11

Meridian and Hinarax are both hanging on me like desperate barnacles. As if they could really hold me back if I wanted to break free. In truth, three things prevent me from shifting to dragon form, killing Rahzien, and saving Serylla from the whip.

First, the knowledge that I might end up dooming us all.

Second, Rahzien's strange comment about his life being linked to hers, and about a magical tether that keeps her from running too far from him.

Third, my brother Varex's voice in my head, begging me to be cautious.

After Serylla is tossed into the carriage and driven away, Hinarax and Meridian relax their hold. I whirl away from the platform and stride through the crowd, shoving people aside if they don't move.

Walking in boots is easier when I'm angry. In fact, it's downright enjoyable. My rage appreciates the satisfying beat of the hard leather soles on the cobblestones. I keep going, not pausing until I reach the street corner. Then I stop, because I can't remember which way to go next.

Hinarax catches up, carrying my package and a few of our other purchases. Meridian is close behind, his face tense as he jams his walking stick against the street with every fierce step. He pauses, leaning on the stick, and wipes the back of his wrist across his sweating forehead.

We're alone on the street corner, for now, but I keep my voice low anyway. "Your people didn't blow up the gallows."

"No. But this king is worse than any of us realized. Perhaps they should have lit the fuse."

"Fuse?" I ask.

"A long string soaked in flammable liquid, leading from the explosives," Meridian explains. "We use a special type of hair developed by Wig-maker Galather. It's artificial hair made from rune-tree fibers, treated with a special dye. The fuse is so thin it's practically invisible, and once lit, the flame is difficult to put out. It moves fast, and there's no trace left behind."

"You must halt any subversive activities for the time being," I tell him. "You heard what Rahzien said, about Serylla being magically tethered to him, and her life being linked to his. Is such a thing possible?"

Meridian shrugs. "My knowledge of magic is limited. I know the basics—that spells siphon energy from the caster, and that each spell requires different natural ingredients and charms, as well as physical material from the intended target. And every spell must be written down. The more durable the material on which it is written, the stronger the spell. Most charms or curses can only be undone by the one who laid them."

"You know more about human magic than we do." Hinarax shudders. "Sorcery disturbs me. I much prefer the dragon style of magic—simple, innate, practical. You're born with one of a handful of possible gifts, and if you use your gift too much you must let it recharge, in a manner that best suits your ability. I have basic yellow fire, like Kyreagan's orange fire. We recharge best in the sun."

"It's a fascinating topic, mate," says Meridian, clasping Hinarax's shoulder. "But let's save further discussion for our return journey. At least we know that the Princess is in the city, most likely at the palace. He could be keeping her in his rooms, her royal suite, the dungeons, or any number of other rooms. The plan hasn't changed—we need access if we're going to get her out, and we need more information about how she's linked to him, and who performed the spell."

"Rahzien told me that the few sorcerers at his disposal are weak, useless for war," I say. "I doubt any of them would be capable of binding his life to Serylla's."

"Rahzien wouldn't necessarily have shared everything with you, even when you were his ally," Meridian points out. "If there's someone in his ranks with that kind of power, he might prefer keeping their identity a secret. Something else to investigate once we make it into the palace."

When we arrive at the hitching posts where we left our animals, Aeris and her companions are already there. She's tossing one of her knives, flipping and catching it with frenzied speed, anger flickering in her every movement.

"You saw that, Meri?" she says. "What the Vohrainian shitbag did to the Princess?"

"We saw," replies Meridian. "What we did not see is the gallows exploding into sawdust and splinters."

"I set the fuse, but I couldn't light it. Not after getting to know him ." She points emphatically at me. "He's so stupidly in love with her. And you saw her up there. She's fucking brave , but that Vohrainian bastard is wearing her down. She'll break eventually. I've been there, Meri, you know I have, and we can't fucking let it happen. God!" She punches one of the hitching posts, and a donkey brays in protest. "Look, I designed that explosion to be tight and neat, to take out only the gallows and nothing else, no other casualties. If the Princess hadn't been up there, I would have done it. But when I saw her… I just couldn't."

"Aeris, love, come here." Meridian pulls her in, and she endures the hug, though she punches his chest lightly.

"I don't blame you," he says. "Not sure I could have done it myself. We'll save the gallows for another day and head home. Our dragon friends are running on borrowed time, and we need to be back at the cave before they shift again."

I don't speak to anyone on the ride back. I left Serylla with that cruel wretch, and even though I had no choice, I can't forgive myself.

