Page 103 of House of the Iron Reaper

The hand withdraws, the sky seals itself once more. But the golden light remains. Every inch of me glows, a dragon Ascended.

“No!” Aythora roars. “You were dead!”

I look at my hands, flexing them as if seeing them for the first time.

“I am not permitted to die,” I say simply, with a smile at Novalie.

She stares at me, astonished and something like awe-struck, but grins and wipes her eyes, a shocked laugh escaping her throat. Aythora snarls, beating her scaly chest.

“You still cannot defeat my fire,” she sneers. “I killed you once, I can do it again.”

The sky rumbles overhead. A raindrop falls. And then another. Aythora blinks, looking skyward with something close to fear in her crimson eyes. As if a bucket of water has been dumped over the city, rain pummels the ground in fat, heavy drops.

Novalie and I look at each other through the downpour.

The next time it rains, I will know Deimos is still with us.

“Thank you, my friend.” My tears run with the rain.

Faeth flows like a river around me. I transform with ease, wings gliding from my back and my body growing, growing, still growing. My wings shudder under the downpour, and I fall onto all fours with a crash. My mind churns with the feel of my new size and body, the world so much smaller beneath me, the weight of my body placed differently. I am larger now than Aythora by far but she snarls at me with the desperation of a trapped animal.

Why was I ever afraid of Aythora?

The thought strikes me like a punch to the chest. I know brave dragons and I know strong dragons and Aythora is neither. Using Novalie, who trusted her, who does not gift her trust easily. Using poison out of fear of losing a fight.

Perhaps there was a brave dragon in Aythora, once. The Saints thought so. But whatever bravery she had has rotted into something foul. Something murderous.

I stand back on my back legs, sparks crackling at the back of my throat.

“You have never looked smaller,” I tell her.

Aythora snarls and draws her fisted claw back. I meet her punch with my own, clashing hard enough to rattle the mountain. The both of us rock back.

I cannot stop the smile that bares my teeth. Whatever she may think of lower tier dragons, we stand opposite each other as equals.

And then Aythora’s hateful gaze looks down.

At Novalie.

Chapter 59

Novalie

The world rocks under the force of their clash. It becomes increasingly hard to stay behind Deyanara, who takes up most of Dragon’s Vale. The arena was not built to contain two Ascended dragons, especially one of Deyanara’s size.

I spy my mother hiding in the tunnel, back pressed against the wall and terrified face peeking out. With Cahir’s enchantment, she is in the safest place she possibly can be right now but I do not like her being so close.

I point at her, opening my mouth to tell her to run when a blistering heat crashes over me.

“Novalie!” Deyanara roars.

Aythora’s lava-coated claw hits the ground a second after I sprint out of the way. I could move a lot faster with wings but my mind is a tangle of warning bells and screaming and I’m about as far from ‘peace of mind’ as someone can get.

Deyanara shifts, trying to put herself between Aythora and I as I twist and start running for the tunnel. I glance behind me in time to see Aythora seize her opening and swing a claw at Deyanara’s throat.

“No!” I cry out but Deyanara is too fixed on me, on making sure I get away safely, to realise.

Aythora scrapes her claws across Deyanara’s throat in an explosion of lava before catching her jaw and rocketing her head upward. I come to a stop, heart hammering.