Ava and Ruan rode in silence down into the thick of the Faltari forest. The ride was jolting at first, weaving steeply down to a narrow canyon.

  The jarring ride was a constant source of discomfort. Riding had always been painful, let alone after the abuse she’d put her body through the past couple of days. But she did not complain. Ava would not give the gods, nor the Atticans who had caused her injuries, the satisfaction of wearing down her will. But gods, she would have killed for one of the alchemical pain-tonics back at the academy.

  The ride grew smoother as the land leveled off.

  Ava could sense Ruan’s irritation growing as the silence stretched on. It was difficult to tell time against the overcast skies, but she thought it must be midday based on her hunger. She longed to feel the sun’s warmth on her back. The morning had been crisp, and the middle of the day was not much better.

  “Autumn is short here,” Riese had told her during the morning ascent. “We joke how you blink and it’s the dead of winter.”

  “How do you endure in such a place?” she’d asked.

  “Mead,” Riese had joked. “And dreamsmoke.”

  Ava smiled. She hoped the Faltari survived. She liked them an awful lot more than the Atticans she’d grown up around.

  Finally, they reached a ridgeline that looked down over the treetops. The land swept down the fjord for many miles. Ava could see the glimmering of the sea. Sun must be shining somewhere down there.

  She could not make out the actual harbor or the village of Yerida from here. A narrow valley stretched wide and green to the south, and to the east, mountains plunged into the clouds.

  The world was utterly still. No signs of marching armies. No evidence of humanity whatsoever. Perfectly serene, beyond even her own island during the years of her childhood. Thoughts of her mother seeped in. Hazy memories of walks in the meadows outside their estate. Playing with her in the gardens as a small child. It was not until much later that she learned how rare that was for a noble’s daughter. Most of her classmates had been raised by nursemaids.

  The thought sent sorrow through her spirit. But they were warm memories.

  “Are we close?” asked Ruan.

  “We’re getting there.”

  “Why did we stop?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  Ruan grimaced.

  Ava did not pry, but she sensed something in Ruan’s spirit. An uncertainty.

  “The view reminded me of my home. My girlhood. Before every part of my life became about advancing in the academy. Before every move became a…”

  “Calculation?” Ruan offered.

  “Something like that. It was not an easy time. But... you didn’t want to talk, as I recall.”

  Ruan smirked. “Never thought I’d see the day when that stopped Ava Rykus from carrying on. I may not be the most talkative person in the world, but… I don’t actually love silence.”

  “You like to listen. To learn about people. When it’s silent, you’re left only with a troubled mind.”

  “Now, more than ever.”

  Ava did not know what to say to that. It was a rare and uncomfortable feeling. To be unsure of the right words, the right moves. Perhaps taking Ruan was a grave mistake.

  Ruan shrugged. “Well, go on, if you feel like talking, then. The view brought memories…”

  “After the Valucian Uprising was quashed. When I was injured, and my mother was gone. The healers worried, I would not recover. I spent my girlhood in rehabilitation. Building up movements that had once been so gods-damned ordinary, I never knew you could take them for granted. It was exhausting. My father used to carry me on his back up the hills behind our castle. On the other side, you couldn’t see the villages or shipyards in disrepair. All the destruction. It was just… nature. That’s what the view reminded me of.”

  And now, that place is gone, she thought.

  “I… I’m sure it must be beautiful.” Ruan’s face tensed.

  Ava longed to peer inside. To know what he was truly thinking. All she could do was press on with this path.

  “I’m sorry, Ruan, I…”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Don’t pity me to make yourself feel better. You made your choice.”

  “You’re right. My choice was made long before I met you.”

  “Your people rebelled.”

  “I was fucking four, Ruan.”

  Silence stretched on again. Birds chirped. Wind rushed through the branches. Clouds began to part, and a beam of light shot over the valley below.

  “Anyway, I survived. Which is more than can be said of my mother. Do you want to know how it happened?”

  “Ava, you’ve never wanted to discuss her, so why would—”

  “It was because of me.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t Attica that made my mother into that empty shell of person. It was me.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, softer now.

  “The healers were right. I shouldn’t have recovered from my injuries. But my mother wouldn’t have it. We journeyed to the Free City.”

  “You didn’t…”

  “My mother sought the help of a Beirusian witch. That sort of magic, it comes at a cost. And my mother paid it.”

  “Ava, I…” Ruan’s voice drifted with the wind.

  “Perhaps if we’d sought the help of a Faltari shaman, the price would not have been so high.”

  “Like my price,” said Ruan. “That’s what you think this is? Not the shoddy work of some crazed shaman at the edge of the world.”

  Ava bit back tears. “That shaman was a good man, Ruan, and you’re lucky to be alive. That’s what I think. I thank the gods you’re alive, Ruan. You’ve no idea what I wouldn’t give to talk to my mother like this.”

  Ruan was silent. Emotion swelling inside him.

  “Sometimes I wish she’d failed,” Ava said. “I would gladly have remained a cripple if it meant my mother were still here. All our schoolmates thought me a damn cripple anyway.”

