Page 98 of House of the Iron Reaper

“Shit, shit, shit.” Novalie grabs my arm to pull me away from the two dragons. “Ronan’s right, we need to get out of here.”

“No, we can’t,” I say, resisting her pull. Heat billows from Aythora and Lysandra as they size each other up. Sand melts beneath their feet. “We have to help.”

“Aythora ascended,” Novalie pleads. “She can kill us all. Please, Dey, we need to run.”

I sway on my feet, still woozy, and shake my head.

“I cannot leave her,” I whisper, eyes pinned on Lysandra.

Lysandra, who used to dance with my father, laughing, and has not laughed since he died. Lysandra, who pulled me from the rubble of House Iron and held me to her as I cried. Lysandra, who took on my work when I could not leave my bed from grief.

You will stay here. Safe.

I watch as she throws her head back, a fiery glow flowing up from her krata to her throat. She launches fire at Aythora with enough force to throw us back against the ground. I scramble up as fast as I can, still caught in the fog of the poison, coughing away sand. Flames encircle Aythora but she only stands tall, a throaty chuckle rolling from her maw.

“You are weak,” she bellows, slamming down onto all fours as the fire dissipates into nothing around her. “Like the rest of your lower tier Houses, you know nothing of true power. Nothing of what a real dragon is.”

“Deyanara, get up!” Novalie tugs me to my feet. “We need to go, now!”

“No, I cannot-”

“I care not for your so-called superiority,” Lysandra snarls. “You tried to kill my daughter! Die!”

Lysandra darts forward, quicker than expected for a fully transformed dragon. Aythora tries to swipe at her but Lysandra is a beat quicker, sliding under her outstretched arm like smoke. She spins, whipping her tail around to strike Aythora’s chest, right where her krata is. The earth shudders as Aythora falls. Lysandra seizes her chance, raising one spiked fist and sending it torpedoing down towards Aythora’s head.

Her punch strikes the ground, rattling the earth as Aythora rolls away before it can land. Like fire tearing through straw, Aythora moves fast and lands a crunching headbutt against Lysandra’s snout. Black blood explodes from her face, sizzling as it hits the sand. Lysandra falls.

“Dey-” Novalie starts.

“Stop!” I yell. “I will not run!” I turn and point a finger at where Aythora stands over Lysandra. “She murdered Deimos. I will not let her kill my mother, too.”

Novalie deflates. Fire billows behind us, Lysandra beating her wings at the last moment to hover out of the way. Aythora grins with razor-sharp teeth and I realise I have never seen her smile before—only now, when she wants to kill.

“I will not run,” I repeat.

Novalie looks between me and Aythora, tears in her eyes. Her mother clutches her, terrified.

“Is she the only one of these ascended dragons?” Ronan yells over the sound of Aythora’s roar. “Are there any who aren’t insane?”

Novalie’s face clears at the same time the idea pops into my head.

“Cahir!” we say at once.

Lysandra tries flying higher—Aythora reaches up with her considerable height and grabs Lysandra’s ankle before she can dodge, snatching her from the sky. I cry out as Lysandra is slammed into the ground, sending a great crack through the air. She does not move.

“Fuck, fuck.” Novalie grabs Ronan. “Look for the House of Obsidian, Cahir is there and he will help us.”

“What does that House look like?”

“Like fucking obsidian, Ronan!”

“You need to go with him,” I tell Novalie.

“I stay with you,” Novalie says, shaking her head. “Always.” She turns to Ronan. “Run!”

Ronan’s eyes dart from us to Aythora.

“Don’t die,” he warns before sprinting away. I catch sight of him transforming, running on all fours, before turning to Novalie’s mother.