27

I'm getting weaker. My body craves the shift to my birth form, but still I'm prevented. An aching shudder passes through me now and then, accompanied by painful contractions of my back muscles, where my wings would be.

I'm suffering through another spasm when three helmeted Vohrainians come to the door of my cell. One of them unlocks it, then comes in to detach the chains from my body and wrists. Briefly I consider trying to fight, but I can't summon the strength.

They drag me along the corridor, through a side door, into a small courtyard. A cart with barred windows sits there, and I'm shoved inside onto the straw-covered floor. I force myself partly upright, leaning back against the wall. There's a wooden bench across one end of the cart, but I don't bother pulling myself onto it.

"I'll ride with him and make sure he doesn't try anything," says one of the Vohrainians.

"Look at him," scoffs another. "He's in no shape to flee. "

"Still, better to be careful," replies the first. "He's the King's prize captive."

"As you wish."

The first soldier climbs into the cart with me, and the door is shut. Within seconds, we're rattling across cobblestones.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"The Outer Market." The soldier's voice has changed, and I recognize its merry, sardonic lilt. Hope threads through my soul.

"Meridian," I whisper.

He takes off his helmet and tosses back his shock of dark red hair. His eye gleams bright blue, triumphant. "I have something for you. A gift from Serylla." He holds up a glass bottle of blue liquid.

My heart sinks. "They caught her."

"Yes, but she obtained this first."

"What is it?"

"If I had to guess, she forced the healer—excuse me, the poisoner —to concoct it. It may be an antidote that allows you to shift, or it may cause instant death. It's your choice whether or not you want to risk it."

"What have I got to lose?"

"Exactly my thoughts. You could take it now, and break out of this cart, but I suspect it would be best to wait. I believe the King wants to bring you and Serylla together at the market, and chastise you publicly before the people. You should take this right before you leave the cart… or perhaps wait until you have eyes on Serylla. If you hold the vial just right, no one will see that you have it. Just like the street magicians do. Watch."

He teaches me a few ways to conceal the small bottle in my hand, and during the ride to the market, I practice them over and over.

"If they're getting ready to chain your arms, you'll have to drink it quickly," Meridian says. "Once the change happens, I'll help you protect Serylla. "

I tip my head back against the wall of the cart and groan. "I still can't take her far from Rahzien. And the Vohrainians' guns are still a threat."

Meridian grins. "I wouldn't worry too much about the guns. Not today."

"What does that mean?" I ask. "What did your people do?"

But he sets a finger against his scarred lips, then replaces his helmet. The cart is slowing, rattling to a halt. We've arrived at the market square.

I palm the bottle like he showed me. Despite the spasming muscles in my back, the weakness of my limbs, and the brutal handling of the soldiers who drag me from the cart, I manage to maintain my hold on it. As I mount the steps to the gallows platform, Meridian stays on my left side.

Serylla is already there, dressed in white, with a silver crown on her brow. She's standing between two posts, her arms stretched upward in a V, pulled taut by chains. Defiance and terror shine in her eyes, and she has never looked more glorious.

It's a gray morning, clouds thickening overhead with the promise of an afternoon storm. The crowd filling the square is silent and somber, corralled by the forces of their conquerors, unwilling witnesses to whatever Rahzien has planned. Wind tosses the pale skirts of Serylla's dress, winnows through her hair, swirls in reckless eddies between her and me. It brings me her fragrance—and not only hers.

I lift my face to the wind, inhaling through my nose, trying to distill the separate scents. Grease from the food stalls, herbs from the market, the odor of warm bodies from the humans in the square, smoke from chimneys, the acrid stench of piss from the gutters, earth and leaves from the windowboxes of the townhouses… and beyond all of that, distant yet unmistakable, dozens of familiar scents, wild as the sky, keen as the wind .

The varied scents of the male dragons I've known my whole life. My brothers. My clan. They're here, circling above the thick clouds, waiting.

They aren't dead. The bird was lying. But Rahzien's birds do not lie, which means someone gave the bird a false message. Someone who used to loiter around the Vohrainian troops during the war, making friends with them, learning secrets from careless mouths.

Someone I underestimated.

"Well done, Hinarax," I whisper.

Rahzien stands beside Serylla, a white cloak billowing around him, a gold circlet on his head. "Put the dragon in the stocks," he orders.

Meridian moves in between me and Rahzien, grabbing my shoulder. "Come on, dragon scum," he snarls. "Time to move."

I take the hint, and the moment of cover he provides. I pretend to stumble, falling to one knee, my long hair shielding my actions as I tug out the tiny stopper with my teeth and swallow the contents of the bottle.

"Get him up," Rahzien orders, his thumb stroking the shining blade of a long knife. "In the stocks, now."

Another convulsion is beginning, drawing together the muscles of my back—only this time it's accompanied by the familiar buzzing awareness, the vibration that's the precursor to every shift.