  Ruan chuckled. “Iriana said that behind your back the whole trip. Guess, you showed her, eh?” His voice turned dark. He was probing.

  “Iriana Thenius was seething inside when Campos chose me to bond with one of those eggs,” Ava said. “When he chose the Faltari girl, it was even worse. If she’d journeyed back with us as Campos intended, Iriana would have thrown her overboard, first chance she had… No, I don’t regret what happened to her. But it doesn’t mean I enjoyed watching her die. Even if she did represent everything that’s wrong with Attica.”

  Ruan nodded pensively. “And if it had been me Campos had chosen, and not her? If I’d have been there…”

  A tear streaked down Ava’s cheek. “I would not change what I’ve done. But if there had been a way to keep you safe, I would have. I tried…”

  Ruan huffed. “You gonna tell me you’re the reason he chose Iriana instead of me?”

  “No,” Ava said. “I tried to convince Campos not to bring you in the first place. But his plans for your house were stronger than my manipulations.”

  “My mother is Lady Consul now,” Ruan said.

  “Yes,” said Ava. “She is.”

  “Campos never intended for me to bond. It was just a reason to bring my mother. To groom her to become his replacement.”

  “I don’t claim to know the inner workings of imperial politics. But I know the Consuls were never allowed dragons. If Campos intended your mother to be Consul, you would never have bonded another dragon.”

  Ava turned quiet. There was more beyond that. For this opportunity never would have been presented to Campos, had Ruan’s father not fallen during the Sigan campaign, but she feared that was a bridge too far. She could only hope that—

  Her skin pricked. Her spirit swelled as a ferocious rage swept over her senses.

  Wind rushed through the trees directly overhead, sending branches flying.

  The stag jolted beneath her, and Ava’s stomach churned as she flew airborne.

  Ava landed on her back in an enormous thorn bush, barbs piercing her skin in a hundred places at once.

  She screamed, rolled. More pain. Blood dripping down her brow, her arms, between her fingers.

  Hooves thundered as her stag raced off and disappeared into the woods.

  Somehow, Ruan remained mounted. His stag bucked beneath him, but Ruan gripped the reins with furious determination.

  Ava groaned. She tried to move, but the thorns only gripped her tighter.

  “Ah!” she whimpered.

  “You always did love to talk too much,” said Ruan spitefully. “But you forgot something important for all your schemes. Maybe I’ll never be Dragonmount, but my father taught me the sense of a dragon, even without a full bond. I can sense when they’re close.” He pointed at his temple.

  The forest erupted with torrents of wind and a roar that made the air itself quake.

  Dark masses shot over the treetops. With horror, Ava glimpsed the sharp lines of a gargantuan wing.

  “Ruan!” Ava said. “No, please.”

  Ruan kicked his stag forward, and the beast trotted down the path, hooves thudding and fading quickly.

  With a shriek of pain, Ava wrenched herself from the tangle of thorns, shredding her cloak and much of her torso in the process. She rolled onto the hard ground, eyes blurring with agonizing tears. She latched onto a sapling, and pulled herself to her feet.

  Ruan stopped at the clearing a hundred yards ahead. Sunlight beamed down through a crack in the clouds, and Ruan waved his arms at the sky, shouting.

  Ava staggered back up the path. Wind rushed overhead, and an enormous shadow passed over her.

  But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not yet.

  Heart racing, Ava scrambled up the hillside deeper into the forest, leaving the path to submerge herself in the thick foliage. She crossed down into a small ravine. Her foot lost purchase, and she pitched backward, sliding, rolling. She landed hard on her stomach. The woods darkened.

  Wings hovered above the trees, flapping hard to hold the beast in place. Hot sulfuric fumes engulfed the forest, making her gag.

  But such a large beast could not possibly land in this dense foliage.

  Ava pulled herself up once more, snatching a limb of snowpine, steadying herself enough to scramble out of the loose scree and pine needles that had led to her fall.

  Once she got out of the ravine, the going got easier again, the slope tapering off as she neared the top of a ridge.

  Ava pushed past the pain, hurrying faster.

  The top of the ridge was nearly in reach.

  Snap!

  Her stick splintered, caught between boulders, and she slipped again. Pain lanced up her leg as she dragged herself back to her feet, and she fell again.

  “Shit!”

  Wings flapped furiously. A roar send shivers shooting through her body.

  Ava did not move.

  She had known the minute she saw the beasts that it was fruitless to try to escape. She could only hope she’d bought enough time for the others.

  Somewhere to her left she heard the thud of boots, the crunch of large footsteps on the forest floor. The ring of a drawn blade.

  Ava turned.

  A tall man strode down the slope.

  The Dragonmount’s jet-black hair hung loose, flaring out from his helm. He wore black leathern armor with the crimson dragon emblazoned on his chest.

  Slowly, he removed his helm, and Ava gasped, recognizing the man’s face instantly.

  Athanasius set down his helm and his thin lips curled into a smile.

  “There you are, Ms. Rykus,” he said calmly. “Now, where are the others?”