Page 92 of House of the Iron Reaper

“No,” I whisper. And then louder, “No!”

I grab several thick cloths from the kitchens before running back over. Wrapping them around the warped door handle, I grab and rattle it. It barely budges, melted out of shape, and the door remains stoic.

“No! Lysandra!” I shout, throwing my shoulder against the door desperately. It is unmoving and the heat of it nearly scalds me through my clothes.

I throw my full body weight onto the door handle, leaning on it hard. It snaps clean off. Breathing hard, I stare at the broken handle in my hands, as if it will spontaneously rejoin the door.

I’m locked in. I can’t get out.

The world falls away from under me. I try one last time to call Lysandra’s name, but she either ignores me or has gone completely.

An idea springing to mind, I jump up and run back towards my chambers. I have one of the few rooms with a window, as most of the House is built into the side of the mountain, using only algae as light. I run up to my window and, without thinking, I launch a punch at the glass.

Pain lances up my arm. I bounce straight off, stumbling and falling back. With a groan, I inspect my hand but, thankfully, only find a small gash across my knuckle. In frustration, I pick up the nearest object—an empty bowl—and throw it at the window. It pings harmlessly off the glass.

“Fucking dragon glass,” I moan, putting my head in my hands.

A thousand fruitless ideas for escape fly through my mind, each more implausible than the last. The tears start flowing and I do not bother to wipe them away. Everything I fought for is slipping through my fingers. The plan Novalie and I spent the night talking through, polishing and prepping until the sun rose and the last of the ball guests left, was all for naught.

What do I do?

On your feet, Dey.

I groan miserably, half-sobbing, my father’s voice echoing in my head. I do not want to. I want to curl in a ball and cry.

But my father looks down at me, face split in a grin and his hand reaching down to me.

Sniffling, I get up. It is only then I realise there’s a face in the window.

Too startled to even make a noise, I jump out of my skin instead, hands raised. The face cocks it’s head, regarding me.

Aythora.

With a gasp, I run up to the window. She mouths something at me I cannot quite hear and points towards the front of the House. I nod vigorously and scramble back through the House to the front door.

Standing nervously, I fidget with the hem of my shirt, waiting. There is no noise or movement for several minutes, and I nearly think Aythora has left. But then the heat increases, growing until the sides of the door start to melt once more.

“Stand back!” I hear her call, muffled, and have only a second to move before the door falls inward with a resounding clang.

Aythora stands on the other side, melting back into her human form. Flames crackle from her mouth.

“Thank-”

“No need for that.” Aythora waves me off. “You’re going to be late.”

She picks up where my mask was still on the ground and hands it to me. I look down at it briefly before shaking my head. Lysandra knows and now, so will everyone else.

“I do not need it,” I say with a smile. “Let us go.”

Chapter 46

Deyanara

“Where is Novalie?” I ask. “And Ronan?”

The roar of Dragon’s Vale is at new heights, sand trickling down from above where they stamp in the stands. There is even more vigour from being kept waiting. But the contender’s area is empty.

“I told you, you are late,” Aythora says, arms crossed. “They sit in the stands, waiting for you to come out.”