Page 137

“The red dragon,” I whispered aloud to her. “The Inferni that stood guard in the court. Did Blake do something to it?”

Her expression was pained. “Viktor said Vorago was gone from the Dragon Court. That only a pile of ash remained.”

Nyxaris’s voice was tight with contempt. Vorago was never a guardian. He was not one of us. He was imprisoned. Vorago was a hundred times worse than I, merciless and savage, even by Inferni standards. Uncontrollable. He reveled in ruin.

“But you just said he sacrificed himself,” I said aloud so Medra could hear me as well. “That the four dragons gave up their freedom to save Sangratha.”

Nyxaris’s laugh was jagged like broken glass. Three dragons offered themselves. Vorago did not. Molindra, Alabryss, and I helped to bind him. The ritual required one dragon from each lineage. How he howled treachery as his scales hardened to stone!

“How can that be?” I whispered. “How can that dragon out there be Vorago? You’re saying Blake is just … gone?”

Medra’s face was pale beneath her freckles. “I think Blake was changing and that he was resisting the change. I think he thought he could kill his own dragon. But somehow, he woke Vorago instead.” She gripped both my hands with hers, watching my face as I waited for Nyxaris to answer.

The fool. The little highblood fool, Nyxaris snarled. He meddled with magic he did not understand. A fool’s bargain. Reaching for freedom, he has unleashed a second tyrant upon you all.

Second? I whispered. Who is the first? I glanced at Medra’s face again. “Medra, did Viktor do that to you?”

She nodded slowly.

Nyxaris, I whispered, terrified, how many dragons are out there?

One for now. But soon there may be two.

“Two dragons.” I felt dizzy.

Listen, little rider. Vorago will not stop with Veilmar. He will scour Sangratha until nothing remains but ash.

I closed my eyes, searching for inner strength. You once cared for the world or you wouldn’t have let them turn you into stone. If you ever cared for anything, care for me. Care now.

His memory brushed with mine. I saw a sky crackled with fire. A rider fell, her body covered in flames. Nyxaris’s roar shook the heavens. Then stone, cold and eternal. Decades of loneliness and sorrow.

I paid for that caring with centuries of silence.

I held my breath.

Very well, little rider. I will do this. For you.

Relief flooded me—but beneath it, something else. Complete and utter panic. I squeezed Medra’s hands back. “He’ll help us.” I thought of something. Will you carry her, too? Anxiety rose in my throat as I realized what I was committing to. I’ve never fought from your back before. I can hardly hold a weapon. I’m no warrior. You know that. But Medra …

The answer came swiftly. No. You are my rider. You alone.

But …

Prepare yourself. Then meet me on the tower parapet. Go swiftly.

All right, I whispered back. I’m coming.

I looked at Medra. “I don’t know how I’ll do this. I want to help. But I’m so scared.”

She gripped my hands. “It’s all right to be scared. I’ve never fought a battle where I wasn’t frightened. You wouldn’t be mortal if you weren’t afraid.”

“I need a plan. I need a weapon. I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” I moaned. I crossed the corridor in a fog, moving back into the infirmary. Inside, Visha and Lysander stood at a table beside Professor Rodriguez and Professor Sankara.

Visha looked up as Medra and I walked in. “You’re going after Blake.”

I nodded slowly.

“She needs a weapon. She’s skilled with a bow,” Medra told Visha. Skilled was an overstatement. But I appreciated the vote of confidence.