My heart pounds and hands tremble, and not just from the effort. Thiscould be the end. This could be how we all die. I reach for a silver coin in my pocket, craft it into a long piercing shard. I don’t want to kill this dragon, but she’s not touching Farren.
I ready myself to throw even as I continue to be hurled back from crafting.
Then Bex halts midair like ropes tether her in place. Wings flap, neck strains, but she’s been stopped, controlled. I can feel myself crafting, but it’s wrong, not nearly enough pressure pushing back on me.
“Keep holding her, James,” a trainer shouts. I don’t know who because I’m only focused on one thing. And it’s not keeping the silver-plated Sprinter away from Farren like I had intended. Because I’m not doing anything.
She is.
CHAPTER NINEWHEN YOU HAVE TO PRETEND YOU’RE HELPLESS
FARREN
What have I done?
Bex shrieks, trainers bellow. Noise clashes in a screeching tangle until a crafter gets a silver needle in Bex’s neck. My crafting eases in a whoosh of weight being discarded and I drop my hands in hopes I look like nothing more than a scared girl trying to cover her head. My power hums, wanting that pressure again like a muscle needing to be stretched.
I just… I just can’t believe I stretched that muscle inpublic.
With a prickle on the back of my neck, I whirl around to find James Murphy—staring. As my eyes connect to his, I know with every fiber of my being, the shock on his face relates to me.
And that he knows. Heknows.
One of the men pats him on the back, a congratulatory good job. Colm runs up, shaking him with the thrill of such a feat. I don’t catch a single word. James doesn’t even blink.
Familiar arms scoop me up and it’s Dad whispering in my ear, asking something. I nod, my gaze never leaving James’s. I feel like if I look awayit’ll be admitting everything. That I held Bex, controlled her entire body, so easy it was reflex.
“Farren, talk to me.” Dad squeezes my shoulders. “Farren, are you okay?”
My surroundings, other than Murphy, knock back into focus. Dad worried in front of me. A new silence echoing without Bex’s cries. “Yes. I’m completely fine.” And I am, except for the fact I think I’ve blown our secret.
Hendrix groans and his pain tumbles back to the forefront. I dig my fingers into my dad’s jacket, begging for good news. “Were you able to persuade Mr. Murphy?”
“I told them with Hendrix paralyzed he won’t produce the silver they want. But… they are going to try.”
A misery akin to hopelessness grips my heart. “No.”
“It’s his dragon. Legally, he has the choice.” Dad’s hold tightens. “I’m going to do all I can to make it as painless as possible for Hendrix. I need you to leave here, far enough away…” Where I can’t hear Hendrix’s descaling.
“I know a place.” James suddenly stands in front of us. “I’ll take her there.”
“Please.” I don’t know if Dad is answering James or imploring me to listen, but either way I agree. If I can’t stop what’s about to happen, I refuse to watch.
I crouch in front of Hendrix one last time and brush my hands over his scales. Silver retreats under my fingertips. This is what real power feels like. “I’m sorry. It will be over soon.”
As three scalers stroll onto the dirt arena, James pulls me toward the stalls. Bits of metal and various instruments hanging from the scalers’ belts jingle. I spot a few obsidian daggers as well, sharp blades made of volcanic glass, not metal, so they can pierce through flesh after a dragon is descaled. Can pierce through humans too since crafters can’t manipulate the glass. Terrifying.
Just as we’re passing the scalers, a lean man with a shock of bright blond hair cocks his head in James’s direction. “Young Murphy. Not staying for theshow?” He chuckles, flipping a flat silver tool in his palm. “Figures.”
Beside me, James tenses, spine rigid. Yet, he says nothing and only picksup his pace. I turn though. The way that scaler had saidshowlike what was about to happen would be entertainment. It’s everything wrong with the dragon industry. My point proven when that man lifts his arms at the sight of Hendrix. “Looks like we won’t have to tranquilize this one. What a lucky day.”
My stomach swivels in a sickening roll.
“Don’t look back,” James whispers and I face forward as we enter the stalls.
Light disappears like traversing a cave. The smell of old hay infuses the air. It reminds me of home until we get to the cages. Alcoves punched into the rock like the barn, but barred like a dungeon. Flashes of bronze radiate from the nearest Sprinter to my right. Scared because of all the noise or living in perpetual fear? A low aggressive growl emits from another cell. A different kind of coldness shivers down my back. James’s confusion from yesterday holds new meaning.Because they are dragons.
We trudge forward. But when the cages become uninhabited slabs of stone moments later, I call out. “James, wait.”