By the time we reach the caves again, Hinarax and I have a little less than an hour before we revert to our dragon forms, which infuriates me. I never thought I'd be so desperate to stay human for as long as possible.

The fury, impatience, and self-loathing I feel cannot be contained, and the instant we're back in the main cavern, I seize Meridian's shoulder and pull him around to face me. I let my claws and horns emerge, glaring at him from my full height.

"Enough waiting," I tell him. "Finish the forged diplomatic papers tonight. Tomorrow we enter the city. I will play the role of the Southern prince, gain the King's confidence, and make him tell me more about his hold on the Princess. No more training, no more practice. You and Hinarax are both quick with your tongues—the two of you can make up excuses for any lapses in my behavior."

"We can tell them you're a little mad," says Hinarax.

I hook an eyebrow at him. "Why would the Southern King send a mad prince to negotiate with Rahzien?"

But Meridian is nodding, tapping his lips. "Actually, I can work with that. We can claim you had an accident aboard your ship and hit your head—you're suffering from memory lapses, momentary fits of dizziness. Sometimes you may need to go take a long rest. Ha! It's perfect!" He claps his hands. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

"So you agree, then?" asks Hinarax. "We can enter the city tomorrow?"

"We don't need his permission," I growl.

"But you do need the forged papers, and your costumes, and your fake retinue." Meridian smirks at me. "And yes, I agree that it's time to move. I despise the monarchy, but I recognize courage and spirit when I see it, and that Princess of yours has both. She's playing his tune right now, but I'll wager she's watching for a way to escape. In fact she might have already slipped free of him if it weren't for this magical tether between them."

"If this tether is real, it will be much harder to get her away from him." I fall heavily onto a wooden stool and prop my forearms on the table.

"See, now, that movement and posture were very human," Meridian praises me. "And to reward you both for your excellent work blending in today, I think we should introduce you to another human custom—a tonic for wounded hearts, sorrowful memories, and restless souls. Odrash, Kehanal, bring out the ale!"

Hinarax perches his butt on the table near me, propping one leg on another stool. His pose is easy, unrestrained. He's doing better at appearing natural in this form—he's more talented at it than I am.

"Ale!" he exclaims enthusiastically. "Did you hear, Ky? They're bringing out the ale! I can't wait to try it."

When I don't reply, he lowers his voice. "I want you to know, I will put on my best performance tomorrow. I'll do everything I can to help you save your life-mate."

"She's not my… that is, she…" I hesitate, then dig into the sore place in my heart. "She was going to leave me. If Fortunix hadn 't stolen her, I would have taken her to the mainland myself and set her free."

"Oh." Hinarax puckers his full lips for a moment. "So you don't think she loves you."

"I'm not sure." I look down at my hands, their light brown color contrasting against the dark wood of the table. Sometimes, when my emotions are close to the surface, flecks of fire glimmer on my skin, or perhaps just beneath it. I lift my hand and flex the black claws jutting from my fingertips.

"Even if she hated me, I would save her," I say quietly. "Even if she had sworn to crack my ribs open and claw out my heart upon our next meeting, still I would traverse oceans and mountain ranges for her, fly through a forest of voratrice tongues, brave the Mordvorren itself if I could spare her from pain."

"Good god, you're charmingly pathetic." Meridian laughs and slams down a foaming tankard in front of me. Aeris sets another tankard down near Hinarax. "Drink up, boys. Drown your sorrows."

I stare morosely at the ale. "Shouldn't we practice more? I'm still shaky on the names of the other six Zairon princes—"

"No." Meridian props his stick against the edge of the table and hoists himself up to sit beside Hinarax. "Enough practice. Trust me—this is what you need. You, too, handsome. Bottoms up." He gives Hinarax a nudge and a wink.

"Bottoms up, indeed," murmurs Hinarax, and he fixes the other man with a bold, heated stare.

Meridian's cheekbones turn faintly pink, and he laughs again, but it's a breathless sound, one which he drowns by snatching another mug of ale from a fellow rebel's hand and taking three noisy gulps.

"Go on, Prince," urges Aeris, her dark eyes fixed on me. Hinarax is already draining his tankard, while the rebels cheer him on .

If ale can temporarily blur the image of Serylla's agonized face, I'll swallow a barrelful. If it can help me cope with the fact that I had to fucking leave her there , with Rahzien… by the Bones, I'll drink an ocean of liquor.

