suvi or Wueco.
“Are you done with your beans?” Nesto asked, eyeing Ian’s bowl. It was still full—or at least as full as the rations allowed.
Ian pushed the bowl with the toe of his boot, and Nesto picked it up, swallowing the beans down in two bites.
“King’s balls,” Ian said. “Try chewing next time.”
“If you don’t chew, you don’t have to focus on the flavor,” Nesto said with a grimace.
Ian forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too empty.
“How much longer do you think they’ll keep us out here?” he asked, his voice low.
Ian shrugged. “As long as it takes to get control of the rest of the dragons.”