"Move back," I mutter to Meridian.

The rogue backs away, each halting step taking him closer to Serylla. If Rahzien weren't staring at me, Meridian's limp might raise his suspicions, but he's fully occupied with scowling in my direction, as if he could flay the skin off my face with his eyes alone.

Glancing from him to Serylla, I smile.

Wicked delight leaps into her eyes, and she flashes me an answering grin so beautiful that I laugh aloud, a mad, wild sound that makes Rahzien's eyes widen. The laughter transforms into a mighty roar as my body expands, unfurls, explodes into the form my ancestors gave me.

My wings whip outward, knocking a few Vohrainian soldiers off the platform. I clamp one screaming soldier between my jaws and shake him back and forth before flinging him across the square. His body smacks into a building and slides into a crumpled heap.

Screams rise from the crowd, and above it all I hear Rahzien bellowing, "Shoot him! Shoot him!"

A spattering of small explosions break out across the rooftops and throughout the square—strange sounds, not the usual crisp bang of a bullet firing. Two bullets rip through my wings, but it's nowhere near as many as I expected.

And then I see a Vohrainian fall from a rooftop, his body streaming flames. As more of the soldiers fire, their guns explode in their hands, blowing limbs to pieces, setting bodies ablaze. One after another they ignite, until the troops who were slow to fire realize what's happening and drop their weapons.

Meridian has picked the lock on one of Serylla's chains, and the moment her hand is free, he claps the shackle onto Rahzien's wrist and clicks it shut.

Rahzien slashes at him with the knife, but Meridian is too quick. He dodges back and makes quick work of Serylla's second chain. "Go to Ky!" Meridian yells, and Serylla runs to me, leaping from my foreleg to my back. Meridian begins casting aside pieces of his Vohrainian armor, revealing the light tunic he wears beneath.

I roar again, the cry I used during the war to summon my clan.

They descend from the clouds like a whirling storm, wings spread and jaws wide. Dozens of dragons, whole and alive. My family .

At the head of the swarm is a dragon with gleaming bronze scales. I'd expected my brother to lead them, but Hinarax is a welcome sight all the same.

"Do not kill Rahzien, or the people of Elekstan!" I call to the dragons. "Only the soldiers of Vohrain!"

Hinarax lands on the platform beside me and lowers his neck so Meridian can climb astride it. When he lifts his head again, Meridian raises a fist and cries, in a voice that pierces the tumult, "So may we rise!"

From the crowd, dozens of voices reply, "So may we all!" And weapons appear, pulled from beneath cloaks or drawn from boots.

The mood shifts, from pure panic to fresh purpose, as the people of Elekstan realize this is not a slaughter, but a revolution. A rebellion against the conquerors. And this time, the dragons are on their side.

My role in this is protective—to defend both Serylla and the wretch Rahzien. By protecting him, I keep her alive. So I let Hinarax and Meridian lead the fight, while I use my wings, my tail, and my blasts of fire to shield Serylla and the King from any incoming attacks.

Between the damage done by the sabotaged guns, and the uprising of the rebels in the crowd, the market square is quickly cleared of Vohrainian soldiers, and the dragons move into the city to eradicate more of them. As they fly over the gate, I hear more shots, more explosions. More screams as the weapons of the Vohrainian soldiers burst into fiery shrapnel in their hands and become the instruments of their demise.

Odrash and Kehanal run up onto the stage to unchain Rahzien from the post. They shackle his wrists and ankles, and add an iron collar around his neck for good measure.

"The guns," I ask Kehanal. "What's wrong with them?"

"Our people infiltrated the manufacturing facility for the new ammunition," he explains. "They introduced imperceptible veins of explosives into most of the new batches of bullets. And Meridian bribed the facility's inspector with the treasure you gave him, so that he'd falsify the test reports and our sabotage would go unnoticed until the right moment. I imagine that inspector is far from here by now, off to the Southern Kingdoms to enjoy his new riches."

"You think yourselves so clever," Rahzien bites out. "I have soldiers stationed all over this kingdom. Your little rebellion has no chance of succeeding."

"But we have you," growls Odrash. "And within a few hours, most of the high-ranking officials in your army will be dead or captured. Without their king and their leaders, your soldiers will surrender. And if they don't—well, we have dragons ."

I lower my head so I can look Rahzien in the face, and I'm pleased to find a glimmer of fear in his eyes. "Wasn't it you, Rahzien, who gave the order for the new ammunition to be distributed to all troops as quickly as possible? Even if not every outpost received it, the odds have been tipped in our favor. It may be a long fight, but the outcome is certain. You have already lost."

"And yet I've won." Rahzien's teeth glint through his red beard, a savage smile. "Because you can't kill me."

I bring my muzzle close to his face and bare both rows of my sharp teeth. "Not yet ."