"It might sting at first," warns Aeris as I raise my tankard.

At the first gulp, heat sears my tongue and throat, burning all the way down to my belly. It's not exactly painful, but it's startling.

I take another swallow. Warmth spreads through my gut, not unlike the sensation of my liquid fire when I'm in dragon form.

"Drink is the best way to forget the things you can't change, until you get the chance to change them," says Meridian, trailing his fingertips along Hinarax's long locs. Hinarax licks the ale from his lips and faces the rogue, eye to eye. Energy pulses between them—the same energy I sensed between Thelise and Ashvelon. Hunger, need, and a wicked, reckless glee. The passionate quiver before the kiss.

I turn away and down the contents of my tankard. I'll be a dragon again within the hour, and until then I'd rather not think about love, or loss, or Serylla's pain, or my own.

"More," I demand, shoving the empty tankard at Aeris.

She frowns uncertainly. "Are you sure? The full effect won't hit you for a minute, so maybe you should—"

"Meridian says this drink can distract me."

"Yes…"

"More. Please, Aeris."

"Oh, very well." She pours me another drink. "Go slowly this time… and you've already swallowed it down. Well, then. I guess we'll see how fast a dragon shifter can get drunk."

When I hold the tankard toward her again, everything slants, and I waver.

"Really fast, then." Aeris chuckles, gripping my shoulder to keep me steady on my stool .

Time melts, turns liquid and slow. Warmth spreads through my chest and my limbs, and a pleasant haze floats through my brain. I still miss Serylla, but the pain of her absence is muted. I'm concerned about my clan, my eggs, everyone back on Ouroskelle—but the worry is softer. I'm not myself, and not being myself is a wondrous relief.

One of the rebels starts playing a fiddle, another a pipe. I've learned a few facts about instruments since we arrived here, because Meridian is addicted to music, and cannot present a lesson or invent a plan without a song playing in the background. He's dancing without his walking stick, upheld in the strong brown arms of Hinarax, and they're laughing, both of them, joking, as if nothing is wrong with the world as long as they are touching each other. I know that feeling. I miss that feeling.

When I turn back to Aeris, she's watching Hinarax and Meridian too, smiling a little.

"More ale," I say.

"I think you've had enough. When you can't stand properly, that's a sign to quit."

"I can stand." I haul myself to my feet.

"Yes, but can you dance?" She hops up, too, extending hands clad in ragged black gloves.

"I've never danced as a human. I don't know how."

"I'll teach you."

"On Ouroskelle, we do not dance except during mating season, for our intended partners," I say cautiously, thickly. "I'm not sure if I should dance with another female. I love the Princess. Her name is carved on my bones."

Aeris quirks a brow. "Intense. But among humans, a dance can just be a merry bit of exercise among friends. I'll teach you the basics, and then, when you get your princess back, you can dance with her."

She leads me away from the table, toward the flat, open space in the center of the cave where a dozen or so rebels are dancing. Hinarax and Meridian remain near the fringe of the group, caught up in each other, but Aeris and I join a merry circle. I feel like a fool, clumping along in my boots, but everyone else is stamping, clapping, and cheering so heartily that I forget my awkwardness and let the ale loosen my limbs. It's a dizzy whirl, a mad heat, and the harder I dance, the more distant my grief becomes. But it's there, crouched like a fenwolf in the shadows, ready to leap at my throat the moment I stop moving.

The song changes, from a jolly jig to a tune I know… one that paralyzes me, freezes me cold where I stand. The people around me begin to shout the words of the song, each phrase punctuated with laughter.

" I once had a wife who took my life…"

I'm struck sober in an instant, as if a giant clawed hand slid around my heart and squeezed until blood burst from the pierced muscle.

"Kyreagan?" Aeris's voice is distant, dulled.

At a measured pace, with perfectly even steps, I walk through the dancers to the mouth of the cave. Behind the waterfall I strip my body naked, and then I descend the narrow path until I come to a huge rock overlooking the pool. Sunlight glows on that rock, turning it warm and golden.

Seated there, with the rush of the waterfall in my head and the heat of the ale in my body, I break under the agony and uncertainty of it all. Whether I can save Serylla without beginning another war, whether I can rescue her before the King forces himself on her.

And if I can save her, what then? Would I really ask her to live in a cave on Ouroskelle? Or would I offer to change my own way of life, my culture, my existence, for the reward of having her by my side?

