“NO!” Cassia’s scream tore from her throat as she threw everything she had at the construct. Lightning. Wind. Every ounce of storm magic she possessed.
The construct dispersed—water falling in a mundane splash across the ruined cottage—but the damage was done.
Nerissa was already moving. Already flowing toward the shattered wall, toward the harbor, toward the water that would swallow her and hide her from any pursuit.
“This isn’t over,” she called back, her voice carrying over the chaos. “The wave is coming. Everything he cares about will drown. And you’ll know it was because ofyou.”
Then she was gone—diving into the harbor, vanishing beneath the waves where no surface-dweller could follow.
Cassia didn’t watch her go. She scrambled across the flooded floor to where Delos lay broken and bleeding.
TWENTY-NINE
CASSIA
“Delos. Delos, stay with me.”
The young dragon had shifted back to human form—instinct, probably, the body seeking its smaller shape when the larger one was too damaged to maintain. He lay in the wreckage of the cottage, shirtless and shaking, blood streaming from wounds that traced the pattern of shattered scales.
His right arm hung at the wrong angle. His chest was a mess of lacerations. And his shoulder—where his wing had joined his body in dragon form—was a ruin of torn muscle and exposed bone.
“Cassia.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Did we—did we get her?”
“She ran.” Cassia pressed her hands against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to remember every healing charm she’d ever learned. “But we hurt her. You hurt her. That fire?—”
“Good.” A ghost of his usual grin flickered across his pain-tight face. “Sirens hate fire. Should’ve seen her face when I—” He coughed, and blood flecked his lips. “When I lit up her pretty cottage.”
“Stop talking. Save your strength.”
“Have to tell you.” His hand found hers, grip weak but determined. “She’s building something. A wave. Bigger than anything—” Another cough. More blood. “Get Aero. She’s going to… the tsunami… she’s been building toward…”
His eyes rolled back. His grip went slack.
“Delos!” Cassia shook him, panic clawing at her chest. “DELOS!”
He was breathing. Barely. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven gasps. But he was alive.
For now.
Cassia looked around the ruined cottage. The walls were half-collapsed. The floor was flooded with water and blood. The ceiling had holes where her lightning had punched through. And somewhere in Haven Shores, a siren was building a tsunami that could kill everyone she loved.
Get help, the rational part of her mind insisted. Get Aero. Get the healers. You can’t carry him alone.
But leaving him here, unconscious and bleeding in enemy territory?—
A familiar weight landed on her shoulder. Gust. Her storm petrel had found her, drawn by the magical chaos or their psychic bond or both.
Help is coming,he sent through their link.I felt it. The pack felt it. Everyone felt it. They’re on their way.
Relief crashed through her, so intense it nearly buckled her knees.
“Hang in there,” she told Delos, even though he couldn’t hear her. “Just stay with me. Aero’s coming. Help is coming. You’re going to be okay.”
She didn’t know if she believed it. But she kept talking, kept her hands pressed against his wounds, kept pouring what little healing magic she possessed into his broken body.
The sound of running footsteps reached her ears. Voices. Shouted commands. The thunder of boots on wet ground.
“In here!” she screamed. “We’re in here!”
