Qorzillux? Mom?

  A lump caught in Zyryxa’s throat. The dragon’s mind pressed against hers, its presence unsettlingly familiar. Was there a piece of her mother still lingering within? If she reached for Zyrthalla, would she be acknowledged? Be proud of her even in death? Or was she chasing a ghost? Worse—what if the dragon’s unbonded state left it nothing more than a feral beast, untamed and unrecognizable? What if her mother attacked her?

  What if? What if? What if?

  Zyryxa despised the uncertainty, wearing it like an ill-fitting foreign garment that itched against her skin. The dragon’s mind was a storm, a mirror of her own turmoil, swirling with anxiety that fed her own.

  Are you Mother? The dragon asked, its wingbeats growing heavier as it descended into the blizzard.

  Lexyn screamed, “Dragon!”

  Natazia cowered beneath her drake, muttering, “Not him.”

  Pelzyq grabbed Lexyn’s arm. He drew his axe, bracing for battle.

  Zyryxa didn’t attend to them. Why would Qorzillux ask that? Then she remembered what Abbaz had said about the dragon that claimed Nix Tezyk as its roost.

  No. You’re not the one that made me, Amarzallax transmitted.

  Your egg was made at my conception, Zyryxa answered. We are twins.

  Zyryxa’s pulse quickened. She wanted to see Amarzallax, to lock eyes with the one bound to her by creation.

  “We have to run,” Natazia said, shaking as she climbed into Xilliax’s saddle.

  “No,” Zyryxa said. “I will see Amarzallax.”

  “Amarzallax?” Lexyn said, teeth chattering despite her warming tonic. “Not Coryza?”

  Zyryxa nodded. “I will meet my twin.”

  “No,” Natazia snapped. “We’re leaving. Before the feral dragon decides we’d make a splendid dinner.”

  Zyryxa clenched her fists. She was so divinedamned sick of this divinedamned envious bitch. She wished she could abandon her here, leave her to the storm while she and her true companions completed the rite.

  “Pelzyq wants to see the dragon too,” he said. “Even though he is happily paired with the beautiful Lexyn, how could he ever forgive himself if he misses his chance to see the illustrious Zyryxa in dragon form?”

  A roar split the sky, sending fresh terror through the drakes.

  “Sounds just like her,” Lexyn said, smiling through her chattering teeth.

  Are you worthy of me? Are you the one that will end this madness? Amarzallax’s voice rippled through Zyryxa’s mind. The dragon circled through the blizzard, lower and lower, a blurred shadow in the howling snow. Even at just seventeen years, she was massive, her flight faster than Qorzillux ever was.

  “Anybody else hear that?” Pelzyq asked.

  Zyryxa met his gaze and nodded. “My sister seeks to test us.”

  Natazia’s eyes darted between them. Zyryxa could read her expression like an illustrated book. She didn’t hear the dragon’s challenge. She wasn’t chosen. Confusion gave way to a brief envy. Zyryxa almost felt sorry for her. Then she remembered that she wasn’t worthy. Not unless she changed from this envious creature of the past several days.

  “I heard it,” Lexyn whispered. “She wants us to temper her mind, to bring her sanity through the bond. I wish I could.” Lexyn swallowed, her gentle eyes grew watery. “I’m sorry, Amarzallax. I’m not ready for you.”

  “You will be,” Pelzyq said, draping an arm around her back.

  Zyryxa loved them. She freezing loved them with all her heart. Then there was Natazia.

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  “Get on your drakes,” Natazia said. “We complete the rite first. Then one of you may return to claim this lesser dragon.”

  A shriek pierced the blizzard, so sharp and raw that even the drakes whined in pain. Zyryxa cringed, gritting her teeth against the hideous noise. “I don’t sound like that.”

  Pelzyq chuckled. “Sure, you don’t.”

  Forget what she thought about loving him. He could eat yellow snow.

  “We’re leaving!” Natazia shouted. “Now!”

  Zyryxa repressed the urge to scream at her, to thrash her with naught but her more powerful fists. But what would bother her the most would be to show control, to show that her words had no power. She turned her back on Natazia. She would see her twin. “I am ready, Amarzallax!”

  I will destroy you, sister, unless you are worthy of me.

  Her anxiety was replaced with cold confidence. Zyryxa knew she was as worthy as Amarzallax. Forged by the same love. Bound by fate. Her brood spoke in tense tones, moved around, but Zyryxa tuned them out as her mind melded with Amarzallax’s.

  Do your worst. I am ready.