Tears feel different in human form—liquid on skin, not scales. The sounds I make are huge, harsh, and painful—great spasms of my lungs and chest. My nose tingles and clogs until I can't breathe through it, and still the tears flow.

I want my family. Sometimes Hinarax reminds me of Varex, but he isn't my brother, the one of our sibling trio who always knows what to say. If my family were here, Varex would sympathize and support me, while Vylar would poke my wing with hers and tell me to toughen up. Grimmaw would give me some obscure nugget of Dragonish wisdom in poetry form. My father would insist that I think of the clan first, not my own desires or needs.

And Mordessa—she would weep with me, then promise to help me find Serylla. Her soul was that beautiful—rich in kindness. I hate that I pulled her into my father's war, that her final acts involved the slaughter of humans. She deserved better.

My skin vibrates, the precursor to transformation. Hinarax comes running out from behind the waterfall, stripping hastily and yelling, "Fuck!"

The moment I turn into a dragon, the haze of the alcohol dissipates completely. Perched on the rock, I stretch my wings, lash my tail, and look over at Hinarax.

He shakes his scaled body and chuffs with frustration. "Fuck this. Meridian was about to kiss me."

"My condolences."

He lifts his head and neck, arches his wings. "You probably don't want to hear about it."

"I'm pleased you two are finding joy in each other. But your paths don't exactly align."

"Neither do yours and Serylla's."

I swivel my head toward him, baring my teeth, and he cringes back. "Apologies, my Prince."

"We should sleep," I tell him. "We can rest in the same cavern we used last time, as long as it's still empty. We'll have to be careful walking back through the main cave. Don't swing your tail this time. "

"I won't."

"I'll ask Meridian when he wants to head for the city. We may need to switch forms briefly tomorrow to make sure we have enough human hours at the right time."

Hinarax hesitates, threads of smoke sifting from his nostrils. "What if we make a mistake, and betray ourselves to Rahzien? What if we're discovered?"

"Then you'll leave me, and you'll fly back to Ouroskelle and tell Varex what happened. If I die, tell him he is under no obligation to avenge me. I'll let him decide what's best for the clan."

"Leave you?" Hinarax snorts. "No chance of that. I'll fight for you and the Princess, and if our enemies are too strong, we'll perish together. We may not be good fighters in human form, but as dragons we can take down a lot of them before they manage to kill us."

"I swore I wouldn't harm any more of Elekstan's people," I reply. "Vohrainians are fair game, but we must be careful not to shed innocent blood. And that includes destroying buildings and crushing the people within them."

"That will complicate my fighting style," Hinarax admits. "I'll try, but no promises. The vow was yours, not mine."

"Fair enough."

As I speak, several birds fly up out of a tree not far away. I peer at them, hunting for any telltale glint of scarlet in their eyes, but I see none.

Hinarax tosses his head and chuffs out a few tongues of yellow flame. "Do you think Fortunix told Rahzien that we're able to transform into humans?"

"I doubt it. Fortunix is a clever old dragon, and greedier than any of us suspected, judging by the private hoard I found in his secret cave. I'm sure he was paid when he turned over Serylla. I think he'll hold the information about our shifter abilities and wait to see if he can benefit from it somehow. His greed, coupled with his shame over becoming the thing he hates, should keep him quiet."

"And like Thelise said—even if Rahzien knows, he has never seen our faces," Hinarax adds. "So he won't recognize us. There will be no reason for him to suspect we are anything but a moody Southern prince and his retinue."

I huff superheated air at him. "Moody?"

"If the boot fits." Hinarax chuckles.

"I can be charming."

"Be yourself. Meridian and I will be charming on your behalf." Hinarax readies his wings for the flight through the waterfall. "Though you could try being more optimistic. Kyteia says the best way to ensure the outcome you want is to envision it, over and over. Picture yourself succeeding, and you will."

I stare down at the pool below, at its rippling waters thrown into shadow by the setting sun, and for a moment I let myself picture it—the ideal outcome of all this, the ending I crave.

I imagine leading Serylla out of the palace, along the shadowed streets of the city, and through the gate. We'll run into the woods together, and once we're clear of the guards and the watchtowers, I'll switch to dragon form and we'll soar east, leaving Elekstan behind forever. But before we return to Ouroskelle and our eggs, I'll take her to some tiny coastal village, to a tavern or an inn. We'll sit together at a table, like two normal humans, and I'll order the one thing she has asked for, over and over, since the day I ruined her life.

A cup of hot tea.