  The ground trembled as the dragon landed, her sleek, crystalline form emerging from the snow. A crown of jagged ice horns adorned her head, and her body glimmered with layers of frozen beauty. She was magnificent—an ice dragon perfected, born to be the queen of the sky.

  Zyryxa’s breath caught. Amarzallax was a masterwork of Qoryxa. She had never seen such splendor in another creature, except when gazing at her own reflection.

  A part of her heart yearned for one that could match her in beauty. But beauty alone wouldn’t prove the dragon’s fit to be the bond of the future Ice Champion. Amarzallax thought to test Zyryxa but the dragon herself would be measured accordingly to her inclination toward compassion and her power.

  All these thoughts, these feelings, flowed uninterrupted between dragon and human. Amarzallax chafed at being tested even as she basked in the admiration of her aesthetic grandeur. In her arrogance, the dragon craved not only adoration, but worship. Zyryxa’s assertion that she might not be strong enough, stoked the feral dragon’s wrath. Yet, underneath that louder emotion, Zyryxa sensed the loneliness at Amarzallax’s core. She too craved a bond with one who was worthy of her. More than anything, she wanted Zyryxa to be as strong as she believed herself to be.

  Zyryxa braced. She knew what was coming, knew that she must be ice.

  A torrent of frozen death engulfed Zyryxa, numbing her limbs, stealing her breath. The cold tried to tear through her flesh, to shatter her bones, to paralyze and kill. Everything burned, screaming with pain.

  Zyryxa did not yield.

  Her voice was steady despite the pain. “I seek your blessing, Qoryxa. I vow to embody your justice. I will stand upon the zenith of your power, your beauty, your compassion. I will protect those who cannot protect themselves and destroy those that would use their strength to oppress. I will be your champion. I will be ice!”

  Zyryxa felt Her, a familiar presence that often came to her in battle. Soft hands upon her face. A warmth in her chest. A gentle whisper in her mind.

  You are worthy.

  “I am worthy!” she roared, as she became ice itself.

  The change was instant, though she’d been training for it all her life. She felt it in her bones, in her skin, in her soul. Zyryxa’s flesh hardened, growing heavier as if her skin were scale. The everlasting blizzard’s chill became no colder than a summer’s day in Loxzua with a light sea breeze. Amarzallax’s breath was invigorated her. Zyryxa felt Divine Qoryxa embracing her, blessing her with divinity, with ice.

  Amarzallax ceased the storm, the unrelenting blast of white relenting at last. The dragon loomed over her, sapphire eyes assessing.

  You are worthy, the dragon agreed. Beautiful. Powerful. For a human.

  Zyryxa placed a hand on her twin’s neck. “And so are you.” She didn’t feel the need to qualify her praise.

  Amarzallax shuddered at her touch. Feral thoughts that were wild and frenzied grew coherent and calm.

  This… is freedom? The dragon lifted her head, crystalline horns gleaming. Bond me. I don’t want to lose myself again.

  Zyryxa’s throat tightened. She imagined a life of pure instinct, ruled by unbridled emotion, lost in the storm of one’s basest whims. To be alone, out of control of yourself, and without love. Amarzallax deserved better.

  “You are worthy,” Zyryxa whispered. Tears stung her eyes, freezing on her face that no longer felt the sting of cold. “And I love you.”

  Tension melted from Amarzallax. Then we will be one?

  Zyryxa hesitated. To bond a dragon without Vaztyma’s blessing, to bind herself to a dragon not yet strong enough to stand against Praedax… it would be impulsive. Rivux’s Infyriux had been fast and powerful too, but it couldn’t contend with a dragon that had the power earned over the course of centuries. Sighing, Zyryxa knew that the same could be said of her. She herself remembered Vaztyma’s might and knew that hers was the lesser. She had to swallow her pride. For now.

  “Neither of us are ready,” she said. The words tasted bitter. “I must complete the Rite of the Dragon Knight. And I need the Ice Champion’s blessing.”

  The dragon’s despair crashed into her mind. Amarzallax shattered the link. Her tail, a long sleek lance-like whip, lashed out at her. Zyryxa ducked beneath it, drew her axe, watching as the dragon’s jagged, crystalline wings battered the air.

  With a furious roar, Amarzallax took flight.

  She stood in the storm, endured another round of Amarzallax’s breath. “You will be bonded soon,” Zyryxa promised. Whether with me, Pelzyq, or Lexyn.

  Zyryxa watched her disappear into the blizzard. “Until next time,” she murmured, hopeful that there would be a next time and that her sister’s loneliness would end.